Musings of a Middle Aged Man

I was born at the cusp of the 'Cultural Decade,' the 1960s, an era of massive cultural shifts. My formative years spanned the 'Me Decade' of the 1970s. Those 20 years witnessed massive social upheaval and the rise of the counterculture that challenged entrenched norms around family, gender, authority, and morality. The old guard had the US entrenched in the deeply immoral Vietnam War, a war lost, taking the shine off the imagined invulnerability of the US Military-Industrial Complex. The youth of the day, tired of being cannon fodder and beholden to the whims of the powerful elite, engaged in the largest, sustained anti-war protests in US history. Their slogans included the iconic "Make love not war,"

It is a human cognitive defect that we call some animals good and put them on a pedestal, with dogs and cats on the highest pedestal, while labeling those we don't like as evil, including rats and roaches, whom we target for annihilation. The warped approach is an offshoot of our obsession with sin, a word that meant missing the mark. It has come to be associated with offending God and is saddled with moral baggage that would see the sinner destined for an eternity in Gehenna as punishment for a finite transgression. Humans are the only beings the God freaks claim have free will, a necessary component in the moral equation without which the knowledge of right or wrong, good or evil cannot exist. This gainsays the Adam and Eve narrative, exposing the Abrahamic deity for the evil bastard it is. Neither Eve nor Adam had a comprehension of good or evil before eating of the tree's fateful fruit. They could not be morally culpable for their act of so-called disobedience. Punishing not only them but saddling every human born since with Original Sin exposes Sky Daddy's dereliction of duty. He should have taught them to navigate life's challenges with integrity rather than punishing the unaware. Sky Daddy failed mud man and rib woman and had the nerve to blame them for his shortcomings.

A jaundiced approach toward divergent cultures is to rate them with reference to their own, which, unsurprisingly, is typically viewed as not only the best culture for all people but the only correct cultural expression. It is a form of jingoism with undercurrents and overtones of racism. It is perfectly normal to compare and contrast an unknown entity against a known quantity with the goal of understanding differences. The problem arises when the unknown, such as cultural norms and practices, are judged with a ruler calibrated

In terms of being a manly man, Crazy Horse was a virtuoso. To the colonizers, he was a bloodthirsty savage standing in the way of white prosperity and of the god-ordained Manifest Destiny. The term was a gimmick, a euphemism masking the horror of genocide and used to justify the forced removal of the indigenous, breaking treaties, military violence, reservation confinement, and the destruction of cultural life. At its core, it was a racist ideology...not surprising in a land where nonwhites were, still are, routinely savaged by individuals and governments.

I assiduously monitor my beliefs, whittling away those that don't stand up to scrutiny and evidence, keeping those that do and adding them to my constitution of true truths...held loosely so they don't twist into a noose. Doing this helps ensure I am not weighed down by the burdens associated with untruths. I revel in the lightness of the freedom that comes with not carrying unnecessary falsehoods. It enables me to channel my thoughts and actions into real realities, which underpins my devotion to a personal policy of truth. In some sense, being beholden...

It is not long after growing out of our layette that we become conscious of who we are, concerned about how we are perceived, and learn to wear the mask likely to show us in rose light when interacting with others. As we mature, those masks multiply commensurately with the number of people we encounter and engage with. The person we are with our parents bears little resemblance to the persona we express around

In human minds, our species, for those willing to acquiesce to the simple, indisputable fact that we are animals, is indomitable; that we are antipodes with respect to all other species with whom we share the grand and glorious planet Earth. That we are animals is hotly disputed by those believing mud man and rib woman are made in the image of a god...further proof we dwell in a special realm a smidge lower than the gods and significantly higher than the nonhuman beings. That imagined separation, an act of arrogance, is an excuse to

Despite being portrayed as wifty, as beings easily distracted by bright, shiny objects, ravens are considered to be in the top 10 of the smartest animals on the planet. Humans set the criteria for measuring intelligence, meaning it is no surprise humans are ranked first on the intelligence scale. Intelligence, for the purposes of the rankings, is understood as the mental or behavioral flexibility of an organism to solve problems occurring in its natural environment, culminating in the appearance of novel solutions not previously part of the animal's normal repertoire. By this arbitrary standard, the Raven people rank sixth

