Musings of a Middle Aged Man

As much as I appreciate the laws of physics and relish in precise mathematical concepts and believe society should adhere to generalized guidelines, I am a huge fan of breaking rules, especially when they are capricious, arbitrary, and not uniformly applied. I am saying this as a former soccer referee assigned the authority to judge and mete out punishment, up to and including execution, upon breakers of the sacred Laws as handed down from on high by IFAB, the sole arbiter of the soccer holy book. Thankfully, the high priests of soccer Laws of the Game include an overarching premise that the laws are to be applied with common sense, allowing the referee to ignore infractions if doing so is for the good of the game, including the enjoyment of participants both playing the game and watching the game being played.

One of the greatest evils foisted upon growing children is the Christian fixation on the mythical Satan used to terrorize the tender-aged with the teaching that they will spend eternity in the Lake of Fire for not kowtowing to the tenets laid out in the Bible. Childhood, in the modern day, is supposed to be a carefree time of growth through exploration, not a season to suffer night terrors because they may make an unknown, unforgivable mistake, condemning them to an eternity being tormented. Ostensibly, the fairy tale, worse than any Grimm conjured, is used to enlighten immature minds to the way of the one true religion out of near-endless possibilities, growing them into mature and moral righteousness. We will, conveniently, forget for a moment that adults are unable to avoid 'sinful' behavior, even opting to ignore or rationalize away those that interfere with them living their lives according to the beat of their peculiar drum.

Imagine, if you can, a world where bits of colored cloth did not rile people up to commit acts of war or prop up genocidal campaigns aimed at eradicating the undesirables. A world where allegiance was not given to nation states, but instead to Earth herself. No borders. No countries. Devotion instead to the apodictic rock beneath our feet and the entirety of beings calling our big rock home. Rather than calling ourselves American or Colombian or Bengali or any other nation state, we begin identifying ourselves as Earthians or Earthlings or some name indicating our allegiance to all life on earth rather than any segment carved out by evil.

It does not help that the wanna be king turd and his horrid band of jesters are doing everything in their collective power to establish policies normalizing hate against anyone who does not conform to the narrowly construed definition of a true American patriot - white, protestant, male and begrudgingly female if they keep to their place in the hierarchy, with at least three generation of parents holding the same qualifications. Bonus points are bequeathed upon Nazis and other white supremacist groups including the virulent white, Christian Nationalists.

Our self-aggrandizing tendency to view ourselves with respect to our best days and others according to their worst moments is self-serving bias taken to an extreme. It is frequently employed because their cognitive dissonance needs prevent them from thinking rationally. Cognitive Dissonance also comes into play when we judge ourselves by our intentions, irrespective of our actions, and others by their actions, irrespective of their intentions. This helps us justify judging others in their weakest moments while we lord our best moments over others.

There are many animal traits I admire to the point of envy. The acute vision to see a tiny rodent from so high in the blue, the falcon appears a mere speck. The agility to change direction so quickly it sends a pursuing predator tumbling ass over tea kettle. The twitch muscles enabling a hunting feline to strike five times in the blink of a human eye. Hearing that can detect the sound of a pine needle breaking from the tree, tumbling through the air, and hitting the ground with a dainty thud. And countless other senses light years more evolved than the capabilities of the most adept human animal. The quality or ability I most admire is the one that allows them to traverse the natural world wherever the geography allows them to sustain the needs and lives of themselves and their offspring while ignoring the arbitrary political boundaries imposed by the human element. Border walls? Over, under, through. Immigration control? Doused with white shit droppings. Don't need no passport to visit and play in your sandboxes, you selfish bastards.

There is a singular Navajo word, Hózhǫ́, that encompasses engulfment in beauty that also includes immersion in balance, harmony, wellness, adaptability, and gratitude. The nuances are complex and varied with subtle connotations all pointing toward personal peace and harmonious societal coexistence. There is no single English word with a one-to-one correlation in meaning thus the listed words are necessary to help one to understand the Navajo word tangentially.

Complete transparency. I was a nightmare growing up. A stubborn, mean, self-centered person approaching the world with a confrontational attitude toward anyone who would get in my way. I was regularly a punch first and ask questions later philosopher. The word sorry was not in my lexicon and was only uttered under threat of punishment. Despite my arrogance, my verbal violence, my overall negative demeanor, my mother still loved me. It wasn't until I had my own children that I understood the depth of love for a child. Thankfully, none of them were as defiant or belligerent as me.

