Category: Daily comments

Comments, observations and thoughts about whatever seems relevant at the time. There is no particular topic, these are intended to be general observations about things that come up during my life.

Time

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I am currently in the middle of a little book by Carlo Rovelli called “The Order of Time.” I seem to be stumbling from page to page with my mind being boggled as I attempt to “follow” the story. Having a background in physics might help me do this, but that is not certain. At least I am already familiar with the concepts, theories and historical figures that he draws upon – but the way Rovelli is weaving the story seems both helpful in providing a better glimpse into some of my long-time confusions, but then adds a lot of new ones. I am going to write this posting a little different than normal. I am going to write little snippets, or add interesting quotes as I go along reading the book. That means that this blog will change over time as I “edit” it and repost it with new materials. I don’t promise continuity or avoiding conflicting ideas.

Here goes:

Time goes slower in higher gravitational fields. For example, the gravitational field on top of a mountain is less than at sea level because of the increased distance to the center of mass of the earth. Hence, time is faster on top of the mountain than at sea level. Not a lot slower at sea level, but enough to have major impacts. According to Rovelli, “The slowing down of time has crucial effects: think fall because of it, and it allows us to keep our feet firmly on the ground. If our feet adhere to the pavement, it is because our whole body inclines naturally to where time runs more slowly – and time passes more slowly for your feet than it does for your head.”

“On the one hand, there was time, with its many determinations; on the other, the simple fact is that nothing is: things happen.“

“We can think of the world as made up of things. Of substances, Of entities. Of something that is. Or we can think of it as made up of events, Of happenings. Of processes. Of something that occurs. Something that does not last, and that undergoes continual transformation, that is not permanence in time. It is the realization of the ubiquity of impermanence, not of statsis in a motionless time.” This is pointing to the rather odd perspective that the universe is made up of nothing (no thing), it is all a manifestation of action, of change in line with the Buddhist teachings about the importance of the concept of impermanence. It isn’t just that there everything is impermanent, but that is exactly what everything is – IMPERMANENCE. “The world is not a collection of things, it is a collection of events.”

“It isn’t true, as is sometimes stated, that life generates structures that are particularly ordered, or that locally diminish entropy: it is simply a process that degrades and consumes the low entropy of food, it is a self-structured disordering, no more or less than in the rest of the universe. From the most minute events to the more complex ones, it is this dance of ever-increasing entropy, nourished by the initial low entropy of the universe, that is the real dance of Shiva, the destroyer.”

In Book XI of the Confessions, Saint Augustine asks himself about the nature of time, how we can be aware of duration if we are always only in a present that is instantaneous. He concludes that:

It is within my mind, then, that I measure time. I must not allow my mind to insist that time is something objective. When I measure time, I am measuring something in the present in my mind. Either this is time, or I have no idea what time is.

Dream at the Lake

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I had a very long and involved dream that wasn’t lucid until at the very end.  The dream played like a movie, but from the point of view of me rather than as a camera watching me.

When the dream started it was the end of spring, the beginning of summer.  I was working as a handyman/owner/manager of a campground located on the edge of a lake used for fishing, swimming, water skiing, etc.  I was cleaning the grounds, working on boats, pumping gas on the boat dock, etc. 

Little by little, important people in my life started showing up.  They arrived in old cars, walked in, hitch hiked, or whatever.  They were all having various problems in their lives, and were looking for something.  Not having a place to go, or money, they came to camp for the summer.  It ended up with about a dozen of these folks (both men and women) who stood out as the “regulars” at the campground, separate from the weekenders who kind of flowed through.

At first we all didn’t necessarily get along all that great, we kept pushing each other’s sensitive places – causing anger and hurt.  However, we gradually became friends, learning where the sensitive places were and helping each other with those areas.  We worked on fixing boats together, cooked and ate meals together; I bought a little old outboard so we could take boat rides on the lake, or just go fishing.  I helped a neighbor who had bought a big, fancy old cabin cruiser that was in terrible shape – with dreams of refurbishing it back into a luxury boat.

We eventually fell in love with each other, completely and thoroughly enjoying one another.  It was so much fun because we were all so different, so quirky, and so full of life.  As we played and worked together people started getting their lives and directions sorted out.  We were all slowly waking up to life that summer.

By the end of summer everyone was anxious to get on with their new-found directions and desires.  They ended up going off in three or four general directions, forming little groups based on that.  As the end of summer approached we started helping the car owners get their cars up and running again. We bought gas, fixed tires, repaired transmissions, etc.  One girl decided to take a bus, most were riding in the cars.

