tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74499493266814414952024-03-12T20:16:14.182-07:00EraSeek's BlogEraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-47708178154536754192017-10-19T13:55:00.000-07:002017-10-19T13:55:55.311-07:00The SeaHouse<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The SeaHouse<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It was rather cheap. That was a plus. It had generally
thirteen pelicans on the roof, sometimes less, sometimes more, depending on
their needs and habits. They considered the roofline and the chimney tops their
home. I liked that. The foundation was a bit wonky and half the house sat at a
bit of an angle. No room for a garden at all with only seawater fore and aft,
and barnacled rocks beneath and landward. I rather liked the place. It had
character, and the only kind of neighbors I cared for: large-billed birds and
slow-moving tidal life. It was cheap enough no insurance was required and neglected
enough no inspector dared care. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I made my home in the top two floors as the bottom floor was
generally awash during high tides, and yes, it was still a bit moist and drafty
as well, but a bit of stuffing in the cracks and crevasses and corners here and
there solved most of that, and a thick rug on the deck plus a fix to the
fireplaces took care of the rest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Being a writer I had no real need of people or conveniences,
for I prefer pen and paper and I despise society and see it as a determent to
living an honest life and one fully exposed to the real world. People are so egocentric
and society so anthropocentric, everything is about them. They have even anthropomorphized
God in their own image. Ah, but the world is full of stars! And seas! And life
and light! Life is not just that which respires in and out, no! Just as light
is not just the few wavelengths which we perceive! Light is everywhere. The
universe is not dark. It is filled with light. Light is everywhere. It is how
broadly you can see to define it. Life is universal. You shouldn’t define it by
your own limits. Its not just about you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And “Man’s” obsession with God? Their desire to find approval
for themselves? No, God is not about you and your obsession with yourself, what
you wish to call your salvation. God, if that is what you must label it, is so
much more than that. You must see more broadly, beyond your own limits, to
define that which is universal. You see, our perception of the world comes in
its separateness, its pieces, but it is its connectedness which is its reality,
not its pieces.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ah, but I wander off on the beaten path of philosophy! Now
its time to return to the here and now. I have lived in this house for two
years now and weathered many a storm. One bangs at my footings and dashes at my
door as I write. And a good one it is! The night is long and all the resident pelicans
have abandoned me early on. The house groans a bit, rather much really, and the
lower floor is awash as never before. It is a glorious feeling really, to be so
alive, and a part of this tempest and hear the bones of this house complain and
threaten to give way. One does love to be in the midst of something important
whether it be battle or birth. A peak experience as they say. Man built this
glorious old house and it shall surely fail be it tonight or on some tomorrow,
but nature built the rocks below it and the mountains of the earth and they
shall surely fail as well, just over a longer period of time. But their failure
is their success as well, for they have done their purpose, fulfilled their
mission, and lived its meaning! I as well, whether it be in this storm or some
other, my coming failure will fulfill my intended meaning and I shall be awash
in another purpose of no less importance. Just as the raging storm at my door
is dynamic, so is existence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-48995174786815497042017-01-01T08:43:00.000-08:002017-01-01T08:43:19.788-08:00The Cold Cold Squirrels of Winter<div class="adn ads" style="background-color: white; border-left: 1px solid transparent; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; padding-bottom: 20px; padding-left: 4px;">
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The Cold Cold Squirrels of Winter<br /><br />Nestled in the boughs of winter<br />Cold icy snowy boughs of winter<br />He snuggles down into his own fur and leaf litter<br />Thinking of peanuts and suet cakes and corn.<br /><br />Nestled in the boughs of winter<br />No thoughts of fall, of summer, or spring arise.<br />No thoughts of others or green grass or sun occur<br />Only peanuts and suet cakes and corn endure.<br /><br />Nestled in the boughs of winter<br />The first light comes<br />The ice fog is here<br />The snow lightly there upon the ground<br />And on the railing four peanuts in their shell appear. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-31668539614811974612016-08-21T13:03:00.000-07:002016-08-21T13:05:56.415-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Forgiveness</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">To be social is to be forgiving. Am I social? Only very slightly so.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">I prefer an empty countryside to a gathering of most people. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">I find more civility there and certainly a more honest forgiveness in return.</span></div>
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EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-8454302698190923562016-07-18T20:36:00.000-07:002016-07-18T20:36:58.903-07:00How I can prove God exists, sort of.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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How I can prove God
exists, sort of.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Scientists have a problem called the cosmological constant.
This is a reference (as I understand it, and this disclaimer applies to
everything I say here) to the level of inherent energy in the vacuum of
spacetime. If lower, the stars and life
could not form. If higher, all would fly apart and life would be impossible. I
think I have that close to right. In any case, because the cosmological
constant is balanced so perfectly, impossibly perfectly, they are troubled by
this fact. Some have said this has to point to a higher intelligence, i.e. God,
to have so many things so perfectly tuned for existence to work. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The solution comes in the form of Multiverses , and the Many
Worlds theory, which may be two perspectives of the same thing. The Multiverse theory is that this is only
one of an infinite number of universes, each with its own set of physical laws
and circumstances. To make sense of our perfect situation, it is said that we
just happen to be the one that worked among the infinite number of those that
didn’t, at least the same way. In this scenario all possible (or should I say
impossible) universes must exist. An infinite number, for us to have occurred.
This means much the same as the Many Worlds theory puts forth. In that case,
the timeline of your life is a constant selection of choices every instant, and
a constantly new number of “yous” follow every possible choice path; an endless
infinite branching of your timeline. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Now consider what this means, and what they say about this
which may sound ridiculous. Every scenario you can possibly think of exists in
one of these worlds. In one, you are Hitler. In another you are long dead, or
never been born. In another we never became human, and another we are gods.
Whatever. So you see, this doesn’t sound
sensible whatsoever, but the vast array of universes don’t care what we think
sensible.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Now in one of these universes, there exists, beyond any doubt, a god, in fact God, if all possible
worlds exists. And this god is the God of all the timelines and all the
multiverses. And so God exists. And if theses theories are as foolish as they
sound, and wrong… what then? We are left with the conundrum that our set of circumstances
are too, in fact, impossibly balanced. What then?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Here’s what I think, lowly as my educational and
intellectual status might be. First of all, regarding infinite timelines and
free will: The past is recorded and done. It existed but is now a static record
that helped to establish the present. The future is potential, and its path,
though there are many possibles, is not yet established. The future is
potential, in the same regard as wave function in quantum mechanics. The
present is dynamic, and is the current state of the universe as determined by
the past state, and entropy and past choices. The present, along with the
current state of the universe, and flow of entropy, is also dynamic with an infinite
web of events and choices, which collapses the wave function and determines the
next instant of the state of the universe. It is like a rolling wave or a
turning wheel, where the present is where the wheel meets the ground.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And what of God? Well, personally, I think we have a
problem. What IS God? I feel we have not truly defined what we even mean. Oh,
we have this childish mythical figure we use in our minds, and that is
forgivable because the concept of God is really, by “definition” well beyond
our ability to comprehend. Here is what I think. In the old testament Moses ask
God his name. God’s reply is something akin to “I Am.” And thus you have it.