Ever since I broke a fingernail grip and let go of my final, tenuous grasp on a need for an afterlife to assuage my ego, I have felt free as the birds who laugh at the borders they fly over without needing official government documentation. I no longer struggle with apocalyptic visions of the infernal destinations proclaimed in the Abrahamic unHoly Books. I no longer fear an eternity of hellfire and brimstone. Nor do I fear the equally hellish place in the clouds where I would be forced to bow down and praise a megalomaniacal deity for endless days and nights, a chattel slavery marketed as bliss. I can't put a finger on the auspicious moment I accepted the afterlife is a myth designed to manipulate the fearful, only that I have unshackled...

The capacity for love is almost universal in humans, the exceptions being those with mental conditions that are classified as antisocial personality disorders. These include sociopathy and psychopathy. Love began with mammalian attachment when natural selection favored caring for one another. That became the foundation for pair bonding to cooperatively raise offspring. From this evolved romantic love, emerging some 5 million years ago after the split from the Great Apes. It is tied to...

Tis a slapdash court, one with no credibility, that would sentence a person before a guilty verdict was returned by judge or jury. It would be a court compromised of integrity, a court people would not and should not trust. This is the undergirding for the growing concern for a US Supreme Court that appears to be looking for excuses to drive the administration's agenda rather than evidence to support unbiased verdicts in lockstep with the Constitution. It is a concern that should result in questionable judges being relieved of duty, if there is not even a hint of impropriety. The integrity of the court is too important to do otherwise.

If I were to hazard a guess, I would point to the seminal, six-part PBS series, "Joseph Campbell and the Power of Myth," as the key to the postern opening my fascination with religion and its impact on the human psyche, both collective and individual psyches. Raised a fairly strict Catholic, including attending primary and secondary schools named after saints, my exposure to other Christian sects and non-Christian faiths was pert near zero. As all good, by that I mean indoctrinated...

The library of mythology undergirding the Christian religion, known as the Bible, claims in the second book, Exodus, that no man can see God's face and live. In the first book, Genesis, Jacob claims to have seen the face of God. Moses makes the same claim in Exodus. Yet, according to the mythology, both men lived. If Jesus was actually God, as the followers claim, many saw his face with no ill effects. Rather than admit the Bible is not inerrant, the cultists employ a myriad of illogical paralogisms to rationalize away the blatant falsehood. It is Cognitive Dissonance on steroids.

abels are used to quickly identify and communicate meaning efficiently. They help people sort, recognize, remember, and make decisions about what something is, how it should be used, or how it should be understood. Seems benign. So, what's the problem? Labeling is a means of shrinking a complex reality into an easily manageable symbol...that may or may not capture the essence of the labeled item, resulting in confusion. The label 'desert' can be used to describe the golden, shifting sands of the Sahara where vegetation is virtually non-existent, or the Sonoran Desert delineated by the range of the majestic Saguaro reaches toward the skies, or Antarctica, a frozen land that is the largest, driest desert on earth.

ince the publication of my first blog post in September 2011, I have grown increasingly dedicated to my artistic expression via words, photographs, and paintings. I dabbled in all three for many years prior, more as an afterthought, squeezing art in between work, raising my children, and other activities tickling my fancy, including all aspects of soccer from playing to coaching and refereeing, woodworking, knife making, and reading. All but reading slowly faded due to lack of interest or necessity. Grown kids tend to prefer autonomy as they come of age, something a decent parent diligently prepares them for rather than stifling their drive to be independent.

What do a dead snag at Bear's Lodge, an exquisite petroglyph panel in Northern Utah, a saguaro forest with aged beings raising arms skyward, and a short path blanketed with brown, noise-dampening evergreen needles have in common?