Finally the day of departure came and they all climbed into their selected transportation with great laughter and joy.  Everyone was so happy and full of adventure.  They drove out the driveway laughing and waving.  I was standing on the road watching them go, knowing that the loves of my life had just driven down the road into their bright and wonderful futures. 

I heard footsteps behind me, and turned half hoping that someone has stayed behind to play with me.  However, it was just a weekend girl camper who walked by me without a glance. 

At that moment I woke in my dream, which became lucid and I knew that I had just witnessed one of the ongoing stories in my life.  I thought, “this has been an interesting dream, it was put together just like a movie – and in fact would make a good movie.”  I then walked back to the dock, right where I was when the dream started.  I felt melancholy because my friends had gone away, joyful that they were off on great adventures, and blessed that I had the opportunity to spend part of my life with them in love and joy. 

I then realized that this is how life goes.   We are doing something kind of mundane activity, then magic happens for awhile, but then the magic is over and we are back on our path.  It is sometimes frightening to think about losing the joy of the magic, but the magic is always worthwhile, these are the times that make life all worthwhile.

Spirit in the Sweat lodge

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This is a story about my first sweat lodge ceremony with some Native American friends who showed up at my door during the summer of 2007.  We had met a few times when they called and invited me to attend a sweat lodge ceremony to be held on the coming weekend, starting at 8:00 am and going until that evening.   They invited me to a sweat at one of their homes. 


The first thing that struck my eye was that the lodge had a different shape than the one I have in my back yard.  It was made of tied willows like mine, but much bigger.  They commented on how big it was, so I guess that it is larger than normal.  It was approximately five feet tall, and twelve or so feet in diameter.  The shape was a little bit like a flattened pumpkin.  The ends of the willow sticks making the structure of the lodge came out of the ground angled away from the center and then bent back over the top.  This made the walls lean back when on the inside so you not only could sit up straight, but you could lean back on them in a semi-reclining fashion.  That was an improvement to comfort over my lodge which leans inward from the ground up, making it impossible to sit up straight next to the wall.   The main structure was round like ours, but had two sets of four main sticks going parallel in the east-west and north-south directions, forming a square made up of nine squares of about a foot on a side at the top, with one square right in the middle.  Then there were two circumferential sticks to hold it together, just as we do.  They tied it all together with a natural fiber twine, and had no special colors at the connections.  The lodge was made light tight and insulated by covering it using old blankets, with a final layer of old canvas on the outside.  The door consisted of an opening with a large flap that could be opened or closed as desired.  The door opening was pretty large; you could walk in and out stooped over rather than crawling like you do with ours.  The large door opening allowed the lodge to cool down quickly between rounds of sweating, which was a relief.  The door opening was on the east side of the lodge.


The fire was in a large pit dug about ten feet away, due east from the door.  The pit was over two to three feet deep, six to eight feet in diameter, with steep vertical walls.  Once the fire was going the line between the fire and the lodge became sacred and could only be crossed by the fire tender.  If you wanted to get to the other side, you had to go around the lodge.  The rocks were volcanic, from nearby Mt. Lassen.  They were much larger than ours, in fact about as large as you could pick up with a pitch fork.  They ranged from about seven inches to ten inches or so in diameter.  The pit in the center of the lodge was much larger than ours to accommodate the larger rocks.  There was an altar consisting of a little hill in front of the door, to the north side of the line between the pit and the fire.  It held sacred objects – feathers, special jewelry and other things.

While the rest of us were busy putting on the covering, setting up the altar, setting up the covering and stuff, the singer assembled a water drum.  He used a cast iron cooking kettle with three legs for the body of the drum.  The kettle was about nine inches in diameter.  He filled it about 1/3 full of water and soaked a round piece of tanned hide in it to wet and soften the hide.  He used seven white, one-inch diameter round pebbles to help tie the hide to the top of the kettle.  He wrapped the hide around a marble, wrapped the tie rope around the hide to hold the marble and then went to the next marble. When he was done he had seven hide wrapped marbles tied around the perimeter holding the stretched hide onto the top of the kettle.  He then took the long end of the tie rope and went from the center of section of rope between the marbles, pulled it under the kettle and around a leg, then back up to the next section of rope between marbles.  When he was all done he had pulled the hide taught with ropes (using a piece of antler as a handle) crossing around the legs and under the kettle.  He tied it very tight, using his foot on the rope to get enough tension.   The drum was played by hitting it with a stick that was about a half inch in diameter and a foot long.  Once in awhile while playing it he would tip the kettle so that water wet the hide again, making a really neat change in tone.  This drum works only when wet, perfect for use inside of the sweat lodge where it is too humid to keep a normal drum taut.  As the ceremony went along, the water would evaporate and during the breaks the drummer would pour more water into the kettle, right though the surface of the hide – it just poured in like it was through a piece of cloth.   The drum would also lose air.  The drummer periodically stopped and blew air through the hide into the drum to fill it up again. 