God Is existence. The Mystery buried in existence,
and there is nothing more difficult to understand then that.<o:p></o:p></div>
EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-3136912414381824722016-07-05T17:05:00.002-07:002016-07-05T17:05:05.325-07:00My Night Began Like Ancient Men<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My Night Began Like
Ancient Men<o:p></o:p></div>
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My night began like ancient men,<o:p></o:p></div>
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Who close their eyes and wake again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Those things that do disturb my sleep,<o:p></o:p></div>
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And cause most men like me to weep,<o:p></o:p></div>
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Are things in past I did not do, <o:p></o:p></div>
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Yes indeed, it is so true. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Life neglected is not regained, <o:p></o:p></div>
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That is the thing that’s most insane<o:p></o:p></div>
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About this life, the waste involved, <o:p></o:p></div>
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When not lived fully, and not resolved.<o:p></o:p></div>
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To live it bravely and without regret,<o:p></o:p></div>
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One must get up, not be beset<o:p></o:p></div>
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By seductive comfort, and simple ways<o:p></o:p></div>
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That fills one’s soul and kills one’s days.<o:p></o:p></div>
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An adventurous life need not die,<o:p></o:p></div>
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Because of age and death grows neigh. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Live your life as if it’s new,<o:p></o:p></div>
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Beauty, hope and love pursue.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then go gently into that night,</div>
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Knowing full well
that all went right.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-82781215489343244862016-05-02T10:20:00.000-07:002016-05-02T10:20:15.242-07:00In a Moment<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">In a moment it comes back to you; the things you've forgotten to remember.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6yMhyB1hX7BvQECincmseozN1JmMRrFWQvDHnazwkZXG-CjGhewKEHFrgo1Ao3VwLCUoHTEiFy_cL6CDuaLaXEnAuoEIpA2PDzCHRlAJjOk3JFKM7v72ImqV3Vq1KUbPuOpX4g3c106lu/s1600/bird+flock.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6yMhyB1hX7BvQECincmseozN1JmMRrFWQvDHnazwkZXG-CjGhewKEHFrgo1Ao3VwLCUoHTEiFy_cL6CDuaLaXEnAuoEIpA2PDzCHRlAJjOk3JFKM7v72ImqV3Vq1KUbPuOpX4g3c106lu/s400/bird+flock.jpg" width="400" /></a></span>EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-61273912493946065362016-04-02T11:35:00.000-07:002016-04-02T11:35:45.119-07:00Country Cafe<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Country Café<o:p></o:p></div>
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Nice high ceilings, big open windows, country kitchen
chairs, and tables, wooden US flag on the wall, big preamble of the Constitution
on the wall under glass, a man with wife sitting below it, he with an NRA tee
shirt on. I want to tell him it’s not just his, it belongs to all of us! Glad
to see they have not edited out the part that says ‘to promote the general welfare’.
It belongs to and includes all of us, every one of us, even those you and I don’t
like or agree with. I enjoy the space, the country feel, but the coffee is
sub-par, and the hash browns tough and too crunchy and somehow flat. I’m
reading a chapter entitled ‘Paganism’ from ‘Holy The Firm’ by Annie Dillard.
Trains have been passing by. Now sitting out front on a porch bench writing,
country songs suddenly switch to ‘Mary Jane’s Last Dance’. When I paid my bill there
was a stack of US Constitution booklets on the counter (the kind those
so-called militia men were carrying around at the Malheur National Wildlife
Refuge), free for the taking. That’s fine. It’s the “Mine not yours” attitude I
object to! Just like their so called version of Christianity. When you walk
into someplace like this I love the country-friendly attitude you have here,
but I fit in with my blue jeans and red ball cap. I worry that they’ve lost
their soul, their Christianity has lost it’s soul, their country-friendly
attitude has lost it’s soul once the “other” walks in, or I tell them I voted
for Obama twice and love him, or that I read Annie Dillard.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Am I being unfair? Am I prejudging, judgmental? I hope so, I
hope it’s just me, but I’ve been to the town of Connell, Wa. I’ve seen this
before.<o:p></o:p></div>
EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-13625478493635092872015-02-08T21:59:00.001-08:002015-02-08T21:59:55.337-08:00Zio and the Nightwind<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiflLbC_KorcmLQXcYcP-WQloJx7TJiB7MRbTSXcAONNZAJA8WO2WV_HJIV4kg5WnjInPCgO6DExqUIkS1NOQGMlsQTHTMjwjrLV8B-lx44DG3mzUbX8jdwLUyiU-gydp78Vy1PTOEaPeMb/s1600/zio+and+the+nightwind.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiflLbC_KorcmLQXcYcP-WQloJx7TJiB7MRbTSXcAONNZAJA8WO2WV_HJIV4kg5WnjInPCgO6DExqUIkS1NOQGMlsQTHTMjwjrLV8B-lx44DG3mzUbX8jdwLUyiU-gydp78Vy1PTOEaPeMb/s1600/zio+and+the+nightwind.jpg" height="320" width="244" /></a></div>
<center>
Zio and the Nightwind</center>
In the golden afternoon, and in a fresh breeze, the Zio ran with the Nightwind, as companions will, side by side, keeping pace, out to live life’s pleasures of the moment. The airs spoke of a quietness, the simple splash of bow wake, the light singing of the zephyrs in the rigging, it was a time of joy of simply being.<br />
In the distance cumulous clouds boiled up as high towers in the sky, billowy and bright. Below them the sea turned a steely gray, and around and behind where singular clouds of pinks and orange. And we …we were off, racing to nowhere, racing towards Eden.<br />
I lay content in my state, against the wheelhouse boards, watching those distant cumulous clouds boil, thinking of what it would be like to live in those celestial chiefdoms, where mists do battle with turbulence, whose castle walls are ever changing. Heaven there or heaven here; what difference. Perhaps they should be viewed as sails, high riggings, with mainsails and spinnakers, …ships of state, a’ sail on higher seas then ours, and with perhaps a greater purpose. A fleet on the way, guided by a different compass rose, manned by a heavenly host.<br />
Perhaps so. But if they peer down on us from their coign of vantage, surely they must think …”Oh, what a lovely sight! Man’s vessels under sail, enjoying such a fine afternoon. Look how they lay against the breezes, side by side, keeping pace. Companions. Lovers. Caressing life’s gift. Surely it must be The Zio and The Nightwind, together again. The most lovely of all Man’s ships.”<br />
And so it surely is. And so it is.<br /><span style="color: grey;"><i>~EraSeek</i></span>EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-50600258443207922542014-09-11T22:11:00.000-07:002014-09-13T18:36:51.159-07:00When I Have Grown Old and Body Weary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkGP22vUqRPlQ9TYqm0blquxCx-JWmGh_609Zef0PPKHni5nA4kG6P2UuTo59XedfjF6779PVabYUQQd7I24ryB6Wmbj2zW-UmIZhM0LTUntQxwvIIKFn4Q0DcnTLO_yuLj-2NWrlX5lc/s1600/IMG_0251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkGP22vUqRPlQ9TYqm0blquxCx-JWmGh_609Zef0PPKHni5nA4kG6P2UuTo59XedfjF6779PVabYUQQd7I24ryB6Wmbj2zW-UmIZhM0LTUntQxwvIIKFn4Q0DcnTLO_yuLj-2NWrlX5lc/s1600/IMG_0251.JPG" height="230" width="400" /></a></div>
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When I have grown old and body weary,<br />