There are times in my life when I find it necessary to disaffiliate myself from what has become mistaken for civilization, aka, syphilization. Civilization, by definition, represents an advanced stage of cultural, scientific, and governmental organizations, distinguishing it from more primitive tribal communities. The inherent bias in the definition is self-evident, leading me to believe it has been refined over the years by those who have lost touch with life outside cities. Is it civilized to cram hordes of people into substandard living space for which they pay extortionary fees?

took the lily for a final walk before bedtime, down a short path carpeted with last season's light brown pine needles that muffled by heavy footfalls, through a swarm of mosquito-looking flying insects that did not bite or even alight on my exposed skin. I was shaking off the last dew drop when I realized I had entered a hidden world dense with birdsong in a multitude of voices from all around me. The voices never conflicted or drowned out their neighbors. It was auditory harmony touching something deep in my blood memory. I felt primordial, primeval, pristine. The birds themselves were mere shadows darting through the dense undergrowth, around old snags in the early stages of decay, and swooping between the branches drooping in the shadows.

I was raised in the emotional dark ages under the mantra, "Big boys don't cry!" It is a phrase designed to enforce a narrow idea of masculinity based on the misguided belief that boys should be tough and unemotional, particularly in times of distress when less manly men are prone to emotional outbursts. The phrase was a form of shaming to stop crying or showing vulnerability rather than providing the comfort necessary to help process the roiling emotions. This stoic ideal of masculinity has roots in ancient Greece, with Homer's portrayal of "emotional manliness" in the Iliad. At that time, being stoic meant being emotionally balanced. It has come to mean being unemotional, especially in a public setting. It is a case of emotional suppression when it was meant as a way to examine and manage emotions.

he impact of animals on the human psyche has undergone a myriad of changes, some more impactful than others. In our ancient, pre-syphilization days, animals were viewed with reverent awe coupled with cold practicality. It was common for the ancient humanoids to request forgiveness from the animal's spirit when killing them for food, while simultaneously imbuing them with mystical powers and as elders from whom life lessons could be gleaned. Cave paintings reinforce that they were definitely more than just ambulatory foodstuffs, but powerful beings with a spiritual significance. These attitudes helped all live in physical and spiritual harmony.

Reality is defined as the state of things as they actually exist, encompassing all observable facts, events, and entities. It represents the totality of what exists independent of human perception, imagination, or theoretical speculation. Ultimately, reality exists objectively, independent of conscious observation or belief. Humans perceive objective reality via subjective filters. Since our senses and brains distort input, we can never see the world "as it objectively is."

One of the indicators that a person will shed the shackles imprisoning them to religion is their level of education. College graduates are more likely than the less educated to identify as atheists or agnostics. It is why the strongly religiously inclined disparage universities that liberate the human mind and, lately, decry them with the latest propagandized and misapplied word, "woke." The word is used as a pejorative for anything seen as overly progressive or performative. It has become a catch-all slur for progressive values predicated on a growing disdain for empathy.

Not being a hunter, I do not generally enter the wilds seeking to find a specific animal. I tend to be content with any wildlife that graces my presence. Living in cities, I don't have to scrutinize my surroundings for large predators capable of felling me in one swipe of a massive paw or a piercing bite from two-inch canine teeth in crunching jaws. There is the remote possibility of death by 10,000 rat nibbles or one if it is rabid. Thankfully, they are typically shy creatures who venture out in the middle of the night when I'm sleeping.

I was struck by a poignant thought last night while crossing the no man's land between wakefulness and sleeping. I was hovering on that silken line beyond awake, before sleep, where all existence is concentrated in the immediate now, when this thought hit me. All we ever live in is the timeless now moment. How can there exist a past if we perpetually dwell in a timeless state? The very definition of past is predicated on time passing, but there is no time in the timeless present; therefore, there can be no past. The same logic holds for any potential future; if there is no time to pull us forward from the present now we are always in.

wonder what the impetus was that shifted the human mind to alter vision solely to detect danger toward an appreciation for beauty. It was a massive change with a potentially detrimental downside. Becoming distracted by the beautiful could leave one exposed, thus vulnerable to menacing actors. The change had to be gradual. If ancient hominids had the same draw to beauty as we do today, they would likely have been erased from the evolutionary tree by susceptibility to predation. There are numerous indicators that our ancient hominid ancestors had a visceral aesthetic attraction at least as far back as our Neanderthal cousins.

