Tuesday, December 8, 2015

A Dead Lion with a Beehive in It




First, you gotta know about Samson, judge of Israel in the Old Testament of the Holy Bible, the Christian sacred text.  As a Nazarite, chosen of God, he was expected to remain unshaven, celibate, and righteous, and to avoid alcohol, lust and sin. 
 
He wasn’t very good at it.

But he did have super strength given to him by God, represented by his long hair.

He wasn’t a very good Nazarite because he had a girlfriend, a philistine girlfriend who got him drunk. And he was probably a proud swaggart*, as well. One night he come home to the town where he stayed and the gates were locked against him.  He tore them out, carried them up the road a few miles, and left them standing there.  Once he killed a thousand soldiers with his bare hands and a donkey’s jawbone. In the end, his girlfriend betrayed him, his long hair was cut; he was captured, tortured, blinded, and set to push a millwheel. In the end, he was taken into the public temple, where all the people had come to see him tormented, and he pulled it down on top of them all, including himself. 

Well, one time Samson killed a lion and later saw the carcass with a hive of bees in it.  He made up a riddle, went into a local tavern and bet thirty guys a suit of clothes each that they couldn’t solve the riddle: "Out of the eater, something to eat; out of the strong, something sweet" (Judges 14:14). Delilah, that philistine girl, got him drunk, wheedled out the answer and sold it to the guys in the tavern. When Samson came, they gave him the answer and he had to pay up.  He went outside and killed thirty other guys, and took their clothes, the dead guys, to pay his bet. 

The point is, Samson had seen a dead lion with a beehive in it.

Then you gotta know about Full English.  Full English, a local Austin business, serves coffee and breakfast all day every day, sells Shepherd’s Pie to take home and microwave and serves about fifteen tables in a cafĂ© of bare painted cinderblock walls decorated with unique interpretations of the Union Jack, rainbows and penguins and combinations thereof.  A brief William Blake manifesto decorates a quarter of one wall and paintings, collages, and needlepoint grid the space in a Mondrian of color and form.  Everything looks found; clean, sturdy, functional and delighting, but scrounged, random—found. A nominal Full English comes with a link and a half of sausage, a moderate slab of English bacon (ham), a soft fried egg, two wedges toast, mushrooms and a slice of tomato. With a solid, simple, no-fancy-name coffee that is a regal breakfast, and while not vegan (such options are available), it is especially savory.

Before your order arrives, you are given a small round tin.  In the tin sits a laminated paper heart patched out of a pastel Union Jack with a black block-letter order-number for the wait staff to find your table. The card stands up, weighted by a small plastic clothespin that pulls the heart down into the tin.  The edge of the tin has a flat ring around the inside that is narrower than the card heart which, as a result, rocks in the mouth of the can, its edge balancing on the flat ring’s edge. The tin itself is covered in a paper label, dark green and gold.  The can once contained Lyles Refiner’s Syrup, partially (not 100%?) inverted (so they set the cans on the side? Is it shelved at a thirty-degree angle to allow sediment to settle out over the six to eight months it would take?) refiner’s (do these guys need a special syrup? Does it have some industrial use?) syrup for, and I quote, “sticky puds” (yeah, I know that means puddings, but I know what else it means, too).  And what do the executives at Lyles Refiner’s Syrup Inc. decide is the perfect symbol of their product, the mysteriously canted discrete use sweetener of human buttons, there, on the side of the can, on table after table reproduced in gold with green lines, its feline carcass reclined beneath a cloud of bees?

A dead lion with a beehive in it.

*a swaggering braggart

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

OMG Guess What I Just Learned!

One sentence: so, here i am in the middle of trying to rehang one of my artworks, a story about a Hindu horse, when, as ADHD demands, i am digging through my toolbox looking for my tools, whisper-cursing my short term memory because i cannot find the piece of chain that was in my hands thirty seconds ago, returning a straight clawed hammer into the nether of the toolbox and replacing the tray, of the toolbox, back into the toolbox shell, when i suddenly realize that, like the tool box in the Adobe Photoshop program, in which i often find me whisper-cursing myself because i must continually 'put down' a 'tool' and then 'pick up' the next in a manner that parallels what i should be doing in my analog toolbox in the garage 1.0, where i keep my tools, mainly that in the program i must move the cursor to click a specific tool, then use the cursor to place and execute the purpose of the tool, then move the cursor back into a new tool to drop the previous tool; i can't leave these tools out, and if i will do the same in the garage, i needn't whisper-curse myself as a foolish forgetful old man.*


*reading infinite jest1

1 if you know, you know you know; if you don't know, you don't know you don't know.