When mind and eyes are fading<br />
And all my pleasures are past me,<br />
When I breathe slow and heavy, <br />
And my last steps are near,<br />
Do this for me!<br />
<br />
Take me to a grand trailhead! <br />
One that I have loved or know not yet!<br />
Replace my cane with a long and light ice axe,<br />
Allow me a kiss and hug,<br />
And prove your love for me!<br />
Set me on my way!<br />
Allow me my last freedom!<br />
<br />
Chain me not to this society's answer<br />
Of relinquished responsibility:<br />
Sentenced to a bed I do not know!<br />
<br />
Allow me my last breath among beauty!<br />
No matter how harsh! <br />
Of mountain and stream,<br />
River and blizzard.<br />
Driving rains,<br />
And wind so strong I know it is God's own breath!<br />
<br />
I release you your responsibilities,<br />
Save this one:<br />
Set me free on my final day!EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-52680450398810419002014-07-27T08:30:00.001-07:002014-07-27T08:30:04.599-07:00What the Poet Says<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
What is it the poet says <br />
when he says nothing much at all?<br />
<br />
What is it the poet says<br />
when the poem has no rhyme or reason?<br />
<br />
What is it the poet says<br />
when his sentence is broken here and there?<br />
<br />
What is it the poet says<br />
when all his words are seasons?EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-86008359081723334872014-06-19T20:46:00.000-07:002014-06-19T20:46:02.059-07:00A Singular Line<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It began as a line.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">No, it began as a point</span> from which the line proceeded. <br />
No, it began as a stick from which the point was made and thus from which the line proceeded.<br />
No, actually, it began with a thought. But it was not much of a thought, it was more of a simple action, the action of plucking up a stick and poking it into the ground. This created the point from which proceeded the line.<br />
<br />
He drew the line in the earth with the simplest of thought, and the singular purpose that it would be straight. This was simple enough in that there was nothing about to interfere with this purpose, neither building nor home, track nor road, neither tree nor bush, person nor any place of name. A desert without bump nor lizard, hill nor snake, it being flat in all directions. An endless horizon. On he drew, without regard for time or treasure. On he drew in the noonday heat and the cool of night, always under an endless sky.<br />
<br />
All lines have a beginning, that being a point in time and space, but must it have a purpose? Must it have an end? Some lines separate sides as a purpose; left from right, this from that, us from them. If this line ever had that as a purpose drawing up sides was the first casualty of its linear life. This line had come to care less about this or that! And on he drew his singular line...<br />
<br />
Now as I have said all lines have a point of origin in time and space, and thus travel from somewhere to somewhere, but this line was not traveling to anywhere, at least in particular, and as a matter of fact could have cared less, nor even considered it. Thus, some cosmic destination was the second purposeful casualty in its linear life, if it ever existed at all.<br />
<br />
The line was now well beyond the horizon, and the horizon grew further away, although it was never further away than it always had been. And on he drew. His feet were tired and his wrist was sore, his suit had become quite sweaty and he had developed a kink in his back, but he hardly noticed any of this. On he drew.<br />
<br />
Lines are funny things when they travel great distances without great purpose, they begin to forget their beginnings. It fades from memory. And thus it was with this line. Thus the third casualty of this line's linear life; its beginnings.<br />
<br />
And on it went. The longer he drew the line across the face of the earth, the less he or the line knew or cared about its own length. Its distance faded until nothing was of any concern but the point at which the stick touched the earth. The ever presence of the present. But wasn't that always the case?<br />
<br />
He withdrew the stick from the face of the earth and the line, then and there, died as a living active thing. It had never defined anything, nor cared to. Its own future never even considered. Its own past, faded from memory. Its present, now withdrawn.<br />
<br />
As he uncrinked his back, he stood up straight and turned to look back along the line's length, and for the first time in days was flush with a singular thought, and even a sense of pride: "Damned if that isn't one straight line!"EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-22330822508621167332014-02-10T13:54:00.001-08:002014-02-10T13:54:40.856-08:00Couplings<br />
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In quantum mechanics there is a strange coupling of future and past. It suggests that the future determines the present and we in the present determines the history of what would only have been possibilities of the past.EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-45247402373824904442013-01-24T20:30:00.000-08:002013-01-24T20:30:08.216-08:00The Tools we use in Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUbE54MJ4SqdMmB0EftNJm3nohWK1kaVdMAO_yHrzoknCudTMtUGwqCBZDWv6Dq-K-wwV_63MzXd3dlCugoNRbFM-7LTFqyeLTrN7FimUS0kDAlePuoFaGKycB4hRJz7GduyriU2afm6pC/s1600/fishing+boat+greece+Herbert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUbE54MJ4SqdMmB0EftNJm3nohWK1kaVdMAO_yHrzoknCudTMtUGwqCBZDWv6Dq-K-wwV_63MzXd3dlCugoNRbFM-7LTFqyeLTrN7FimUS0kDAlePuoFaGKycB4hRJz7GduyriU2afm6pC/s320/fishing+boat+greece+Herbert.jpg" width="283" /></a></div>
<span class="userContent"></span><br />
<span class="userContent">We shape the tools which in turn shape us. </span><span class="userContent">But every tool does but one thing, it extends us out into that which is greater than ourselves.</span> EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-82521333669627752082012-11-24T21:36:00.000-08:002012-11-25T15:18:13.360-08:00The Truth Of It<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtZEaORu9B9qxdn-k7_DWTW4S342aq82Ob2vBaPIjHfrRIqME8OJRjjKxdDYeMGGQDnwRH8eTpI34-c4XIs18i7at1gGZJCCrFygmiiLIWCg380u__uK2ggk2fbkLLl1Q2PscdDsmihBel/s1600/IMG_4264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtZEaORu9B9qxdn-k7_DWTW4S342aq82Ob2vBaPIjHfrRIqME8OJRjjKxdDYeMGGQDnwRH8eTpI34-c4XIs18i7at1gGZJCCrFygmiiLIWCg380u__uK2ggk2fbkLLl1Q2PscdDsmihBel/s320/IMG_4264.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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It is the mystery. It is the beauty. It is the love. <br />
That is God! <br />
Not the belief. Not the theology. Not the doctrine.EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-56114189809231235312012-11-12T13:42:00.000-08:002012-11-12T13:52:13.843-08:00The evolving complexity dysfunction<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3n0adNdcUkbg-elsQpCpiE6snJxwRy5zjLW2Pl0_BYLZFr2nc3f3Em0zW0IRMb91wc1XP6ASbODLwTxN1R_3QXrTGlOzELVEOreml4Ftwx_3Zez5klML9ZcK-d0FLsT2L_6RSoU8BllhR/s1600-h/simplified+maps.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414790310232398034" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3n0adNdcUkbg-elsQpCpiE6snJxwRy5zjLW2Pl0_BYLZFr2nc3f3Em0zW0IRMb91wc1XP6ASbODLwTxN1R_3QXrTGlOzELVEOreml4Ftwx_3Zez5klML9ZcK-d0FLsT2L_6RSoU8BllhR/s400/simplified+maps.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 254px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
What is a Global Positioning System? Precision in timing, leading to accuracy in position, leading to display of location information, matching reality.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