As a lifelong learner, I want to know everything about everything. Well, that's my North Star goal that guides my mind. I know it is impossible, given that we can't know anything that isn't yet discovered about life, the universe, and everything. Learning is a process, a never-ending process that can't be expedited by Matrix-style programming, where knowledge gained is limited only by the speed of a computer download. It must progress step by step by step. The most challenging headwinds in the process are those hurricanes that originate from within my psyche.

When I was a young lad, the only ginger in my neighborhood and schools, making me a target, altercations arose between mismatched combatants that generally used words as weapons, with occasional flare-ups into fisticuffs. We attempted to ward off those words with the trite saying: "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names can never hurt me." I think the saying may have been a shield, a psychological shield protecting our vulnerable psyches from the effects of warfare as old as humanity itself. I've learned over the years that the saying is half true and half utter nonsense.

he USA's most enduring mythology, one the citizenry loves to chest-thump, is that we are the land of the free and home of the brave. That we are the last bastion of liberation in the increasingly repressed world. That we are a beacon of hope in a raging sea, guiding the masses suffering from psychological incarceration and servitude toward salvation, toward autonomy, toward emancipation, and the God-given right to live in the absence of tyranny. How does this mythology stack up against reality?

I adhere to a strict policy of truth. Much of my adult life has been invested in seeking truth in both my professional and personal lives. This is heavily influenced by my belief that truth will not only set society free of tyranny, but it also begets a clarity that positively reinforces an individual's confidence in themselves and allows others in society to have confidence in the truth teller. Assuming people relish a thinking society. My wife has said that I am too honest, too truthful. This is not a recommendation to lie, rather not to overshare the messy details of my thinking processes. It's a situational thing.

ove is quite possibly the most intense emotion humans experience, equalled in intensity by its opposite, hate, a form of negative love. Alternatively, Love is a form of strong positive care, while Hate is a strong negative care. Hate is not a negation of love but an emotional hole that consumes love as a black hole insatiably consumes light to the point that the light is essentially destroyed. The logician in me, where possible, prefers to view concepts in graphical form to more easily understand the relationships among...

f I had to hazard a guess, I would say one of the oldest conundrums pinging humanity's consciousness is the simple question, "Why am I here?" Not as in a physical location, though that is also a mystery. No. Why, as in "Why do I exist?" "What is my purpose for being?" The pursuit of a nacreious answer has led to all sorts of bricolage answers without ever really arriving at an answer that is satisfying to few aside from trite reference to mythical deities with a supposed plan for each and every being...human being. As humans...

Not only do we not need a new religion or Bible, we no longer need, never actually needed, the old religion or Bible. In fact, we would be much better off had they, and other holy tomes, never cursed the human condition by driving people to believe their contents are true despite contradicting evidence and internal conflicts. The new experience needed is a transformation in how we perceive our individual existence with respect to the reality in which we are physically embedded. The current "I" must be scrubbed from decades' worth of clinging societal detritus applied by social engineering designed to obfuscate the individual self. Our lack of diligence to protect ourselves allowed us to be absorbed into...

The Bible can and has been 'interpreted' to justify everything from chattel slavery to genocide to sanctioned rape of virgins to dashing babies on rocks...along with a smattering of niceties such as love thy neighbor, the meek shall inherit the earth, and forgiving transgressors 70 times 7 times. This is partly due to imperfect translations between ancient and modern languages, translators with bias, and readers blinded by their own disposition, prejudices, preferences, and preconceived notions they wish to impose upon others. Take, for instance, the Hebrew word Radah, translate...

Twas a season in my life when I was energized and invigorated by loud music and parties attended by many, with a heavy flow of alcohol lubricating social interactions and, maybe, a late-night tête-à-tête with a member of the opposite sex. Some of the best times took place at my parents' summer estate, a two-bedroom cabin in Central Wisconsin Lake Country, attended by family and friends, where each evening was closed out with many sitting around a campfire listening to music until the wee hours of the night, bleeding into morning. All while engaging in the lively art of conversation. Since those days...