Any doubts the Bible is not misogynistic are dispelled by the third chapter in the first book when Eve ate from the tree and "suffered" her eyes being opened to reality. The story implies open eyes are a bad thing, an inescapable curse. Vision is only a bad thing if the chattel is owned rather than a partner in equal standing and can help the enslaved understand and long for freedom.

Given the opportunity or, if I had written it myself, a level of intelligent creativity that often eludes me, I would replace the word holy in the opening quote with the word sacred. True, the two words are often used interchangeably and frequently used as synonyms, however, there are subtleties altering each quote's personality.

The insidious aspects of groups come when the individual is seen as a cog in the system often filling roles that do not make use of their unique interests, skills, and abilities. Even worse, they frequently succumb to groupthink, a dehumanizing state where individual opinions are shunned placing the non-compliant thinker in danger of being ostracized.

There are a couple of religious leaders I begrudgingly admire despite their association with the cults of organized religion. Or, as Christopher Hitchens calls them and others of their ilk, the enemy. My admiration comes from a single utterance unique to each of them but are closely related in essence. The first of the leaders, Pope Francis, currently struggling to stave off his end of life, when he proclaimed, much to the dismay of the zealotry, who fear losing personal power above all, that all religions are a path to God. I cheered on his proclamation with as much vim and vigor as I did when Sínead ripped Pope John Paul II, protector of pedophile priests, picture in twain on live TV.

I find it fascinating that words not only can be used to describe objects and fill in the gaps needed to understand action and non-action on a subject but also color entire society's attitudes toward the subject. Take, for example, the compound word wilderness. It is derived from the individual words wild, meaning savage coupled with doer, meaning beast. Together, they describe a savage place of untamed beauty useful, as in the case of Little Red and the canines she tormented to frighten children into behaving...

By general standards, at 4,434 unique posts, and counting, I am a prolific blogger. Of course, quantity does not necessarily equate with quality. At a mere average of 24 views per post, my offerings are barely a wart on the ass of influencership. Not that my goal is to achieve notoriety as an influencer. They tend to be entitled bottom feeders expecting the world to bow to their presence and shower them with free stuff while I am attempting to become more humble.

rowing up, I recall watching a made-for-TV movie about two Irish boys, one Protestant and the other Catholic, plucked from the 'Troubles' plaguing Northern Ireland. They were sent to the US and housed, temporarily, with a US family. The twist? The sponsoring parents, a mother and father, were a Catholic and a Protestant living in harmony, well, as harmonious as any marriage can be. I was blissfully unaware of the sectarian violence bloodying Belfast so was confused as to why the boys were sworn enemies despite never having met prior to their overseas visit. I was also blissfully unaware of the evil adherents to religions can be.

The three most impactful events I've ever seen on television are the moon landing in 1969 magnificent for human ingenuity overcoming complex problems using nascent computer technology to set foot on the mysterious celestial body that has intrigued humanity (and animals and plants) since time's dawn. Next comes in 2001 when two planes crashed into the Twin Towers, including their subsequent collapse, highlighting for the ten millionth time the deadly danger of letting religion run amok in society let alone be the basis for any form of government.The third, and most impactful to me...

The scary thing about cult members, zealots if you will, is they are able to twist any information, even if it is directly opposite their position, to prove their case by utilizing mental gyrations that defy all logic, including pretzel logic. Most of the time they appeal to the source of their information to prove their source, an alarming usage of circular logic a type of logical fallacy where the conclusion of an argument is assumed in one of its premises.

It feels as if my parents did a disservice to me and my five siblings when they filled us with buckets of no strings attached love. They loved us as unique individuals through thick and thin, come hell or high water, for better or worse, in good times and bad, and against all odds.

The challenge of empathy is, that if you don't have empathy for others, you lack the necessary empathic ability to realize you lack empathy. This enables you to commit unspeakable acts because you don't know or even care how the recipient of the acts feels. The terms to describe a person with an empathy deficit include sociopath, psychopath, and narcissist.

Diversity is necessary for any endeavor...another triggering Boomer topic who see DEI programs as giving jobs to lesser skilled minorities when it was instituted to overcome lesser qualified white male candidates being hired over better qualified minorities.

