The trip
01.31.07 (7:30 pm) [edit]
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Always the same
01.30.07 (7:05 pm) [edit]
Ever the same
I saw him outside the locked down unit just as he ran out the door
Following me as I left, had no idea where he was hiding,
But he was fast and agile……he can be that way when he wants to be.
I tuned around and said, “William how are you?”
He looked at me, smiled, and said “Markey, I want to go home”,
So we talked and I tried to get him back inside, to safety.
For him though it was something different; keeping him from seeing his mother.
“Please let me go home, what is going on, why are you locking up me this way?”
I never get used to this, the pain and confusion in his eyes, the longing for his mother,
It never lets up, over and over again, though he has no memory, but I do, we do.
It is branded in my consciousness never to be forgotten each incident,
Collected like a stamp hobbyist, added to the chain of confrontations
Doomed to be lived over and over again, just like Sisyphus, it seems at times.
I try to walk him back into the room; he gets loud and begins to scream at me.
“PLEASE, why are you doing this!” throwing off my arm that was flung over his shoulder.
The nurse comes out, and tries to talk to him, but he gets worse,
So I give her the signal that I always dread, something that never gets easy,
Routine, in how it is lived out, done, accomplished; no matter the outcome preordained.
Ever the same the pain felt, helpless to stop it, the confusion, the feelings of betrayal,
Deeply etched in their faces, on his face as we have to force him back inside
To an environment safe in our minds, but for him a prison in which he is unjustly held.
All the while in my heart a mantra bouncing like a tennis ball bouncing of the walls of an
empty room:
Shit, shit, shit;
Walking away, with him pounding the door calling my name to please help him,
I just go, have other things to do, taking another to the doctor,
Each time my heart changed a little, made more tender, more vulnerable,
Something I want, for at times my heart can be like stone, cold and lifeless.
I no longer ask the why of things, I just accept it, knowing that I can try to do something,
In life there is pain, suffering, each person has the hands of Christ,
Reaching out, doing little perhaps, but doing something, hopefully lessening the pain.
We can try, the team, to help him a little, sometimes with meds, at others with love;
Best of all with chocolate and ice cream, something he loves now more than anything,
A constant in his life, something he can count on, will never be let down like I seem to do.
It is a gift we have to offer one another, to take care when self care is not possible,
To protect even when misunderstood,
To seek to make the last mile as pleasant as possible, with dignity as far as is possible,
So bitterness is not part of the journey, just hopefully a growth in love and caring,
And a thankfulness for the gift that is given to us in caring for others.
Quiet day out
01.29.07 (6:28 pm) [edit]
I came into work this afternoon and the first person I saw was William, who had that look. It was the look that communicated to me, that perhaps he needed to get out and about for a short while. Even though his short term memory is shot, I think the pressure of being cooped up has a physical component that needs to be addressed. Since it was after lunch; too late to get him a hamburger, I thought it would be a good idea to take him for a ride and get him some ice cream; something he loves just as much as chocolate. So I got him into a nice warm coat and off we went.
We drove around town for a bit, and he loved it, taking in the scenes and letting me know how much he likes driving around like this, just enjoying the scenery. I always treasure my time with the people I take care of and when I was with William I started to remember many of the trips I made with others who are now gone. Damian, who died last year, was one of those that I liked taking out, either for lunch or ice cream, or at times both, usually it was both. He loved to laugh and joke, and sometimes he would act “crazy” just to see me get a little worried. When he got the affect he wanted, he would then laugh and say “gotcha”. After a while when I learned of this game, I always pretended so that he would be able to get a charge out of fooling me.
I took William to the Dairy Queen, a good place for ice cream, and since it was after the lunch hour it would be quiet. I have to be careful not to take him somewhere that is noisy, since it will only make him hyper, later, after we get home, which would nullify the whole reason for taking him out in the first place.
I got him a double vanilla sunday, covered with chocolate syrup and nuts and topped it off with whipped cream. You would have thought it was Christmas the way he went on about it. We sat down and talked and ate. He is always asking me about Harrison, his home town, and how are things there, so I tell him, well I make things up because in five minutes he will ask me again the same question. I can’t keep track of all the new things that are going there, even if I have never set foot in the town.
It was just a peaceful uneventful afternoon, a quiet day out, and it seemed to help him, for he was ready to go home when the time came. Sometimes uneventful is very good…… restful, a place to just relax and be. When we got back into the car he gave me a great compliment, he said: “I always feel so comfortable with you”, I thanked him and told him the same thing, which was true. I do feel comfortable with him and treasure the times we have together. Now he is in his room getting his bed ready for sleep, something he can do for an hour or more, but it is a ritual that comforts him, me also for some strange reason. One of the things I love is to go into my charges rooms when on duty and make sure they are sleeping peacefully, and soon William will be doing just that.
To be
01.25.07 (8:03 am) [edit]
To be
Beauty flows like a healing balm in a world often filled with pain.