It is a travesty that the richest country in the world ranks a paltry 20th in quality of education on the global scale. That our traditional adversaries in China and Russia are ranked higher does not augur well for an impressive future. There are a couple of factors leading to the embarrassing rank...hoarding of money by politicians for pork barrel projects and an undue influence from religious-based organizations, more concerned about Christianizing the education system than freeing the minds of students to soar with the elan of Eagles. The two are inextricably intertwined because...

I find it intriguing that death as a beginning is a belief held vigorously by both religious sects and the zombies amongst us. Two querlous groups, both looking beyond the immediate toward a future that may or may not have any basis in cold reality. I wonder how the zealots rationalize their bodies becoming animated post death, a time they mythologize that the soul separates from the physical before traveling the star path. Does the reanimation require the soul to return from the star realm? Is the awakening proof souls cleave off the corpse rather than sleep for eternity or until the postapocalypse, performing a necessary function as do the vulture people? The beings most likely to survive a nuclear holocaust...

Since the advent of time, it is conservatively estimated that 18,000 different gods, goddesses, and related deities have been invented for veneration and worship. The cults arising around the deities range from single-deity monotheistic religions to thousands of deities in polytheistic and pantheistic religions to 330 million in the Hindu pantheon. In practice, the Hindu number is symbolic, reflecting the concept that one ultimate reality, Brahman, can appear in innumerable forms, each a distinct god or deity. It is as confusing to me as the improbable holy trinity created by Christianity to elevate a murdered, itinerant preacher to divine status via a mythical resurrection from physical death. Ironically...

believe most, possibly all, humans have a deep-seated desire to be accepted for who they authentically are, including the rough spots others might see as warts or defects. That given a safe space, they would discard the accoutrements designed to help them blend in with the masses and stand emotionally naked, exposing those attributes, making themselves uniquely themselves. That they would sing their song at dawn or any other time of day aligned with their internal body clocks. Given our amazing diversity, there would be songs filling every second of every day. How glorious that would be?!?! Coca-Cola used to wish the world would sing in perfect harmony...

do my damndest to placate my soul with the goal of minimizing any hate harbored in my heart. Mostly, I am successful. It is a challenge to maintain a modicum of temperance, considering the country in which I am a citizen in good standing is going down the shitter because a narcissist with craploads of money has wrapped tiny hands around power and is using the power to take from the poor so the insanely wealthy can boost their financial holdings. This is not speculation...

The movie Shane, along with High Noon, released the prior year, and Unforgiven, coming 39 years later, are three Westerns that forever changed the genre. The first two shifted the narrative from simple good guy versus bad guy, both cowboys decidedly entrenched in the black and white decision-making, with nary a shade of ambiguity to add tension, to psychologically complex stories of conflicted individual heroes wrestling with moral dilemmas laced with moral uncertainty. The heroes battle in a land more gray than either black or white combined. The stories helped solidify the gunslinger...

In general, humans look upon the cycle of life with an eye toward the born version being the ultimate end goal. Human arrogance takes this thousands of steps further with the proclamation that all existence was designed so that humans could thrive... even though the Earth occupies far a less than miserly 3.08x10-58% of the universe's volume. That myopic notion arises because we humans are essentially aphotic with respect to the fundamental interconnectedness of all things. Many of those who do accept the truth of evolution mistakenly...

highly doubt our arboreal ancestors spent their precious time contemplating the existence of a soul, busy as they were gathering and hunting while keeping watch for the multitude of predators hoping to turn their tender flesh into a satisfying meal. Contemplation of abstract concepts is superfluous when struggling to ensure the tribe can survive, let alone thrive. Possibly, the only human foible more detrimental to the human condition than agriculture is the invention of the belief in an immortal soul, one that sashays to an afterlife at the time of physical death. That juicy rationalization...

If you were to ask my mother, she would say I was born with an appetence for rebellion. Where raising some children is challenging because they are strong-willed, I was doubly difficult because I was born with an equally strong won't. Thankfully, she was blessed with a fortitude of a saint, helping her steer me away from a life that could, under different circumstances, have propelled me into a life of incarceration. Plus, I was a bit lucky never to be caught...