What is a map. A simplified scaled down representation of geographical reality. What if we scale it back up again? What have we gained? What have we lost? We have re-gained complexity, we have lost simplicity. We will have re-gained detail, and lost an easier to recognize lay of the land. The solution to this is found in a scalable map of lesser of greater detail on your GPS. But this evolving complexity dysfunction bleeds over into other tools we use. Take paper maps for instance. You may make the map of simple detail, or heavier detail, but they cannot be scalable, their nature being paper. The more detail they have, the less functional they are for the average citizen. Paper maps are loosing the evolutionary race to electronics. But electronics are more complex to use and maintain. Seniors are befuddled, the young enthralled. Heads-up displays are taking us closer to the complexity of reality by adding layers of information on top of reality. Is this truly helpful? Yes, to a point and for some purposes, but when does the tool overwhelm; when does the information become dysfunctional? Texting while driving is the first clue we have. Death by texting is a very real - reality. Overwhelming information can kill. We are reaching our limits to deal with it, in some areas. Perhaps a simple map of less detail works better in some cases than that which we have recently wrought.<br />
<br />
I think in the area of evolving complexity dysfunction we will find other areas that fit into this scenario sooner rather than later. One that strikes me is the fragility of the general infrastructure. That, to me, is the greatest threat to civilization as we know it. We rely on it too much, necessarily so. There are things that can take it out, and we are not prepared. A perfect solar super-storm. An atmospheric nuclear blast. God knows what else. If any major part of our infrastructure is taken out for any length of time, recovery may not be possible. Forget the gun. I suggest you buy a case or two of pork and beans, a portable water filter, and a paper map. <br />
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<br />EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-78361948770465292742012-11-12T12:43:00.000-08:002012-11-12T12:43:00.763-08:00Chasing Crows<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwW7_2boC6UvGqqCNYVTj4oqbEyoFOUq-EN22mwAxh2_TsaLe1BImnkvAWamgxHC1D0Qyf8_6de5YSbMvWKaZmt1arV0D4b37IYM4BcSmScUC_aWtlSDjfLa9N9YqIyXNj7hC7W1gkNTdd/s1600/Crows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwW7_2boC6UvGqqCNYVTj4oqbEyoFOUq-EN22mwAxh2_TsaLe1BImnkvAWamgxHC1D0Qyf8_6de5YSbMvWKaZmt1arV0D4b37IYM4BcSmScUC_aWtlSDjfLa9N9YqIyXNj7hC7W1gkNTdd/s320/Crows.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<br />
A murder and a dying dog coyote in the woods~<br />
<br />
<br />
Sometimes I am the greatest recipient of my own hides. Sometimes what things were when I was there rarely occur again. Sometimes the cachers who came did not do the same things to achieve the same results as I had hoped they might. But people vary. Things change. The world is a dynamic place. It is its nature.<br />
<br />
This is a story of crows. It is also a story how a box alone is not the thing meant to be found. But boxes are easy. People have schedules to keep, jobs and families to care for. This is also a story of how different from us crows really are. I am no expert on crows or people but how we vary in how we go about life is obvious and stunning.<br />
<br />
For several years I had noticed flights, gatherings, of crows over my house every evening as the day grew dim. I grew in curious fascination of this. I wished to learn where they were headed and why. I began to mark a waypoint every time I had my GPS with me and I saw a group of crows fly overhead. A pattern developed which was of course the same as what I visually observed. Southwest to northeast. But now I had some degree of mapping to plot out a general heading and possible destinations. I decided it was time for the chase.<br />
<br />
Dusk began to draw near. I kept one eye on the crows above and one eye on my gps and it’s mapping. Up the hill out of Mill Creek I went. Out on Seattle Hill road I noticed the crows dropping out of their flight. Dipping and swooping, cartwheels and twists to the ground, so I pulled over. There was a pond in a construction area where they were putting in a new development. This unlikely place is where the crows were gathering. Now I notice crows are coming in from the southwest, the west, and the east. Most are simply standing around. Many are playing. All are cawing. Some are dive-bombing the few seagulls that are mixed in. I’m seeing a personality developing here. Crows are a swaggerly lot. Playful, verbose, macho, and the obvious, mischievous.<br />
<br />
So I’m thinking “What gives? Surely this is not THE place where they go.” And it was not. What it was, was a primary staging area, much like others far to the North or East, where they gather to make an entrance in force to their nightly roost.<br />
<br />
After about twenty minutes of flights arriving and increased chatter, some of them began to rise. And then more, and more. I went with the first group so as not to loose them. Down Seattle hill road, just as I suspected. And there, out into the farming flats of the Snohomish valley they went. Now you’ve all seen it. Farm fields converted to high yield cottonwood forests. These quick growing woods eventually become your toilet paper. They are trees but lack any strength and often do not make it through the first good blow of weather. Well, there is such a forest here in the valley. And this was to be the roost.<br />
I drive out on a dirt farm road between fields and find the nearest spot to the forest. It is a gate, that says not to trespass and that it belongs to a hunting club or something.<br />
<br />
The day grows dark. I am perhaps nearly a mile from any paved road. It has a very isolated feel to it. Black shadowy crows swarm over the tops of these trees. Some sit on their tops. Others dive-bomb the others. All are causing a great noisy ruckus. Great troops of northern tribe crows arrive, as well as some from the east and west. The numbers have grown into the thousands! It is an amazing thing to witness. It is nearly dark. These crows look like a multitude of shades from hell. Ah, but to add to the atmosphere there are coyotes in the nearby woods and they add their song to the chorus. It is spooky, but not nearly so much as the next night when I come again. I wanted to make sure this gathering occurred on a regular basis, and it certainly seemed to. But this night, replace the coyote’s song with a sound from hell itself. Whether coyote or dying dog, I don’t know. But such a thing made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. I’ve never heard anything like it before. Certainly an anguished sound, almost as if something unnatural were in the throes of labor. If I had to guess, it is what Fen Dweller would sound like, but this was no fantasy and it was close.<br />
<br />
So this is where I planted my cache. I called it A Murder Of Crows, an arcane term for a flock of crows. It is also the name of a story I wrote long ago. I came back several times afterwards, not always seeing the crows, but almost always hearing that thing in the woods. People found my cache, but very few if any bothered to find it at the right time, between dusk and night. Now the lives of crows have it that they roost in fall and winter but in spring they go into a nesting pattern and break from the grouping routine. Thus any cache finds then did not produce results as well.<br />
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So not all caches are for the cache hunters. Sometimes they hold much more meaning for those who plant them. Yes, it is a strange cache and a strange idea… to be out chasing crows. But that’s just me. I just wonder what that thing is out in the woods.EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-76236938160115252242012-07-04T20:59:00.000-07:002012-07-04T21:30:01.798-07:00Immersion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I don’t know how we could have known.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is an immersion into the universe we seek.