Music with its gentle melodies soothing the soul into contemplation,
Or a more rapid crescendo, leading to the simple joy of movement
Causing the body to come alive with the ecstatic joy of existence,
Flying effortless with the rhythms created for that pleasure.
The ritual of eating with friends,
Sipping wine and laughing over past events,
Remembered with both joy and a stabbing sorrow,
Adding to the depth of the moment so soon over,
Yet more precious because of it fleeting existence.
Old jokes told and yes still laughed at,
The look of joy and love in the eyes of those sharing the table,
Give color to life intoxicating in its intensity.
The beauty of the human form in all its variety,Laughter, like jewelry, adds to the beauty of those known and loved,
Intelligence in its many aspects manifested differently
In barbs and jokes told for the sake of the simple joy in the telling,
The ability to be profound and silly and rapid succession,
Healing the pain for a moment, giving strength for the wondrous journey.
Literature allowing the mind to travel, in the miracle of writing exposed,
A whole universe created between the covers, by a mind God like in its creativity,
Adding more joy and depth to life, in being exposed to the inner world of another.
Philosophy teaching the mind to think, becoming sharper in its ability to wonder,
Maturing the mind to become more childlike in its appreciation of life and its gifts,
Freely given to those who have the eyes and heart to see.
Water on a thirsty day,
Is there any pleasure greater than that?
The cold explosion on the tongue, as the water of life partaking,
Quenching the deep desire for wetness, bestowing freedom from the pain of longing.
The smell of rain in the air, or its cooling mist on a hot day,
Truly a gift taken for granted yet given freely all the same.
The Sun and Moon and the stars, hanging in our skies,
Works of art to be admired and loved, leading to thoughts of infinity.
Clouds, things of beauty if noticed and enjoyed,
Their forms making the sky a museum of fine abstract art
Constantly changing for those who take the time to observe.
So much beauty surrounding us, each moment a gift beyond price,
Priceless no payment possible.
The ability to find hope in sorrow,
Faith in the face of doubt,
To forgive and therefore find freedom,
Compassion for those in need,
Empathy for the sorrowing,
Simply seeing the one before you without judging or comparing,
This is the greatest beauty of all,
So often overlooked and taken for granted.
For the joy of health,
Also for the patience found when health is gone,
For the strength hidden that flowers when needed
For the courage that comes when facing that final hurdle,
To let go and allow others to live their lives without you,
Moving into the mystery letting go one final time,
Wore out from living life as it should be lived.
For this let us be thankful.
Leaving on a jet plane
01.23.07 (7:31 pm) [edit] Leaving on a jet plane I can still remember the morning that I woke up, on the day that I was going to leave home for the first time. It was in August, the year was 1967 and I just graduated from High School. I can remember waking up, looking up at the ceiling with this very strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, you know the feeling you get when you are about to enter the first long decent on a roller coaster ride, making promises to God that if you survive you will not get back on again, but of course you do…. well that was the feeling without the promises to God. Part of me was very excited that I was about to embark on my first journey away from home, the other just wanted to lay in bed, hoping that I was dreaming and that I was really 16, having a bad dream. Heck, even a first period at school of English, on a rainy Monday morning looked attractive, well only for a second, it wasn’t that bad. I got up, could not eat, everything looked liked cardboard to me, so why bother to even try. I entered the Navy with two High School friends and we were going to San Diego for boot camp. We had to leave early, since the airport was in over on the “other side”. A name used for the Pacific side of the Canal Zone; I lived on the Atlantic side. It was a 50 mile journey, which was a long one, because it was often slow going when driving on the highway. It was really one small town after another and the speed limits where often low, if I remember correctly much of the journey was at the 25 mile an hour range. The trip was quiet, I was a bundle of conflicting emotions, one part wanting them to turn around and go back, the other really couldn’t wait to get on the plane. I encouraged the second one, though that strange feeling in my stomach did not abate in anyway. I was the third to make this leap from the family nest. Skip left in 1959, like me he was in the navy. He was seven years older and I think he stayed in the Navy for two terms. Robert the year before, in 1966, he joined the Air Force, and stayed in for one four year term, he was a fireman. Back then it was either college or the military. Since I lived on an army base for eight years, I decided the Navy was the best course of action. A choice I did not regret. We stopped off for some food when we got near the airport, and I was able to drink some coffee and ate a sweet role, which of course was tasteless. I went to the bathroom, mostly to simply get some space and when I was coming back I saw that my mother was crying, which had a powerful affect on me, since it was something that she seldom did. I guess I only saw her cry once before, and then it really tore me up. As I was approaching the table, one of the other mothers told her I was coming back and she quickly wiped her eyes, and pretended that everything was all right. I sat down, still feeling like I was dreaming, or perhaps I was just waking up to something bigger and was still not used to it. I felt bereft, like something important was dying and there was nothing I could do