Of all the world's religious leaders, I most admire His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Not because I consider Buddhism to be true, rather because the Dalai Lama has a propensity to not harass people to convert to Buddhism in any of its forms. In fact, he discourages conversion from other religions, arguing it is safer and better to stick with ancestral or cultural faiths because switching risks superficial adoption without true commitment. In his humble integrity, he opposes proselytizing because it exploits vulnerability, the very quality the Abrahamists manipulate to grow their flocks. The Dalai Lama's approach assumes...

Mired, as I am, in Western linear modes of thinking, I have a difficult time grasping the circular time concepts comprising the Vedic texts and the Bhagavad Gita, especially the lifetime conjecture scope in the opening quote. I was indoctrinated with the belief the human scope consists of a single lifetime, where the Gita outlines multiple lives dictated by reincarnation cycles bent by Karma Yoga, driving the rebirth cycle. In Western ethics, the goal is moral order and autonomy for our one and only life. In the Gita, the goal is moksha, liberation from Samsara, the cycle of rebirth. It emphasizes...

While I have never had the pleasure of living in Bear country, I have hiked and camped in Bear's world and had the ecstatic experience of seeing a Grizzly Bear sow and her three cubs. Seeing them in the Montana wilds, separated only by physical space, induced feelings of reverent terror coupled with awe that is impossible to achieve when viewing Bear from the safety of the protective barriers zoos erect to prevent the mayhem of the great bear harvesting a human or three. After all, it is difficult to feel reverent awe when viewing a clown in a cage or an incarcerated prisoner, a poor imitation of an authentic being able to snuff out human life with one swipe of its massive, clawed paw.

Most mornings, I sit meditating at my altar under the watchful eyes of Ganesh, Buddha, Athena, the Venus of Willendorf, three skulls of two raptors, one corvid, and an obsidian Raven with yellow eyes. Today, my space is scented by a slow-burning, earthy incense stick. I generally wait until one stick is consumed by the subtle flame before lighting a second of a different ilk to prevent intercourse between the two scents. I changed my paradigm this morning. Rather than waiting to ignite a second stick, I put match to tip, watched it flare briefly before settling into the slow burn, releasing another aromatic fragrance from the slew of scents awaiting their turn. To my surprise, the two smoke streams coordinated, interweaving with each other in a corkscrew spiral until the two became one.

wonder, does the spider know the insect net it creates by first laying down the Y frame, followed closely by radial spokes, all connected via the sticky spirals, giving it the classic shape depicted in Charlotte's Web, doubles as its own prison? That madame spider is at once guard, inmate, and executioner? That she is simultaneously a bull and fish, patiently awaiting the arrival of fresh fish to ensnare before exsanguination? Not only is Spider a prisoner of the web, but she is a slave to the silken net raised each night then razed each morning...

Too often, the word chaos is burdened with a negative connotation. Think: disorder, confusion, unpredictability, and lack of control that overwhelms or destabilizes. It is often associated with evil or malevolence, a consequence of what some call sin, undermining god's so-called perfect order. It is a view requiring walls to be arrow straight, all corners set at a perfect 90 degrees, all circles absolutely round, all hearts focused on pleasuring Sky Daddy, who defeated Satan, the one accused of being the author of ungodly chaos. The Devil angle is where the negative connotations are derived. This simplistic perspective overlooks...

Modern religious expression has become as fouled by selfishness as carcass-contaminated water. All who drink from it risk their mental health from toxins that infiltrate and infest the mind, undermining the ability to be a loving human. It is no longer an individual path toward spiritual supremacy, but a performance where the believers accost the non-believers (aka thinkers) to boost the number of people in the pews, where they are expected to tithe offerings and adhere to strict political agendas imposed upon believer and thinker alike.

This quote hit me with the force of slamming into an overhanging tree branch while running with abandon at full speed in the dead of night. Yes, I had to pick my ass up off the floor and it took me quite some time to return to my senses. On separate occasions, I have laid hands on the trunks of three trees, thousands of miles apart, and felt them vibrating with an energy that used my hands as a conduit, infusing my soul with a sonorous rhythm. Each time, the intimacy of the connection caused tears of joy to run down my ruddy face. The jolt to my system caused me to perpend deeply on the mystical interactions before I was able to extricate myself from their presence and move on, my body still buzzing.