Omicron

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I just got out of an interesting (and rather scary) zoom meeting with a few of my “safety” colleagues. There were 13 people in the meeting, living in various places across the USA (east coast, Washington State, Phoenix Arizona, southern states). The point being that they were from a large geographical area. Four of the attendees contracted omicron during the holidays. They all reported similar situations. They had attended family gathers where everyone was fully vaccinated, and everyone had previously tested negative. The common outcome was that everyone in attendance caught the virus. These four people at the meeting represented something like 30 (or more) people that contracted the disease during a couple of days together. This represents a “breakthrough” rate of around 33% for the people in attendance at my meeting this morning, and close to 100% breakthrough for the family members in attendance at the gatherings.

If this is an example of how contagious this variant is, it appears that either we stay completely away from everyone (effectively quarantining ourselves), or we will catch it. The folks at the meeting reported a variety of symptoms, mostly having severe cold-like symptoms along with terrible aches and pains, loss of muscle control and brain fog. One people reported that it was tolerable and didn’t require hospitalization, but that it was the worst sickness in their 70 years of life – hopefully not something to be repeated. Many odd symptoms were reported, such as not being able to write for a few hours because of lack of ability to control that hand and arm, dizziness, major “brain fog”, etc. After two weeks they were (barely) able to attend the zoom meeting. Hopefully they will all recover and not end up with “long covid.”

As far as I can determine, the vaccines are doing exactly what they have always been advertised to do – minimize the severity of the disease, thereby minimizing hospitalizations and death. There has never been a claim that vaccinations will reduce the likelihood of infection, just that they will reduce the severity once infected. A similar claim has been made about masks and distancing. Masks definitely help minimize the potential for spreading the virus, but are not very effective against becoming infected. Distancing (to the point of quarantining) is the only real way to prevent infection. Distancing, but not so much in situations where anyone in the vicinity is mask-less (or not wearing it properly). My personal guess is that “distancing” means several feet outdoors, and it means that there has been nobody in a for several hours (no matter how large). The reason for avoiding all indoor spaces is that viruses “ride” on aerosols, and aerosols very quickly fill up a room of almost any size – and stick around for hours. A person wearing a mask less effective than a properly fitted N95 will spread large quantities of aerosols. I think we are seeing the impacts of this route of transmission in the new spike in infections.

My personal “take” on all this is that it is a bit scary to consider that I probably WILL catch it rather than MIGHT catch it. (Who knows, the “cold” and achy joints that my wife and I experienced a couple of weeks ago might well have been “it”.) Apparently there are now a lot of false negatives in the testing, so even getting a “negative” test doesn’t prove much.

However, it is sort of comforting to think that when I do catch it, the symptoms will be tolerable since I am fully vaccinated and in relatively good health. I am going to continue to postpone the onset of infection as long as I can by reducing my exposure to people as much as is practical – knowing that there are still going to be some exposures in order to carry on daily living. I will continue to wear a mask in public in the hopes of reducing the peaks of infections, thus minimizing the load on the medical system (just like in the “old days” of 2021 – reduce the peak even while knowing that eventually almost everyone will get it). I am disheartened that so many people are being self-centered in their choices of actions (no vaccinations, no masks, no distancing, no common sense protections), rather than coming together as a group in an attempt to weather this pandemic as best as we can. It is a global problem that requires a global solution. I had hoped that people could realize that we are all connected and interdependent, and therefore work together against a common problem – but apparently that isn’t how people work.

Earth Mother

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I was invited to an all-night Native American ceremony held in a teepee on the night of a full moon.  The site selected for the ceremony was in the mountains of Northern California, not too far from the snowcapped Mount Shasta.  There were about 25 people in attendance, sitting on the ground in a circle facing the fire in the center of the teepee.  These ceremonies are an opportunity to spend the night singing, praying, and talking about emotional or physical ailments that could use some medicine and healing.

During the middle of the night during the ceremony, nature called so I went outside to relieve myself and to stretch my aching legs after sitting for several hours on the dirt facing the hot and bright fire in the center of the teepee.  When I got outside I found it to be a marvelous and beautiful scene.  The ceremony was being held in a large green meadow, surrounded by a dense pine forest.  The night was crystal clear, with a gorgeous full moon lighting up the surroundings.  The teepee glowed a mellow orange color, showing the outlines of people’s shadows as they continued the songs as I enjoyed the view and peaceful mood.