Monday, September 28, 2015

I Know My Cat has Secrets!

You know what I mean! 

Jack Segundus Bakery Mauser, tuxedo and lout.  Friendly enough when it's quiet, but keeps to himself most the time.  I feed this cat everyday and I carry out his poop and every time I open the garage door he freaks out like he's guilty and runs.

I never find anything wrong.

It's like he has a secret agenda that, God Forbid! I should know about. I'm just taking out the laundry and I open the door--no, not even open--begin to become conscious of the desire to take hold of the door handle and he senses it.  By the time I have come into contact with the door handle and actually begun to rotate the handle he is diving through the cat door and colliding with me and the pantry. If I do get it open before he notices, he turns himself inside out trying to get by me without getting close to me.  I just stand their and watch his imitation of satanic possession until physics takes back over, his feet grab the floor and he disappears in a cloud of shed hair.

I don't know what he wants to hide, what secret mystery informs his soul with purpose or why that purpose seems so fraught with peril. Jack ain't talking.

Jokes on him though; I don't really care.

Monday, August 31, 2015

Beg the Question

So, the Goldilocks zone is just right for human life.  If we were a little closer to the sun, or a little farther, we wouldn't be here.  The earth is in the exact right place for a species like us to exist. Or, how can you look at a tree and not believe in God? Funny how both scientists and religious believers both make an apparent assumption that existence is here to produce us. I think this is a very egocentric idea, and we come by it honestly, as we can never not be in ourselves.  But what if the Universe is unaware of us, of humanity and its consciousness.

The universe is not perfect for us.  We are what happens when a universe like this one exists! The conditions were here before we were.  We are a result, not an aim. This is why we have to create meaning in our lives; it is why we seek answers with religions, philosophy and science.  So, how do we decide how we should treat one another? If there is no right or wrong except in the imagination of human consciousness, no God to set us up here, no Universe that has a plan?

Treat others the way you wish to be treated. If you want your life to be your own, then others lives should be their own as well.  Now, lying, cheating, stealing, killing, are wrong not because some immutable quality of the Universe requires it, but because it is what I want for myself.  All I have to do is recognize that my intrinsic value is not greater than any others; that like me, others are as trapped inside of themselves as I am in me.

If we intend to evolve, we must realize that others do exist, just as I do. None are evil, bad, good, righteous, in and of themselves, they only perform evil, bad, good or righteous acts. So, we have to decide what are positive and negative actions.  I submit that the degree to which actions ensure the rights of others to do as they choose, and the degree to which they do not infringe on the rights of others is the measure of "good."

Live accordingly.

Thursday, August 27, 2015

So, I am an Athiest

I am an athiest.
I do not worship Satan.
I do not  worship God, a god, or gods.
I do not worship.

I do strive, everyday, to create happiness for myself and others, to live responsibly to my fellow humans, and to enrich the opportunities of others to express their freedom as human beings.
I believe that human society should be a contract between all humanity ensuring the natural rights of every man, universal rights generating from the right to live, to be free, and to pursue happiness.  I use as my model, the Constitution of the United States, Universal Bill of Rights, and Natural Law as defined by Locke, like "we all heard in school."

I have been called Christian. At least three close friends, who claim personal experience with Jesus Christ, insist that I am Christian because we share values. I refuse the title since I have no personal relationship with Christ, other than having lived long after him and respecting whoever he was to have inspired the evolutionary leap to altruism from selfish survival.  I do not lie, cheat, steal or kill.  I help the poor, the sick and the needy. I do not proselytize but try to live a happy and productive life as an example. I believe in mercy rather than vengeance, kindness over brutality, etc.  These are not just Christian values, they are Human values.  

Many Christians credit their God for their morality, for the righteousness of humanity.  I don't need a god to make me behave the way I do, though I appreciate the model.  I appreciate the prayers and thoughts of those Christians for my soul as well.  

God or no God, Christian or Atheist, it is our responsibility to be happy and to raise others to what happiness we may.

Friday, August 7, 2015

The Freedom Paradox

I claim freedom of choice based on my respect of others to freedom of choice as well; the Golden Rule. One's freedom ends where it infringes on the freedoms of others, but there are levels.