about it, in fact did not want to, a strange place to be, wanting to climb back into the world I had before, but could not, it would no longer fit, and itching to get going even though I felt like I was in a car about to go over a cliff. Pacheco (not sure about the spelling) and Michael, the two friends I was going with, were quiet like me. We would sometimes just look at each other and smile, but our eyes were not yet lit up with the excitement that we felt when we first joined the Navy. It was the sort of look that said, “What have we stepped into this time”. I wanted to look down at my shoes to see if they needed to be cleaned. Pacheco I knew for a few years, he lived across the street from me, his dad was a sergeant in the army. Michael came to Panama in his senior year of high school. So I guess we were all happy we were not alone on this trip. At the airport, we went to the waiting area, and I looked out at the TWA jet that was going to take us away. I was proud of my mother and father, they were there for me, but did not make it more difficult by letting me on to what they were feeling. I new they were sad, but they kept everything in check. One of my friend’s mothers completely lost it, wailing, and hugging her son, but that was ok also, just glad it was not happening to me. I don’t know how I would have reacted to something like that. We were dying in a manner of speaking, moving on to something unknown, larger, leaving childhood behind, and becoming an adult, with all the fear and anxiety that goes with it. The time came to board the plane. It was awful to have such a clear line between being just a teenager, to suddenly stepping over the line and being an ‘adult’, whatever that meant, at the time I had no idea. I am not always sure I understand what that means now. In any case I hugged my mom, a long time, she kept her tears in check, and harder yet, to hug my dad, who gave me a big kiss and was tearing a little. Of the two my dad could be the more emotional. So I then turned, and died to my old life, walked down the tunnel to the outside, marched woodenly to the plane, got in, and looked out the window. I could see my parents on the observation deck watching the plane. My mother looking calm; chain smoking as usual, with my dad’s arms around her shoulder giving her his quiet support, something he was very good at. Soon we were taxing down the runway. I looked out the window, and saw the air port, Panama, my childhood being left behind at great speed. I could feel my umbilical cord stretch, and then it was cut, painful but fast, and at least for a time the excitement of the journey over rode the fear and anxiety of what I was journeying toward. It was then I knew that what I was doing was the best possible thing for me to do. We all have rites of passage, and we each express it externally in different ways. I remember the night before my brother, Robert, joined the Air force. I don’t know what he was feeling but I felt ‘strange’ again, sad, anxious, also happy that I would have more room, always a premium in a big family…… but mostly not knowing what life would be like, with me then becoming the oldest of the eight remaining siblings, left at home. My brother did something that night for the first time, he smoked in front of my parents, or at least it was the first time I noticed it. He seemed a little nervous when doing it, taking out his cig and lighting it. My parents did not bat an eyelid, for they knew I think, like I did what it most likely represented for him. It was his line that needed to be crossed, his first smoke in front of my parents, as an equal, and an adult for the first time. Robert changed then for me, he was one of them. Just like me turning away from my parents, and walking toward the plane, I was one of them now. It happens so quickly, these little deaths, one after anther, with the fear and anxiety that goes with it. Perhaps without them we would not be able to face up and make choices that were conscious, and deliberate, who knows? So forty years have passed quickly, and I am sure the years will continue to speed by, until that final line has to be stepped over. Perhaps all the other little deaths are just practice for the big one. I am sure for me there will be fear and anxiety, but then perhaps that will again allow me to make a conscious choice on how to face that final stepping over. |
Such a gift
01.22.07 (6:43 pm) [edit]
I like being tired on a cold rainy night,
My mind longing for the oblivion of sleep,
Though never achieved due to my many dreams,
Themselves not a problem;
My sleep is undisturbed by their creation,
Often dreams have changed my life by what they present,
At times strongly stated in ways not to be ignored,
So yes I also love my dreams,
Even the scary ones that come at times
They too have a message one I would often not listen to,
Hence their strength in their delivery.
I love waking up and then rolling over
Falling again into blessed repose,
Sinking again into the darkness
Quiet,
Restful,
Such a gift sleep
I would go mad without it.
Within the heart
01.21.07 (10:15 am) [edit] Are we evil or are we good? Or is indifference to others it natural state? Concerned only for its own, Love for our own, Parents for their children, Children for their parents, Love between husband and wife, The deep sharing with friends, Is not the love we are called to. The love needed for the healing of the world, Its roots fed by the well spring of the infinite, To see others as oneself, As sacraments of the divine, The soul embraced by infinite love, Purified by the fire of God’s spirit, Seeing into the heart, Beyond race, Tribe, Religion, Male or female, All are equal before God. Only grace, The battle is within each human heart, Look within there you will find it. |
Before the storm
01.20.07 (5:22 pm) [edit]
Before the storm
The evening cool,
Bracing breeze intermittent,
Strong with power one moment
Then silence deep,
Waiting for the storm.