A return to knowledge we have never had as human beings. It draws us like fire.
Like love. We know it, and yet we don’t. We wish it’s return, yet we know not
what it is. But it is us, and it knows us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It is a wondrous thing. Each time we find the answer that
solves all the mysteries of the universe, it reveals more questions than the
answer. Each time we stumble and fail, we progress further forward. Each time
we are brave enough to fail, we succeed. Thus it is with the Higgs. A hint of
success but not a complete success, and yet it seems it may reveal much more
than we had ever dreamed it would. Imagine. The void is not empty. Space is full
of potential. And more than that, space is tactile. We float in a dream
dreaming a dream about a dream of reality. And what can one say about that? It
is lovely!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Such is the place where men meet the gods. To achieve a
level where we are not only aware of the universe, but we can now peer into its
workings to such a point where we can see that not only is it profound, it is
infinitely profound. Like Pi. It is infinitely ordered. It is a well of mystery
which we can solve, and when we do it reveals an even deeper mystery. Is it
teaching us? Leading us on by the hand to an ever greater level of
understanding? I think that is the nature of existence. And our destiny as
well. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And what of the gods? Some say there are none, some say
there is but one. I say it is a question that means little due to our lack of
understanding. But here it is, as best as I can put it as I understand it: Why
is God invisible? Why doesn’t he pop up and say here I am? Why doesn’t he help
everyone in need? 1. We don’t understand what we are talking about, and 2. A
good parent teaches the child to be a man. What would you do if you didn’t have
a father? Become the father you wish you had had. Become the ideal! What good
is there in anything but that?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Ah but there I stray again into my own esoteric theology.
Not what I was here to say. What I wish to say is celebrate! Science, religion,
philosophy, divisions we create! They are all the same thing! Celebrate! We
reach for the stars, the gods, the answers! And why? Why! I think inside each of
us knows. We just don’t have the language to state it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-39938960826248547822012-04-29T19:30:00.000-07:002012-07-04T21:26:54.053-07:00Editorial- What is God<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Editorial- What is God.</div>
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Scientists- well, some of them anyway- argue there is no God. They feel they have shown there is no need for God, so there isn't one. They say the universe can generate, even must generate on it's own. I have a few arguments against some of that, but that is not my point here. How we define God is.<br />
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Atheists, a cynical lot, have taken up the religion of "no-god". Really more cultural and political than theological, but not always. Frankly I think agnosticism makes sense, but atheism...not so much. Agnosticism says "Not sure", atheism say "There isn't". You can't prove a negative so they must be claiming fact through belief.<br />
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Believers, are often the defensive flip-side of atheists for the most part, though not always. At least many believers these days seem to be living a religion of cultural defense. Hardly the religion I was brought up in. Really not a religion of faith at all. Just a cultural war. And frankly I never understood why belief would make the difference of salvation anyway. Would God punish me for believing what I thought was true? Right or wrong He would love me anyway, would He not?<br />
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Me? I happen to think we have a weak, quite shallow definition of God. Put simply, we are wrong about what God is. And therein lies the problem. Am I right about my definition? Probably not. Much too simplistic. God is most likely far beyond whatever we can perceive. Hopefully I'm just a smidgen closer.<br />
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Is God The Creator? Yes, I suppose, but that is not what he "is". <br />
Is "He" a correct way to refer to him? No, I don't think so, but we have limited language and limited minds. Forgivable.<br />
Is God outside looking in? No, I think its more like we are inside looking outward. <br />
Are there miracles? A profoundly stupid question. What isn't a miracle? I call the world a mundane miracle, not because it is mundane, but because people generally are. They are too blinded by their everyday life to see the miracle that lies beyond their doorstep.<br />
Does he break his own laws, (in fact, break his miracle), to perform what we call a miracle? God, knows. I don't. I think there is something much more subtle here than we generally can perceive.<br />
Does God actively engage in our lives? Again, I think we are thinking too anthropomorphically. I think the better way to view this is in terms of connections with the sacred. The greater we connect, the greater the connection; much the same as virtue is its own reward.<br />
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So what "is" God? Or rather what do I think the better definition of "God" might be? Well, "All". Everything. We live in God. Frankly I don't see how anything can exist outside of God. If God exists, existence can only be made up of his substance. How could it be otherwise? <br />
Does this mean we are God? Hardly. Though we are made of the essence of God, just as we are and every element in our bodies are made of the essence of stars and novas and supernovas. <br />
Are the scientists of a certain view wrong? Only in their limited range of vision. If you view God as something other, or outside, separate, no matter who or what you are, scientist or preacher, you've limited your options significantly, and limited God. You've made God in our image.<br />
What if there is no God? Well, there is the question of can something come from nothing, or better put, can existence come from non-existence? Scientist say yes. But what if you operate from outside of space and time. A non-place of absolute non-existence. A profound nothing, nowhere, not! No energy, no laws, no quantum physics, no vacuum, no void. This may have in fact never existed. Perhaps it always was. In my mind a close definition of God.<br />
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Einstein is often slighted for his use of the word "God", and his views on cosmic religion. I think he referred to himself as a religious agnostic, or some such thing. I guess I'd refer to myself as a non-religious believer, but religious agnostic would work just as well. Einstein, and a few other scientists believe they see, not a god, but a profound sacredness in the cosmos. A beauty and elegance in the math. An impossibility in the physics. One that connects all things. One that has created (or is) a set of conditions whereby if one little inkling of a variant were introduced -in any number of things-, nothing could exist. If I were a good writer and took the time I would list a few of these things. Believe me, they are there and they are an amazement! If one factor were changed just the smallest bit stars never would have been created. If changed the other way, they would have lasted a very short time. How can conditions be so perfect? The physics so harmonious?<br />