Personally, I can't fathom the mind that would shun languages or people simply because they are different. This closed mindset is anathema to learning and growth. And if we are not growing then we might as well be dead. There is little difference between the two.

New beginnings. A blank book decorated for the first time with 179 pages eagerly (I hope) anticipating their turn for the ink to wax eloquently, to wane dispassionately, to invest time in growing my creative abilities while purging the existing slop, infecting my mind, heart, and soul.

A crucial factor creating a separation gulf between man and other animals is our ability to imagine, to create what-if scenarios to stretch our understanding of existence and the laws governing existence. Even more astonishing, it allows us to create something that never before was known or imagined by another, in a sense, making us gods in our own right. The creation can be as beguiling as an abstract painting, as intricate as a well-crafted story. There is also the nefarious path

The "land of the free and home of the brave" has devolved into "land of the oppressed and home of the fearful." Tell them this and they will yank out their concealed carry guns and, maybe spit in your face, to exhibit their bravery not realizing the gun they are toting is the hard evidence they live in abject fear. This partly explains the rise of Christian Nationalism and the propensity to frame everything as good or evil, black or white, shunning any nuances or shades of gray proving otherwise.

I experienced an aha moment the other day, a mega-watt lightbulb moment illuminating a truth previously hidden in the deep shadows cast by my lack of awareness, disdain for religion, and a closed thought to an idea that seemed radical at the moment but, upon reflection, a fiber of common sense truth. I imagine it was similar to the lightbulb moments such as Newton formulating the theory of gravity, Einstein's insights leading to his theory of special relativity, tRumpers when they finally realize their earthly deity is a charlatan fleecing his flock, and countless other insights coming in a flash.

Is it profound arrogance or simple hubris that drives humanity to believe we are separate from nature and have dominion over the natural world? Sure, we mostly have dominion over ourselves within the boundaries established by the government but to extend self dominion of our natural selves to claiming dominion over nature is a stretch that makes sense only to religious and political zealots.

A stark contrast separating science from religion comes about from science being dedicated to discovering what they don't know so they can fill knowledge gaps whereas religion is happy to claim God is the answer filling any blindspots with mythological nuances no matter how fantastical, improbable, or irrational. It is a form of willful blindness by people terrified of reality, no different than the popular myth of ostriches hiding their heads in the sand to trick predators into thinking the bird is invisible when the only one being fooled is the foolish ostrich.

Since Limbo is no longer de rigueur in the Catholic canon and the simple fact I've been baptized twice so could never be eligible for the imaginary place of natural happiness for those who died without personal sin, I can only conclude I have been banished to a state of perpetual purgatory for my soul will never be purified. Unlike the slippery Catholic doctrine defining purgatory as a state of purification existing somewhere between heaven and hell, my purgatory is in the here and now. An aura forming a nimbus fully encasing my present with tentacles into the future-past and the past-future.

One of the darkest periods in US history was the forcible removal of Indigenous children from their parents and confining them to "re-education" schools where they were shorn of sacred hair and beaten when speaking their natal languages. The historical fact that Navajo Code Talkers helped save allied lives during WWII is a massive up yours to the fools and evil doers insisting the children speak English only ultimately resulting in the loss of a lingual identity for many of the abused children. To say nothing of the physical and sexual abuse many suffered. One wonders, did they have mastery over the words that would have exposed their abusers? If they did, did authority care enough to see them as humans instead of mongrels? Did they put credence in the words of those with the courage to speak up?

I have heard numerous times that an artist encodes themselves in their work. Not purposely. It is a natural outcropping of the creative process, a process as intimate as loving another human being. Perhaps, the reason I feared making art for large swaths of my life is that I am either uncomfortable having others see the hidden me or I am terrified of seeing the essence of myself.

If recent events spanning the past ten years, have taught me anything it is that the typical American cares little for any truth that would undermine the lies they hold so dear and near to their deceitful hearts. It is not just little lies like your new hairstyle is becoming or, yes, your butt does look deliciously phat in that outfit. It is grandiose lies peated and repeated ad nauseum in a bid to garner votes, pure and simple. The gullibility necessary to embrace the dishonest deceptions is the same genetic defect that finds people flocking to religion as insects are attracted to bright lights at night followed by the zap when they are sizzled to death.