Clouds low hanging from the now dark sky,
Ice crystals in the air,
Waiting,
For freezing rain to come,
To cover the limbs of trees with its beauty,
Crystal on display for a short time to see,
Often some destruction in its wake
But beauty deep none the less.
Homeward bound I drive
Loving this special moment,
The quiet,
Windows down, open to the damp cold,
Breathing in its cool wetness
Wishing it not to end.
Wjy?
01.19.07 (7:59 am) [edit] She often calls me on the phone, Her need is at times overwhelming, What should I do? I care for her but keep a distance To help others is something we are made for, People cannot be controlled, There are those who fall through the cracks, So many like her in the world today, |
So we talk
01.18.07 (8:30 am) [edit] So we talk I sat before her, There is so much more I need to learn, Experience, Of just how to let my emotions to simply be. I talked, Again, Of my past Of my being left to myself at two years old, Yet an experience I once had however fleeting,
A seeming unending source of emotional energy,
Is there ever an end?
Acquiring understanding, I am not a victim nor that unique, Yet I am not alone, Some believe, Others not, Not sure that matters really, Truth is truth, Love is love, Nothing can change that, Or takes loves purpose or pursuit, away. It is our fate, What we are made for. We are desired by the incomprehensible, Something wondrous, For many impossible to believe, Others find it impossible not to. To exist is a joy, |
An old saying
01.17.07 (8:12 am) [edit] An old saying There is an old saying, Out of use, not heard much anymore, Yet it is something true if not very comforting. No surprise there, truth not always something desired, It brings out the ragged aspects of life to clearly Breaking down the false sense of security we need to surround us, Not allowing the precariousness of life to present itself In colors too stark, In deep colors of grey, black leading down the dark tunnel to where? The saying is very simple really: Life turns on a dime. Ken an elderly man of 78 whom I have known a long time. A quiet man, With a good sense of humor, Got around well, Or at least he did. On Thursday morning I was called in, Ken was there complaining of sever pain in his hips, Very difficult to walk, What is happening to me he asks? Next day it is now in his shoulders, Same amount of pain, Helpless, So we call an ambulance and take him to ER. Doctors somewhat baffled to what is the matter, So the search begins to find out the cause. Then his lungs become inflamed, Breathing difficult, Talking tiring leaves him gasping for air, Anxious, Scared, Yet also resigned after the initial shock Over his freedom torn from him, Heading to he knows not where, Death, Perhaps years trapped in a bed, Which is worse? He wants to live, Does not want to just give up If this dis-ease becomes more serious, He looked at me and said, “I want to live”. So one day he is walking around happy, The next bed ridden, Extreme pain his companion, Bed-mate, Yes life does turn on a dime, Perhaps it is good the starkness of this statement, What it really means, Is forgotten in the rush of our everyday lives, Perhaps at times repression is something good, At others perhaps not, Each must decide for themselves, how conscious they want to be. |
The draw
01.16.07 (3:48 pm) [edit] Our attention is drawn to little things, Beauty in others the biggest draw,
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The draw
01.16.07 (3:36 pm) [edit] Our attention is drawn to little things, Beauty in others the biggest draw,
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Is atheism viable?
01.15.07 (6:17 pm) [edit]Atheism is, essentially, a negative position. It is not believing in a god, or actively believing there is no God, or choosing to not exercise any belief or non-belief concerning God, etc. Which ever flavor is given to atheism, it is a negative position.
In discussions with atheists, I don't hear any evidence for the validity of atheism. There are no "proofs" that God does not exist in atheist circles; at least, none that I have heard -- especially since you can't prove a negative regarding God's existence. Of course, that isn't to say that atheists haven't attempted to offer some proofs that God does not exist. But their attempted proofs are invariably insufficient. After all, how do you prove there is no God in the universe? How do you prove that in all places and all times, there is no God? You can't. Besides, if there were a proof of Gods non-existence, then atheists would be continually using it. But we don't hear of any such commonly held proof supporting atheism or denying Gods existence. The atheist position is very difficult, if not impossible, to prove since it is an attempt to prove a negative. Therefore, since there are no proofs for atheisms truth and there are no proofs that there is no God, the atheist must hold his position by faith.
"Since atheism cannot be proven and since disproving evidences for God does not prove there is no God, atheists have a position that is intellectually indefensible."Faith, however, is not something atheists like to claim as the basis of adhering to atheism. Therefore, atheists must go on the attack and negate any evidences presented for Gods existence in order to give intellectual credence to their position. If they can create an evidential vacuum in which no theistic argument can survive, their position can be seen as more intellectually viable. It is in the negation of theistic proofs and evidences that atheism brings its self-justification to self-proclaimed life.