Smokers have a responsibility to protect my freedom from the risks of tobacco.  I support non-smoking areas, particularly enclosed facilities like stadiums and restaurants.  I expect smokers to stand upwind out of doors. But, I don't just glibly expect smokers to stay fifteen feet from doors and busstops.  This seems to border on infringement of their rights.I expect my government and society to tell me the truth about the risks of smoking so that I can make an informed decision.  I expect smokers to put their finished buts in a garbagecan or wastebasket, but I fully support their right to risk their own health and resources if they so choose.

My society has a responsibility to manage the community and create laws to facilitate the mutual pursuit of choice.These laws should be determined through analysis of risk, balancing benefit and restriction, enforced fairly and consistently thus freeing me to choose my behaviors knowing of possible consequences.  If I drive 40 mph in a 35 zone, I should expect to be stopped and ticketed by police. I should be able to have confidence that these laws are enacted to protect me while avoiding restriction on my freedom.

Others have a responsibility to protect and respect my right to be alive or not. I choose to live or not live unless taken by disease or accident.  I want the right to choose my own life, I must respect the right of others to choose their own lives.  When my pursuit of happiness involves taking the right to live of another into my own will, I am wrong.

Freedom self regulates.  My freedom ends where yours begins, and it goes both ways.

Thursday, August 6, 2015

So That Happened....

If you get stung by a bee on the face, your face will swell up.  This has nothing to do with any allergy, but with being, apparently, a human.

Last Wednesday afternoon, around six oclock, i filled the water pail outside to water the plants in my yard that get beat up by the sun.  This spring, a hive of bees began living in the red ghost on my lawn. In the late afternoons they are distressed by the heat. Occassionally i will mist or spray outside the hive to draw out a little heat. On Wednesday, i tipped the can over the top of the ghost to cool it as i walked out to water my lantana.  An angry bee flew up, bounced around my face and landed and the little bastard stung me. About an inch right of my right eye.

7:12 July 29
I reached up and scratched out the stinger after about three or four seconds of shocked disbelief. It felt about the same as a sting anywhere, but alarming so close to my eye.  And it kept burning after the initial sting.  It continued to hurt for a few minutes before i decided i better go check it out in the mirror.  My face, my hands, and my lap were soon itching beyond belief.  My fingers were puffy and stiff with prickly heat itching.  My eye and cheek were swelling like i took a good punch. Shawn was alarmed, and Hunter, my nephew, but i knew i wasn't allergic.  i agreed to send Shawn for Benadryl and lay on the bed assessing. 
9:42 July 29

My right eye and the top of the right cheek, across the tip of my nose to my far brow and back across to the sting was swollen and itched terribly.  A minor stiffness in my neck and throat made me aware of more swelling, but it never became intense enough to make me worry for my breathing. 

9:10 am July 30
I lay down for about an hour and waited for the sensation to subside.  The pain and itching faded to a localized itch around the sting, and itchy allergy eyes. I slept on my face and woke with general swelling in the area of my face that had itched so terribly.  As the next day progressed, my eye swole increasingly fat and glossy, but there was no pain, only the continual awareness of my puffy eyelids touching my glasses and restricting my line of sight.

11:41 am July 30
By evening the swelling had begun to dissipate and by the next morning was only apparent as a not at the sting site.

Leave the bees alone.

Monday, August 3, 2015

What Do You Believe?

As a youth in the Assemblies of God and its program, Royal Rangers, I had to learn how to explain what I believed in.  I was versed in "the sixteen fundamental doctrines of the Assemblies of God". Rather than saying I don't lie, I don't cheat, and I don't steal, I could quantify the principles of my family's Christianity. When I began to identify as an atheist, I had no list of principles to quantify my belief system. So, I set about developing a guiding philosophy that would define my personal beliefs.

What do I believe?

Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them (Matthew 7:12). Christians call this the Golden Rule and it has equivalent sentiments in every known language.  This is at the center of my beliefs. 

I want the right to exist. I must respect the rights of others to exist. My life is my own and no one has the right to take it from me except for myself. I have a responsibility to others to respect their right to choose to exist, or to not exist. God doesn't tell me I can't murder; I want to live! As a result, I must defend the right of others to live; I can't murder.

I want the right to choose my own life. I must respect the rights of others to choose their lives. I want to choose my gender identity, marriage partner, vice or flavor of ice cream without restriction. I have to defend the rights of others to do so as well.

So, when I want to know what is right or wrong, I ask myself, "what would I want for me?"