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So yes, I think there is a God, and no because I think the term too limited and locked into our own image. He is much more than that. A profound inherent sacredness in the universe I think is closer to the truth. And this sacredness is the basis for all there is. This is what we can experience; that profound inherent sacredness. This is what we can and do connect with on occasion. Einstein did not believe in God, but he did recognize this profundity that he saw in much of his work, and realized that there was something there that was sacred at the most fundamental level of all existence. I recognize that too. That to me "is" God.EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-4793042167863665072012-01-27T17:45:00.000-08:002012-01-27T17:54:21.637-08:00A World of Dust<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<p>A World of Dust</p>
<p>These are the days when angels whisper, “This is a world of dust.”</p>
<p>Here light and darkness consume each other; fade into each other; and drain into a hidden place. Here entropy rules the day; the great leveler, the third hand of Shiva, the destroyer of worlds. It has gripped our throats and slowly squeezes our life away like the dark night overthrows the day. </p>
<p>Order rules no more! The laws bit by bit break. Water and earth become brown, white and black – gray. The physics of the world eats its self. No more do the old bonds hold. Chaos takes center stage where ordered distinction once held court. How is it the universe comes apart?</P>
<P>First a frayed thread, then a seam, the garment falls into dust at our feet. Time is over-ruled, place looses meaning.</P>
<P>All the world, all the universe, see the coming of this dark night of death, this Passover where Lamb’s blood will save none. From one end to the other it comes, advancing on all there is. It is a lost brother, a twin, come to claim his place after a long and arduous Odyssey to strange and unknown lands. Dark matter returns.</p>
<P>The symmetry is breaking, no longer us and him, no longer a separate peace. Now only the peace of half-darkness, half-being , no being at all. It creeps across the galaxies, a plague, a cloud of dust, snuffing out their lights, their distinctions, their swirl of life. We see them blink into a smothering extinction, and it comes. It comes to choke us as well. We smell the first of it. The dark stench of nothingness.</P>
<P>We merge our differences, our pluses and minuses, our is’s and opposites, whatever that may be. The particle and lost anti-particle, the polar opposites, join to become…what? A dust of no distinction. The differences erased, distinctions now forever denied, the mundane miracle we knew and lived as life but too oft ignored, evaporates before our eyes. It is to be no more. Such a shame.</p>
<P>Dark matter creeps across space and time and we haven’t even known what it is, if it was even really there, but now we know. Now we fear.</p>
<P>Where have you been my dark brother? What things have you seen? Did you live as we did? A mundane miracle revealed? Once we were one, joined at the hip before our separate ways we went. Now we re-unite with no great love and become one again. Two joined brothers bound in a struggle to destroy the other and in doing so destroy themselves as well. Ahh, it was bound to be I suppose. Opposites attract. But for that while…, that brief while, that while of eons, it was a miracle! And God did rule in his proper place. Don’t you agree?</p>
EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-68433999025606390352011-09-23T16:19:00.000-07:002012-01-25T08:47:23.899-08:00A Parliament of Winds, A Congress of Tides<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCle5gNHhFksC_PI0bnf-kWx4xWhkcNNbwQqfXJcUuYc_KIOKUhvpwva0SWm4tyFHR5j7ZDd4ScxsYsrckaOJWmMUUgxpGXUYgFBvD-FIMgOVdRA9FGeUJ8sv9YiY8MFPapx6BPLY7BUfZ/s1600/skagit+delta+woodpecker.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 289px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCle5gNHhFksC_PI0bnf-kWx4xWhkcNNbwQqfXJcUuYc_KIOKUhvpwva0SWm4tyFHR5j7ZDd4ScxsYsrckaOJWmMUUgxpGXUYgFBvD-FIMgOVdRA9FGeUJ8sv9YiY8MFPapx6BPLY7BUfZ/s400/skagit+delta+woodpecker.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655709791785357810" /></a><br />The Skagit Delta is a place of dikes and river sloughs, farmer's fields and corn stalks, scrub, trees, muck, willows and catails, wind and rain, gray clouds and snow geese, herons, merlins, red-tail hawks and eagles, seagulls and seals and sapsuckers, duck-hunters and birders and game wardens, floods and ancient logs. It is a secret place where river meets saltwater, sand meets muck, land meets water, current meets tide, and it is difficult to tell here which of these are which, for they are so intermingled; one does not exist seperate from the other. It is like the world dance of chaos and order, they dance the same dance, at times they seem to unite, to blend, to throw off their distinctions and become one.<br /><br />Scientists have long sought after the ghostly neutrino. Generated in the very heart of the sun it can pass through the Earth as easily as a beam of light through a pane of glass. The question has been: does it have zero mass or some infintesimally small degree of mass? The current thought is that it has phases or "species" of which there are three; two of no mass, one of mass. <br /><br />It is a binary world of oft muddied waters. And so it is with our lives; we are the uncertain neutrino, uncertain of whether we matter or not, and what our purpose always is, we are the blend of chaos and order, a mingled identity, blown about by a parliament of winds, washed here and there by a congress of tides.EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-50023890708355894152011-09-20T19:08:00.001-07:002011-09-20T19:18:34.189-07:00Now Pipes the Bitter Wind<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfI3nA4kHvgg6xiX9aM6se_clSoJPyTP85sSY_BigsC1GfRD1oh7AoR7VKie-iAadWYW1VLtAsY7v9P6-kFzcNGrvyAdjl3lzfLX3oOJZG_DS9MzthI1-eqt38d3aQl3rgEwflZ7blcBt2/s1600/sappho.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 372px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfI3nA4kHvgg6xiX9aM6se_clSoJPyTP85sSY_BigsC1GfRD1oh7AoR7VKie-iAadWYW1VLtAsY7v9P6-kFzcNGrvyAdjl3lzfLX3oOJZG_DS9MzthI1-eqt38d3aQl3rgEwflZ7blcBt2/s400/sappho.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654629312138108354" /></a><br />O Sappho, thy love of beauty is the beauty of thy love.<br />With wine-dark seas for eyes and soft sea breeze for hair<br />Your smile is the golden sunrise, warm, fresh, and, fair.<br />No flower seeks a need,<br /> No sparrow sings its chorus with thought of varied paths;<br />They simply are for Love’s sake,<br />Devoted as to music is the flute’s reed.<br />Thy passions are divinely guided,<br />Their expressions sound and fair.<br />Not a single drop of morning dew outlasts the noonday sun;<br />But your words of love so pleasing are yet but two and a half millennia young.