There is, however, only one way that atheism is intellectually defensible and that is in the abstract realm of simple possibility. In other words, it may be possible that there is no God. But, stating that something is possible doesn't mean that it is a reality or that it is wise to adopt the position. If I said it is possible that there is an ice cream factory on Jupiter, does that make it intellectually defensible or a position worth adopting merely because it is merely a possibility? Not at all. So, simply claiming a possibility based on nothing more than it being a possible option, no matter how remote, is not sufficient grounds for atheists to claim viability in their atheism. They must come up with more than "It is possible," or "There is no evidence for God," otherwise, there really must be an ice cream factory on Jupiter and the atheist should step up on the band wagon and start defending the position that Jupiterian ice cream exists.
At least we Christians have evidences for God's existence such as fulfilled biblical prophecy, Jesus' resurrection, the Transcendental Argument, the entropy problem, etc.
But there is another problem for atheists. Refuting evidences for Gods existence does not prove atheism true anymore than refuting an eyewitness testimony of a marriage denies the reality of the marriage. Since atheism cannot be proven and since disproving evidences for God does not prove there is no God, atheists have a position that is intellectually indefensible. At best, atheists can only say that there are no convincing evidences for God so far presented. They cannot say there are no evidences for God because the atheist cannot know all evidences that possibly exist in the world. At best, the atheist can only say that the evidence so far presented has been insufficient. This logically means that there could be evidences presented in the future that will suffice. The atheist must acknowledge that there may indeed be a proof that has so far been undiscovered and that the existence of God is possible. This would make the atheist more of an agnostic since at best the atheist can only be skeptical of Gods existence.
This is why atheists need to attack Christianity. It is because Christianity makes very high claims concerning Gods existence which challenges their atheism and pokes holes in their vacuum. They like the vacuum. They like having the universe with only one god in it: themselves.
The outsider
01.15.07 (1:53 pm) [edit] He sat before me looking down at his plate, I am so tired of being on the outside, he said, There has never been a place where I have fit in, No matter what I do, Or how hard I try, I end up in the same place, By myself, Alone, An outsider. As I listened, Deep feelings of helplessness swam to the surface, Nothing I could say would help, So I just sat and took what he presented, Prayed, Letting go of my need to try to somehow fix him. He has shared his past with me,Amazing me, his strength and courage to go on,His story would have shattered me,Broken my soul into pieces,Yet,He continues,Not knowing his greatness that he simply continues onward,Though things look bleak, hopeless, no end in sight. Our past dogs us, Bites at our heels, Runs us down until we simply drop, Swallowed up by the pain and wounds of the past,That flow like lava from the gaping inner wounds Hidden from the sight of others. Sucking out our life’s energy, Enclosing, Prison like our life creating. How are cycles broken? Insight when it comes often brings greater pain, Yet life is better with it since it points to a doorway,A new beginning, The seed planted perhaps bearing fruit slowly, Perhaps hidden, Until one day something changes, Hope arising from the dark depths, Pointing, The road that needs to be traveled. So painfully,Yet with a sense of relief,I to have learned a gut wrenching lesson,I cannot take on the pain of others,Nor can I save them. My faith has grown, Trust in God deepened, In the darkness hour faith still stands firm Of God’s inner light and love that enfolds us all. |
Texas woman sees Christ as a radiant, Spirit being
01.15.07 (10:21 am) [edit]
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Welcome to Skeptics Anonymous
01.14.07 (7:12 pm) [edit] Welcome to Skeptics Anonymous Guy Lyon Playfair L.David Leiter of Willow Grove, Pennsylvania was for several years 'actively' engaged with the Philadelphia Association for Critical Thinking (PhACT) after being introduced to it by an old friend, a sometime CSICOP supporter who had left that organisation 'in protest over specific non-professional behaviour on their part'. This, Leiter has found, is 'a seemingly frequent complaint of former CSICOPers'. Leiter is all for what he calls ordinary skepticism which 'acts to refine and improve scientific enquiry', but 'organised skepticism' struck him as something very different and rather alarming. Its adherents, he noted, tend to be people 'whose mental processes are continually and rigidly out of balance, in the direction of disbelief'. What particularly worried him was that organised skeptics tended to be pretty ignorant about the subjects they were hoping to debunk. Some would even deliberately avoid reading anything that was contrary to their views as if they were afraid of being contaminated. He had the impression that people joined PhACT 'much as one might join any other support group, say, Alcoholics Anonymous' in the hope of finding 'comfort, consolation and support among their own kind'. His most interesting finding was that all the hard-line skeptics he came to know personally (getting on quite well with some of them) admitted that they had had 'an unfortunate experience with a faith-based philosophy, most often a conventional religion' (His emphasis). They had lurched from one extreme to the other, embracing science as the ultimate non-faith- based philosophy but unfortunately doing so 'with one thing no true scientists can afford to possess, a closed mind'. PhACT members must have begun to suspect they had a fifth columnist in their midst when Leiter gave a talk entitled 'Skeptical About Skeptics' which received a review in the society's newsletter that was 'studded with ridicule' of the kind he had