What does art demand? Easy. Everything. Heart, mind, body, and soul dedicated to art with no less zeal than a zealot willing to sacrifice themselves for their religion. And that is why I will never be a great artist. I am a reluctant enthusiast, a part-time creator saving a large chunk of my time to simply, "Be!" Or it may be a convenient excuse to cover my lack of imagination and inability to paint anything resembling a straight line or a smooth curve without dips and bounces and jags that prevent me from painting something, anything that looks realistic.

By their nature, feathers are imbued with a magical mystical quality helping the mind soar to unforeseeable, unfathomable heights, elevating the soul into ethereal realms with a flock of kindred creatives. At least, they do for me and, I suspect, for the gaggle viewing Earth as the one true god, and nature as the one true path to God. This is not a fluffy God that will reach a finger down to rescue anyone from mortal danger no matter how much we prostrate and chant petitions begging for mercy. Nope. It is a deity that has given us and other beings, all they need to survive, to thrive, if we have the eyes to see and utilize our minds to understand cold, harsh reality. As the prophet proclaimed, "Better a cruel truth than a comfortable delusion." Sadly, many prefer to dwell in delusion which explains the despicable approach to Earth-God during our short time on the planet in our present manifestation.

The decisive factor contributing to human ascendency from tree-dwelling, shadow-hiding primates into the dominant species on the planet is our unique ability to encode thought into a set of symbols for future reference rather than being slaves to the instincts encoded in our DNA. Writing and reading are human superpowers. They bestow upon us the ability to learn from people we will never meet including the thoughts of humans who died in Sumeria five thousand years before I emerged onto the world stage. The superpower allows us to learn from the 400 unique Sumerian literary compositions and the billions upon billions of texts dutifully recorded in a multitude of languages, some of which have evaporated into nothingness.

Part and parcel of being raised in a monoculture is the gradually built hubris wherein the world is divided into two distinct antithetical halves. They are 'our way' and the 'wrong way.' It sets the stage for the curse of binary thinking, an almost complete inability to see shades of grey, including the inability to appreciate the vivid spectrum between white and black that gives the world its luster. To ensure 'our way' is the only way, a set of rules is codified to simultaneously encourage behaviors that make 'us' comfortable while oppressing any actions or thoughts not aligned with the desired norm. Nowhere is the set of must follow rules more rigid than in the three Abrahamic faiths even if it is only a sliver of the adherents that actually comply with the prescribed actions and inactions.

It is amazing that words uttered when years could still be written with two digits are a laser light exposing reality 2,000 years after the fact. It is a perfect example of Santayana's maxim that the past is repeated by those who can't remember (or read) it. None of us were in existence during the life of Seneca and most Americans are too incestuously nationalistic to put credence in the brilliance of anyone not born on US soil to European origin parents let alone read anything not originally written in English making them vulnerable to repeating mistakes others removed from the repertoire long, long ago.

In some cases, familiarity brings a measure of acceptance. In others, familiarity brings about contempt. Ubiquity becomes first invisible before transforming into a constant grating on the nerves at its everpresent presence. All the while, that which we can't have, acts as a siren pulling us powerfully in its direction. If I eat the same food too often, I get sick of it. If I hear the same music repeatedly, I wipe its presence from my playlists and quickly turn the channel when it invades the radio.

Everything you are about to read is bullshit, complete and utter nonsense better attributed to a person locked in a padded cell and restrained by a four-point harness than an educated scientist steeped in the mythology thought can and should be rational. Every concept, every sentence, every phrase, each word, letter, even the spaces between the letters are lies. This piece contains not an ounce of truth yet reveals profound truths. How can this be you ask?

For decades, I have coveted a poet's soul to balance the strictness of my Engineer's mind to help me break free of constricting squares whose corners harbor demons allowing me to immerse in the freedom of circles without beginning or end. It is a struggle. Half of me wants to elucidate exquisite reality while the other half prefers to marinate in surreality where the physical laws of the universe hold no sway opening a hole in the space-time continuum, a circular hole, a spheroid...