<br /><br />Now pipes the bitter wind! Love so frail a thing!<br />Where are the gods above? Where the hope? The wisdom of days?<br />On the far horizon an angry star burns! The seas will soon hide it,<br />But not quench it.<br />The sins and shame of Man prevails,<br />But it is a thing that would kill itself. Nothing will remain.<br />Perhaps a seed has hid itself away… perhaps it will grow with the spring rains<br />And bloom again someday.<br />And perhaps a bee as well; hidden for a time beneath the sheltering ground;<br />It will rise and find its way to the bloom, and thereupon will be a world again!<br />The sunlight will mean something, and the moon as well!<br />No longer just an angry star bent upon exposing us for what we are.<br />The seas will freshen, new winds will blow… no longer pipes a bitter wind,<br />Love will find its way again.<br />I once knew a maid who sang a song. Her gentle tune moved me so.<br />Her lyrics spoke so true; I could not turn away!<br />Her beauty grew.<br />And now with all the harm and hate it is her that comes to mind.<br />Perhaps these harsh unspeakable times shall be sang to the sweetest of tunes;<br />The seed and flower, butterfly and moon; <br />and the wind will pipe a less bitter tune.<br />And Sappho rule the heart again.<br />EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-70532846221526709342010-10-17T18:34:00.000-07:002011-03-10T17:58:19.150-08:00Long ago our fathers said<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihEuHgBzgryujXgiMjK6VFV5ZDg5Ub78ko5sSIDN7ktyfWRDXGPsS-OGXCoFETsXUHAhEYv86UmxitAR_EDszWs5T-SS3ssGbzf9WOYhMzsWabXZMJOU2IZvstJKkCFCbWHJfCyyLQwXzH/s1600/Hopi-Women.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 307px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihEuHgBzgryujXgiMjK6VFV5ZDg5Ub78ko5sSIDN7ktyfWRDXGPsS-OGXCoFETsXUHAhEYv86UmxitAR_EDszWs5T-SS3ssGbzf9WOYhMzsWabXZMJOU2IZvstJKkCFCbWHJfCyyLQwXzH/s400/Hopi-Women.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529202709130008866" /></a><br />We have heard of things like this; stories told of past worlds and worlds to come. <br />Stories of moon dying...suns giving birth to other suns.<br />We sit. We watch and wonder what this is.<br />We know it is all we can do. Watch and wait and wonder. <br />What will the world become? What will remain?<br />Will the way of the fathers be regained?<br /><br />With each new sun a new wind blows. It whispers secrets not quite heard.<br />Children's voices; a woman's wail; a chant sacred and beautiful.<br />My friends...we talk, low and still. Not wanting to disturb the works of creation.<br />A peace encircles us, knowing we are witnesses, the criers of myths to come.<br />We are in the womb. And when we come forth, it shall be born from us.<br />A retelling of truth.<br /><br />The day declines, but in the eventide more and more distant suns are born.<br />So many suns for the world. <br />We long for the true night to return when no more suns are born. <br />My sisters whisper, "When will it end? What will ever be again?"<br />A cooler breeze blows. The thunder of worlds cease. <br />The last colors of the day fades away. Now, only the stars remain. <br />My sisters and I gather our blankets about us, and shelter together against the night, and follow where dreams are meant to go.EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-38169162141793382692010-02-14T09:17:00.000-08:002010-02-14T09:20:11.703-08:00Beneath a Porcelain Sky<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9DEidDC20cPScKr6K3gYs9miAcfmhoqhzCewAZop4drSMqyARbkH-DZV6l0r9u8KIYMlLMNDoNEMScBwtBfSuMEAw7aH3GK8lEFnq-VlWJ6A0SF1BdXsq5fOvrt2Tzkwl82r1SLsL8_BY/s1600-h/GapTopView.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9DEidDC20cPScKr6K3gYs9miAcfmhoqhzCewAZop4drSMqyARbkH-DZV6l0r9u8KIYMlLMNDoNEMScBwtBfSuMEAw7aH3GK8lEFnq-VlWJ6A0SF1BdXsq5fOvrt2Tzkwl82r1SLsL8_BY/s400/GapTopView.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438149926612939522" /></a><br /><br />Beneath a porcelain sky, wintry white and blue and steely gray, the Earth holds its beauty tight resisting the slow decay of man’s advance across what was there and what now remains. The nearby mountains a patchwork, white snow fields lay bare what is bare next to wintergreen stands of reprieved timber. And in that patchwork I see the homeless run for shelter into another’s territory; they become densely compacted as surely as do we ourselves. Death looms in such a plot of race for survival. I blame no one, but we are a short-sighted lot. We are employed to weave a noose with which to hang ourselves. Ah, but it pays the bills for now, and what the future brings is the future’s concerns. There are solutions, but none which we are ready to employ. For now it is fodder for the politician. The problem is there, but the spin is an untruth stretched to a lie. But what can I do? I walk the dikes, paddle the river, climb the hills, explore the tidelands. It is my own soul I seek to find. Time enough for that at least. Perhaps it helps in some small way, but it gives meaning to me. I am my larger self. I become what I always was and will be. Connected. A piece of the whole. In the end we will all know this, when we touch the larger shore. But what a shame to see this Earthy beauty fade. It skin grows gray. It is wrinkled, it’s eyes become pools of clouds. It's voice a mere tremor, shaky and faint. Perhaps it has finished its task. Perhaps I have nearly finished mine as well.EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-74399573260585946412009-10-14T18:04:00.000-07:002009-10-14T20:37:00.158-07:00Vaux's Swifts<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgONrvsZxIwTBxpLVp8E4Fnfd01VmZCfT_u7-6RvnG-wxxpbxEY36qTP-07XZSOtha4IS4p0UAnAQWWU1aZRmiqrKL1KJkH_64527D69-nz8SDr3R01N_-EHbChn4SUThMt-ybHLFnVTiR6/s1600-h/Swifts.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgONrvsZxIwTBxpLVp8E4Fnfd01VmZCfT_u7-6RvnG-wxxpbxEY36qTP-07XZSOtha4IS4p0UAnAQWWU1aZRmiqrKL1KJkH_64527D69-nz8SDr3R01N_-EHbChn4SUThMt-ybHLFnVTiR6/s400/Swifts.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392626925433328226" /></a><br /><br />Swifts! What a fascinating bird they are. They take flight at dawn and remain aloft until sunset. They cannot perch. They fly faster than any other bird in a straight, powered flight at a top speed of 105mph. They may fly 500 miles from their nest before returning. From a distance they appear to be swallows to the untrained eye, but are vastly different. They fly higher, faster, at greater distances and their closest relative is the hummingbird. Close up they may look like a Batman version of a bird. Their eyes are large and sunken, protected by a baffle of feathers to the fore, to protect their eyes against being hit by the insects they eat. At night they gather together and cling to vertical surfaces like bats do on cave ceilings.