come to expect. He duly made a formal reply which the editor refused to publish. He concluded that skeptics 'can dish it out but they can't take it'. He eventually blew the whistle by 'outing' himself in the Journal of Scientific Exploration (Vol.16 No.1, 2002) with an article entitled The Pathology of Organised Skepticism, which prompted a lengthy reply in PhACT's newsletter from a disgruntled member named Amardeo Sarma entitled Misguided Stigmatisation of "Organised Skepticism" Once again, Leiter's rejoinder was not published which, as he points out in a follow-up JSE essay (Vol. 18 No.4, 2004), it would have been had Sarma published his piece in the JSE where, he adds gleefully, it would have had a much wider readership. Leiter subsequently found additional hard evidence for his two main conclusions: that extreme skeptics are often rebounding from exposure to a faith-based philosophy in their formative years and that they avoid reading anything that threatens to change their minds or at least broaden them a little. One PhACT member with whom he remained on good terms admitted that he had been a 'bible-believing Christian' in his high school years but had subsequently become an avowed atheist who found much of Christian doctrine ' preposterous '. Two other members admitted, on their society's website message board, to having reacted to their strict religious upbringing in a similar way. Even so, Leiter's atheist friend was not opposed to free enquiry. He contributed generously to PhACT's on-line lending library, offering books of his own for loan on a number of subjects other than skepticism including religion, parapsychology, UFOs and even creationism. Leiter asked him how many members had availed themselves of his offer of access to his private library. The answer was - 'None'. His friend had come to suspect that some of his fellow skeptics 'may actually have a phobia about reading material that is contrary to their own views'. It is gratifying to know that skeptics, like reformed alcoholics, can be useful if only for keeping each other happy and protecting them from all those heretical ideas out there. |
The unbearable brightness of being Right
01.14.07 (9:24 am) [edit]Articles by Rupert Sheldrake
The Unbearable Brightness of Being Right
Rupert Sheldrake reviews Daniel Dennett's new book
Toronto Globe and Mail, February 4, 2006
Breaking the Spell: Religion as a Natural Phenomenon
by Daniel Dennett.
In this book, Daniel Dennett proclaims himself "bright." He is impressed by the success of homosexuals in calling themselves "gay," and, together with the evolutionist Richard Dawkins, he is trying to re-brand atheism.
The results so far have been disappointing. One problem is that calling yourself bright sounds arrogant. Dennett, a U.S. philosopher of mind, suggests a new solution: "Those who are not brights are not necessarily dim. . . . Since, unlike us brights, they believe in the supernatural, perhaps they would like to call themselves supers."
Atheists used to believe that with the spread of secular education, religion would fade away and science reign supreme. But this has not happened. Breaking the Spell is part of a wave of new books by militant atheists who feel threatened by the power of religion. As part of this campaign, Dawkins presented a series of programs against religion on British television last month, called The Root of All Evil? and promoted by the broadcasters as a "polemic." Dawkins describes Breaking the Spell as "surpassingly brilliant."
Dennett wants to reach "as wide an audience of believers as possible," but he has an ambiguous attitude to his intended audience. Sometimes he is scornful, as when he compares religion to nicotine addiction, echoing Karl Marx's dictum that religion is "the opium of the people," or when he follows Dawkins in treating religious beliefs as "memes" -- defined as "cultural replicators" -- that leap from brain to brain like viruses.
He opens the book with the story of an ant climbing a blade of grass, falling down and climbing up again because "its brain has been commandeered by a tiny parasite, a lancet fluke, that needs to get itself into the stomach of a sheep or cow in order to complete its reproductive cycle." He asks, "Does anything like this ever happen to human beings? Yes indeed. We often find human beings . . . devoting their entire lives to furthering the interests of an idea that has lodged in their brains."
Sometimes Dennett is friendlier to his religious readers, and offers them lengthy justifications for his skeptical approach. He concedes that religion can serve a useful function by bringing out the best in a person. He also cites a series of studies that show that regular churchgoers tend to be healthier, have better morale and live longer than those who do not attend religious services.
Whatever the benefits of religions, Dennett believes that they arise entirely inside human minds. No spiritual realities exist outside us. He also takes it for granted that the mind "is the brain, or, more specifically, a system or organization within the brain that has evolved in much the same way as our immune system or respiratory system or digestive system has evolved . . . by the foresightless process of evolution by natural selection." He assumes what he sets out to prove.
The central message of this book is that religion is a product of evolutionary psychology, based on aspects of human nature favoured by natural selection over many thousands of years. Dennett proposes a variety of theories: First, "sweet tooth" theories. We have evolved a receptor system for sweet things, and in a similar way we might have a "god centre" in our brains. Such a centre might depend on a "mystical gene" that was favoured by natural selection because people with it tended to survive better.
Second, religions might be memes that infect our brains. They are not necessarily parasitic, but could be symbiotic, conferring advantages on those who are infected.
Third, religion might be favoured in sexual selection by females. For example, women might have preferred men who demonstrated sensitivity to music and ceremony, thus spreading genes for religious behaviour within the population.