Humans are attuned to patterns. It was a necessary evolutionary nuance for the hairless ape to survive the descent from the trees to the plains in Africa where differentiating between food source and foe was crucial to seeing the sunrise on future days. I imagine ancient man adopted clothing and ornamentation associating them with their clan creating easily discernable patterns helping them recognize the safety of familial alliance from quite a distance. The ability to discern patterns from seemingly random

I find it challenging to write with enough clarity that a piece accurately and adequately expresses my ideas so there are minimal holes in understanding my thoughts with my poet's soul desiring to say the most possible in the fewest words building upon captivating imagery. The former requires copious words in precision order that frequently loses the reader in utter boredom while the latter can easily obfuscate...

Imagine, if you will, a football (real football) match between the Premier and World Champion Manchester United (I know, a current fantasy) and a team of U9 players with the match played on a regulation pitch bounded by 45-minute halves. Besides being a joke to both the professional and amateur athletes participating in the fiasco, it would be an insult...

I fondly remember from days of yore when differences of opinion would result in deep, logic-based, fact-centered debate, sometimes heated by passion's flame resulting either in agreement with one or both parties shifting their understanding, or termination in agreement to disagree respectfully with the debaters toddling off together for cold beverages or a hot meal without any animosity tainting the flavors. It was almost like the two in the discussion...

In the halcyon days of my youth, a female acquaintance informed me that kissing is considered so intimate that ladies of the night refrain from lip-to-lip action with their clients while having no qualms about letting a man otherwise ravage their bodies. As far as I know, this woman never worked in the world's oldest profession so I have no idea how she knew this tidbit. She couldn't search online as this was long before the internet...

I grew up in the era of flower power, make love not war, the smiley face, and the peace sign which oddly became the symbol of a criminal president. It was heralded as a new Dawn of Aquarius, a time of change, hope, innovation, and a shift in consciousness from "me" to "we" ushering in a break from staid traditions allowing for new ideas to germinate, bloom, and perfume the world. I was young, naive, and still believed society was going to wake into an era of enlightenment...

I rarely disagree with the pearls of wisdom extolled by the prophet extraordinaire, Edward Abbey. Much of my thought lines were indeed born of his writing but, unlike religious zealots, I am as comfortable rejecting his pearls that don't glisten in my heart as I am in accepting others into my soul and informing my future. I am not saying he was delusional with the opening quote only that its application is not universal. And I am not implying madness does not dwell in the depths of silence... --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/david-olson6/support

Since my early 20s, I have fantasized about escaping the large, midwestern city to which I was unfortunately born for someplace more rural with a landscape that would feed my imagination with surreal apparations that I could work into interesting reading. Countless situations have arranged themselves such that my vision has never been made manifest. I currently live in the heart of the city that I still long to expunge from my weary soul so that it may be cleansed. I am beginning to think my dream is... --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/david-olson6/support

The first riddle encountered with the Raven tribe is they are not black. To human eyes, they appear black but that's because we hairless apes are locked into the "visible" spectrum and lack the eye cone that would allow us to also detect waves in the UV spectrum. To their own kind, they are tinged with bluish, dark red, or greenish undertones complementing the black base... --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/david-olson6/support

his opening quote ostensibly falling from the prepubescent mouth of John Lennon appears to identify a fractious mind when compared to another Lennonism in the form of lyrics claiming "Happiness is a Warm Gun." There is no written record of John ever telling this story still it has been attributed to this man who, along with three compadres, revolutionized Rock 'n Roll music helping it soar to vaunted heights. --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/david-olson6/support

My hands have not flowed over canvas in months. Not a color imagined. Not a brush of liquid pigment leaving a snail trail on the white, waveless ocean. Not an inkling of beauty finding its way out of my head where, once visions had to fight for a line place and imminent exposure to the light of day. No queue remains for the beauty, any beauty has become ash and was blown away into oblivion by the winds fleeing an empty soul. Barren. Desolate. Bleak. Lifeless. Garbage in, garbage out. --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/david-olson6/support

I am watching a live stream that bubbled up on one of my social media feeds. The stream is of a procession led by Tenzin Gyatso, the 14th and incumbent Dalai Lama, each a reincarnation of his predecessor and a manifestation of Avalokiteshvara, the original Bodhisattva of Compassion. The Dalai Lamas are revered as high spiritual leaders in Tibetan Buddhism. They are not viewed as reincarnations of the Buddha but rather as his spiritual successors, specifically tied to the Bodhisattva of Compassion. Tenzin is 89, born on the same month and day as my father but two years into the future... --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/david-olson6/support