<br /><br />There are two types of swifts that visit our area, the pacific northwest; the Black Swift and the Vaux's Swift. The Black Swift nests and roosts behind waterfalls, and the Vaux's Swift nests and roosts in upright hollow snags and chimneys. In both these cases the conditions must be just right. <br /><br />The Black Swift may best describe why these environments are musts for nesting and roosting. The Black Swift is rather rare in our area. A nest has never been found in Washington. What is needed is a waterfall that provides room behind the waterfall, for obvious reasons, a surface that provides enough grip or voids the be able to cling for both birds and nests. The waterfall should face west to catch the sun at sunset. The reason for this is that the adults are on the wing all day catching insects. During this time the young is receiving no food. The waterfall provides the coolness to put the young into torpor, a half-hibernation state. The late sun brings them out of this state to feed when the adults return from the days feeding. Their nests are made of moss and mud, and unlike the Vaux's, there may be several nests to a waterfall.<br /><br />The Vaux's Swift, on the other hand, may have a gathering of 21,000 birds in a chimney at a time, but there is only ever one nest per chimney. Frank Wagner Elementary School in Monroe, Wa, the place where I was introduced to the swifts this year had around 12,000 birds at it peak. When I got there they had dwindled down to around 2000 birds a night. Sumas Old Custom House is another great spot to watch them. To satisfy the roosting habits of the Vaux's the chimney needs to have a rough surface, (or seams), such as old brick. It needs to not be in use as an active chimney. It cannot have an opening at the bottom such as the tulip chimney in Mt Vernon, but only an entrance at the top. <br /><br />The gathering begins about an hour before sunset. You begin seeing them at height, few in number at first, then more and more. You will see them start to swirl in a large cloud of birds, then disperse, and swirl again. The closer to sunset you get the larger in number they become, and more and more birds will make practice dives at the chimney, none going in. Again, they will gather, go into a great swirling cloud and suddenly disperse. Suddenly they will be nowhere in sight, and again, they will be. Perhaps 15-20 minutes before sunset on or two will drop into the chimney. At sunset they will make a great swirl like a black dust-devil and the first group will drop in. Ten minutes after sunset the greatest grouping will swirl into what looks like a black tornado, like something out of the Wizard of Oz, and it will look like they are being vacuumed into the void. A truly amazing sight!! Twenty minutes after sunset and the last few stragglers will finally flutter down into the roost.<br /><br />Inside they cling to the walls and the backs of others, like a great thick build-up of soot. And there they stay until sometime around dawn where they climb back up the walls, and not having the ability to perch, they drop off the edge of the lip, catch the air in their wings, and off they go for a full days flight.<br /><br />How cool is that?EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7449949326681441495.post-53639733383577770172009-09-18T13:57:00.000-07:002019-03-17T09:35:52.157-07:00Occam's Razor<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ87hUQSUE9pqLIwbdEZeUFYOiNOcULaKjKz2D6_5DpDh6gGgay6i_DwE3rFPS03o400LSZQQoD9hyJVSX3al-zW6DgkNYvCSoL7KtQHxUmOGLOYjZrVhTHUtMjAGsNuBCGtGKa5-x8JeD/s1600-h/windmills.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382967184341040146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ87hUQSUE9pqLIwbdEZeUFYOiNOcULaKjKz2D6_5DpDh6gGgay6i_DwE3rFPS03o400LSZQQoD9hyJVSX3al-zW6DgkNYvCSoL7KtQHxUmOGLOYjZrVhTHUtMjAGsNuBCGtGKa5-x8JeD/s400/windmills.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 387px;" /></a><br />
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Occam's Razor put simply states: "when you have two competing theories that make exactly the same predictions, the simpler one is the better."<br />
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So, the most predominate theory today to explain the impossible knife-edge odds of the cosmological constant being what it is, and for the universe and life to exist as it does, is the Multiverse theory. A multitude of universes exist, all with differing physical laws to cover the gamut of chances that one so finely tuned as ours could exists.<br />
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How does this stack up against a theory of God's existence? I really don't see how God is any more complex a theory than an explanation of multiverses where all existences must exist.<br />
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First of all, if you have a case such as our universe where it is "so" finely-tuned, with the incredible odds, then bizarre events with much more favorable odds than the cosmological constant should exist as well. Goodness, what events would those be? Dream up just about anything and the odds would be more favorable. How about something like maybe anti-gravity rules the universe every second Tuesday of the month (move over Microsoft), or everything thing starts spinning backwards for no reason at all, or something really simple like atomic bonds no longer bond.<br />
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Or God.<br />
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The point is which is the simpler explanation? The simpler explanation is not always correct, but it is the course suggested by Occam's Razor. Certainly the route of the scientist is to follow the empirical, I can understand that, and there may seem to be not much empirical about God (I may disagree) but what do we have in hand to show proof of a multiverse? It could be an explanation. That's it. The same could be said of God.<br />
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For a multiverse to exist, than it must also be that the timeline of our lives radiate out with every passing moment in all directions, and every choice, breath, and flutter of an atom, creates a new time-line, and a new reality, a new you, a new world, that exists from that moment on along with all other possible moments. Is this some how more acceptable or more likely than God? <br />
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It seems to me that in a universe as ours where there is such precision, and order, where there is not otherwise an array of bizarre events that baffle the mind, "God", of some sort, is the better explanation. An intelligent cosmos. If you wish, "Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence." Frankly, I think there is evidence for God or some form of an intelligent cosmos. We recognize this evidence when we are awed by the interconnectedness, the order, the odds that all of this presents. (Please, I am in no way speaking of the intelligent design movement [which isn't])<br />
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Listen. It has taken the likes of history's greatest minds and scientists to figure out how small portions of the universe works! They ought to be the first to understand that they are the students of a greater mind, or entity if you will. There is a reason why there is beauty and elegance in a working successful equation. Who is this professor above all? I don't quite know, but I think we would do well to listen, and learn the lesson plan, and understand that the structure of the cosmos is a whole lot smarter than us.EraSeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16065373647752158412noreply@blogger.com0