Fourth, religions may be cultural artifacts, like money. They could have evolved because they make social life more harmonious, secure and efficient. Or else they could have evolved because they enable an elite to prey upon the ill-informed and powerless.
Fifth, religions may be rather like pearls, beautiful byproducts that arose in response to irritants, which then captivated human beings for no good reason.
These theories are evidence-free and wildly speculative. By several criteria, they are pseudoscience. Or they are intellectual games. In any case, Dennett goes on to speculate further. For example, in shamanic cultures, there might have been natural selection for a "hypnotizability gene" that affected brain chemistry, making people more prone to suggestion by shamans, and hence more likely to survive ill health because of a greater placebo response.
He also proposes that we have inherited an evolved capacity for romantic love that has been exploited by religious memes, which could "get people to think that it was actually honourable to take offence, to attack all skeptics with fury, to lash out wildly and without concern for their own safety."
Dennett's book was commissioned in the wake of 9/11, and he is preoccupied with the dangers of religious fanaticism. But I wish he had discussed how atheism itself can become fanatical and destructive. The Soviet Union was run by brights. Stalin was an atheist, as were Mao Zedong and the Red Guards in China, and Pol Pot in Cambodia. The bright Red Army Faction in Germany was in the vanguard of modern urban terrorism. Brights are not always benign.
Dennett sees himself as being brave, and imagines that by discussing religion skeptically he risks "getting poked in the nose or worse, and yet I persist." Perhaps he is in danger in the United States, but in Britain, where I live, moderate forms of atheism and secular humanism have long been the standard belief systems among educated people, and are generally uncontroversial, except when promoted too zealously.
It soon becomes clear that Dennett knows very little about religion, apart from stereotypes about fanaticism and credulity. In this field he is an amateur, not an expert. He admits that his research for this book was hurried because of the "urgency of the message." His study of religious experience seems to have been limited to discussions with some of his students at a Tufts University seminar in 2004, an unpublished questionnaire survey and "quite a few" interviews.
His perspective is largely confined to the United States, and to American Protestantism in particular. He seems to know next to nothing about Catholic or Greek or Russian Orthodox forms of Christianity, or about Christian theology, or about Judaism, Islam, Hinduism or Buddhism.
For me, the most interesting part of Dennett's argument is his chapter on Belief in Belief. He points out that beliefs are social forces in their own right, and that some beliefs need to be maintained for the general good. For instance, democracy depends on maintaining a belief in democracy. The authority of science likewise depends on maintaining a belief in scientific authority: "Since the belief in the integrity of scientific procedures is almost as important as the actual integrity, there is always a tension between a whistle-blower and the authorities, even when they know that they have mistakenly conferred scientific respectability on a fraudulently obtained result."
Dennett argues that, in a similar way, many people support religion because they believe that religious belief is important for others.
In reading this book, I appreciated Dennett's intelligence and ingenuity. But he is pompous when he tries to persuade, even bully, religious believers to go on reading his book, and patronizing toward those who have not achieved the intellectual superiority to which atheists lay claim.
I ought to have been an ideal reader: I am a Christian, an Anglican, not a bright. I am a strong believer in the value of scientific enquiry. I used to be an atheist myself. But I didn't find myself being reconverted by reading Breaking the Spell, and I was put off by Dennett's one-sidedness and dogmatic certainty. His commitment to atheism makes him dismiss out of hand the significance of religious experiences. For example, many people have experienced a sense of the presence of God, or overwhelming love, or a feeling of unity with nature, or visions, or transformative near-death experiences. In the 1970s, the Oxford biologist Sir Alister Hardy initiated a scientific enquiry into religious experiences in Britain, and found that that they were far more common than most atheists -- and even most believers -- had imagined.
Both Dennett and I admire William James, one of the pioneers of psychology, and author of the classic book The Varieties of Religious Experience. James made a serious study of people's accounts of religious experiences, as did Hardy. But Dennett rules all such evidence out of court. Powerful personal experiences "can't be used as contributions to the communal discussion that we are now conducting." He assumes that religious experiences are generated inside the brain, and that they are illusory.
How can Dennett be so sure? In the end, it all comes down to his own beliefs. Bright memes have infected him and taken over his brain. Those memes are now trying to leap from his brain into yours through the medium of Breaking the Spell.