After a while I noticed a girl coming toward me across the meadow.  I had noticed her earlier in the teepee, but hadn’t seen her leave.  She must have taken a break about the same time that I did.  She was coming toward me in a way that made it obvious that she was going to give me a hug.  I am normally a great fan of hugs, but in this case I was hesitant because I had judged her to be a hippy, nature girl who would likely have body smells that I wouldn’t find pleasing.  She was very nice looking, but dressed in the clothes of the Northern California hippy earth mothers.  I enjoy talking to these hippy people, but sometimes their odor can get pretty overpowering.

In this case I decided that I had no choice, so I just resigned myself to the experience.  When we embraced in a big hug I first noticed that I was correct, she smelled “natural” without the normal chemical perfume smells that I had grown used to in town.  However, it wasn’t a bad smell – just different.  As I stood there contemplating the aroma, I noticed that I could detect the smells of her kitchen.  She smelled like freshly ground whole wheat, herbs and natural things from the forest.  It was very intoxicating in an interesting way, it made me think that she smelled like people are supposed to smell. It caught my attention and forced me to feel our humanity.

My imagination turned to what it must have been to live with native people who didn’t have any access to the soaps, deodorants, and perfumes so prevalent in our society.  I found that I really liked the experience.  I started to feel like I was connected to this lady in an oddly energetic way, we seemed to form a single entity.  That feeling of unity seemed to spread out from us into the field, then into the forest and nearby river.  Finally, it felt like I was physically connected to the entire world and all of humanity.  It was a really peaceful, powerful, and all-encompassing experience of the oneness of myself, that lady and all of nature.  There were no boundaries or divisions – just peace and an overwhelming feeling of love.  Not love for the girl, or lust, or anything like that. Rather, it was a pure and simple physical feeling inside of me of love – not of being in love, but being love. 

I have no idea how long we stood like that in the meadow; probably not very long.  I also have no idea if she experienced anything like I did, it didn’t seem appropriate or necessary to ask her.   There was a little break in the music that was an indication that we could enter and rejoin the group.   We both went back to our original positions among the others.

The rest of the night continued to be a joy for me.  The feeling of bliss and love stayed strong through that night, and through the next week.  For the first time, I spent the rest of the night with absolutely no pain or discomfort.  I was perfectly content to just sit and listen to the songs and prayers, adding mine when appropriate.  When the sky started to lighten, indicating the approach of dawn, I felt a little disappointment that it soon would be over and I would soon be back to “normal” – rather than sitting in the incredible state of blissful connectedness with the universe.

A few hours later, during the traditional noon feast, I found time to chat with that girl and tell her how her hug had turned the night around for me, and thank her for doing so.  I also mentioned that I was disappointed that the experience was bound to dissipate in due time and probably won’t happen again.  She smiled nicely, and said that the feeling might go away, until she comes to find me again someday.   I wonder in what future lifetime that might happen.

Spiritual Burial

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The weekend had been set aside to perform an all-night Native American Church ceremony on my property.  However, as I looked more into that I got “cold feet” because of the use of Peyote in the ceremony.  Not that I have a problem with the Peyote, but because of the legal implications of having a bunch of people over to my house to use an illegal drug.  The Indians have certain exemptions for its use, but it wasn’t clear to me that I would be protected by those exemptions.  However, since my Toltec friends and I had already set the time aside we decided to perform a Mother Earth healing ceremony instead.

The ceremony was to be a burial event where we would spend the night in shallow “graves.”  Our first task was to dig the graves.  We each picked out a spot and dug a long, shallow hole just big enough to lie down in and turn over in the night.  The dirt was hard clay soil and rather difficult to dig.  There were no rocks, but the dirt needed to be loosened with a pick, or a lot of hard effort on the shovel.  The hole was a whole lot more difficult to dig than it would have been when I was 50!  This was the first major lesson of the night, my body is changing and I will no longer be able to do things as easily as I had in the past.

We were supposed to have written a “will” before the event, which I forgot to do.  The will was not something about how to distribute goods after death, but rather a thing telling those that are left behind what we wanted to tell them, but never did.  It was to be in the form of thank you notes, apologies, or whatever else seemed right.  I worked on mine in my head while I dug the hole. I came up with some things concerning my children and my wife about how I have been ignoring them, or at least not giving them the attention and showing them my love in a way that I would have liked. 