This review appeared on the website of Globe and Mail the Canadian source for online news globeandmail.com
The corner
01.14.07 (8:18 am) [edit] I stand still unmoving, Trapped facing the corner I have put myself in, Again, Unending cycles yet unable to break free Bringing me over and over again to this confined space. I have been here so many tines, Stuck, Looking at the dust before me, That lies all around me, My feet, Covering the walls, My soul choking on its fine mist like particles, Leftovers from my own choices, Some free, Others not, Perhaps vestiges of freedom unused. Others unthinking reactions leading here, Always bringing me to this point. The home where my failures come to light, With its usual temptation to despair. Give up, What is the use, Why bother, One of my inner voices scream. Such nonsense, really, a coward’s way out, So easy to just sink, Become skeptical, No struggle at all to let go, To allow my own seeds of darkness to sprout forth, Hedging out all that is not death. Why not choose life, Joy, Hope, Mercy, Offered freely? So I stand, Trapped, Until I turn towards the light waiting, It’s embrace healing, Allowing me to keep my own seeds of destruction at bay, Until the day of final healing and freedom come. Cycles continue, Yet hope is ever new, Keeping the darkness and its rest at bay. |
What is it?
01.12.07 (5:22 pm) [edit]
What is it?
Within each person that you see,
That man, or woman, walking beside you;
Children also laughing, crying, screaming, playing,
Each has an inner world with depths not yet fathomed.
Things hidden lie in the depths,
Forgotten,
Perhaps sleeping not yet awakened from slumber;
Let sleeping dogs lie, so the saying goes.
Conflicting desires,
Voices speaking,
Compulsive often repetitive,
For many, that is who they are, these voices.
Driven,
First this emotion,
Now that,
This feeling,
Then another.
An endless swirling of noise,
Worry,
Fear,
Jealousy,
Making true thought difficult if not impossible.
There is also joy,
Love,
Happiness,
Yet it passes onto something else.
Like vapor rising from the earth,
So are our emotions and feelings,
For a time strong,
Then dissipating, gone.
What is there below this rabble?
When the noise stops,
Quiet achieved,
Peace.
What is it that observes?
Simply watches;
Awareness,
Below all pounding waves?
Who are you?
Who am I?
Whisperings
01.11.07 (4:45 pm) [edit]
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Today at least we have ideals, Things we strive for, Would like to be true, but the time is not yet. We talk of brotherhood, Understanding, Learning to love those who are different, Good things, Perhaps, at least in the area of ideas, we are evolving. Yet in spite of that some things are getting worse, Boundaries going up, Primitive impulses once again in ascendance, Raising fears and stereotypes, With just enough truth to make them dangerous. I see it rising within my own soul, Anger, hatred, seeking my attention, Their snarling images and whisperings speak to me Speaking of things to come. “They, Them, Dangerous, must be stopped at all cost, Not one innocent, All a danger, Evil.” Using terror even among themselves, Killing innocents, Women, children, There own people. Destroying those who think differently, Freedom gone where they rule. You can’t fight terror and win, Terror must be fought with terror, If won at a cost truly horrific. A terrible thought Yet there, At times sneering at my pretensions of love, Compassion, Empathy for others. It is time, The blood drenched sun and moon speak to me, Of what is too come. Yes we have ideals, Better, true, than in the past, Yet below the surface we still rage Fearful of what is to become, Interested in only our own, Our loved ones, Those outside are that, Outside. One day the straw will drop, The back will be broken, And then, Terror will fall upon them, Their cities made hostage because of terror, Cities will fall, Holy places destroyed, Peoples expelled from theiradopted lands, Feared, Hated, Without pity will they be destroyed, Such is the price of terror, Sent out one time too many. How will we survive? So primitive are we, Underneath the facade, The culture, Lurks warriors in lust for blood, Revenge, Destroying those who are a threat. What is to become of us? These cycles that have a life and pattern of their own? It grows, A cancer of hatred and fear, Infecting all, The primal force gathering slowly Devouring our humanity, Eating the souls of men, Until only darkness remains, Death. Yet we are truly brothers and sisters, Made in God’s image, Of infinite value, All forgotten in the orgy to come, Or perhaps it will not, Perhaps the inner hunger can be controlled. If not the many will pay for the crimes of the few, Their silence, Only hastening what must come if no change possible. The storm is coming, Perhaps I am wrong, If so I will be happy, I fear otherwise. May God have pity on all of us his Children. |
What is atheism?
01.11.07 (10:17 am) [edit] What is Atheism? The word ‘atheism’ comes from the negative ‘a’ which means ‘no’ and ‘theos’ which means ‘god.’ Hence, atheism in the most base terms means ‘no god.’ Basically, atheism is the lack of belief in a god and/or the belief that there is no god. By contrast, theism is the belief that there is a God, that he is knowable, and that he is involved in the world. Most atheists do not consider themselves anti-theists, but simply non-theists. I've encountered many atheists who claim that atheism is not a belief system while others say it is. Since there is no official atheist organization, nailing down which description of atheism to use can be difficult. Nevertheless, following are some definitions offered by atheists. Which ever definition you go by, atheism denies God.
There are two main categories of atheists: strong and weak, with variations in between. Strong atheists actively believe and state that no God exists. They expressly denounce the Christian God along with any other god. Strong atheists are usually more aggressive in their conversations with theists and try to shoot holes in theistic beliefs. They like to use logic and anti-biblical e |