We finally got our holes dug, and covered them with boards, covering the boards with dirt so that we could be entirely enclosed in the earth.  This took us most of the afternoon; the set up was done just before sunset.  We sat in a field and watched the sun go down, meditating as the sun set.  While doing this we were to meditate upon what we wanted to let die in our graves and what we wanted to allow to be re-born in the morning.

One of my current problems at that time was associated with my making assumptions about why people do what they do, and then acting on those assumptions as if they were somehow real.  This had been bothering me because it so often results in my doing inappropriate things in response, and just makes the whole issue of being clear with others that much more difficult.  Inevitably the other person does the same, making assumptions about what I am thinking in order to act the way that I do.  We just keep spinning further and further apart. 

Because of this, what I wanted to let die was my habit of making assumptions about what others are thinking and acting on those assumptions as if they are the truth.  I might make some tentative guesses, but need to check them out before I think I know the truth.  I intended to be reborn with the ability to just let them be without making the assumptions.  I want to respond to what I actually see rather than what I imagine.

The four us who were to be “buried” oriented our holes in the four directions, with a fire at the center.  Bob was toward the north, Lauren to the east, Adriana to the south and I was in the west.  Everyone but me put their heads away from the fire; I aligned my head to the east – toward the fire.  My Native American friend, Irvine, later said that I had done the right thing.  Apparently there can be problems with sleeping with your head toward the west.

As dark came upon us, we started the fire and got ready for our night in the earth.  We each had sleeping bags, and the men had “pee bottles.”  I don’t know what Adriana planned on doing about that.  Adriana wanted to know what we should wear.  Ramin answered that the appropriate attire was as we were born since we would be “re-born” in the morning.  She wasn’t willing to do that so she changed into some sort of long sleeping garb.  I think the problem had more to do with lying with bugs than with being shy about being naked in the hole in the earth.  My choice was to wear only my underwear because I was concerned that otherwise it would get too warm.


A couple of the others were nervous about getting claustrophobic. I was confident that I wouldn’t have this reaction because I have always liked being in closed, confined spaces. That kind of situation seems to put me into a sound sleep.  I fully expected to sleep well that night.

It was finally time to crawl into our holes.  We each crawled into the space under the boards and Ramin covered the rest with dirt, leaving a small slit open at the head end for air.  I found that I was very sleepy.  Once we were all settled in, Ramin started to drum.  His job for the night was to sit up and watch over us, protecting us – helping if we needed help, keep; the fire burning – and drumming.  I heard very little of the drumming because almost as soon as he started I fell asleep. 

Some time later (I don’t know when because I didn’t have a clock), I woke up feeling like I was suffocating.  I started to panic, wanting to get out of my hole – but I couldn’t because I was covered with too much dirt to move.  I was hot, sweaty and breathing hard.  I crunched up closer to the air slit and decided that it was probably safe – even though I was still claustrophobic and wanted out.  I finally managed to relax myself again, and decided that I would just have to wait it out. 

The first bug to visit me crawled into my ear.  I tried to get it out, but it just went deeper.  When I tried to get it with my finger, it started going around and around inside of my ear canal.  That got my attention for a long time.  It finally either crawled back out, or stopped moving.  In either case, it stopped “bugging” me.  I was on top of my sleeping bag instead of inside of it because it was too hot and humid to stay inside.  Things started crawling over me.  It felt like spiders or something small moving the hairs on my legs.  They were too light to actually feel them walking on me, but I could definitely follow them because I could feel them in my body hair.  I thought about swatting them, but since I really couldn’t reach down because of the cramped space, I decided to just let them be – wondering if they were going to bite.

After a bit I got pretty thirsty, so I reached around to get my water bottle to get a drink.  As I did so, my arm cramped.  The sharp pain made me straighten it and hope that the cramp would go away.  It finally did and I found a way to use the other arm to get the water bottle.  However, it really started to worry me because I sometimes get really strong leg cramps that demand that I stand and walk on the leg to get the pain to go away.  I started to worry about what would happen if I got a big leg cramp.  This put me back into the claustrophobic mind set once again.  About that time my leg did start to cramp as if on cue.  I managed to get it positioned to let the cramp subside, knowing that I would have to be very careful about what position that I got into. 

After awhile I noticed that Adriana was up with Ramin. Apparently she had decided that she had enough time in the hole.  I rather envied her courage to just give in instead of stubbornly staying in the hole.  I could see a tiny bit of what was going on through my air slit.  Pretty soon she went to bed in her sleeping bag next to the fire, and Ramin resumed his vigil sitting and keeping the fire burning. 

After successfully peeing in my bottle while lying on my side, I started to think about what it must be like for people who are trapped in a collapsed building or that little girl who fell down the well shaft.  Those people would really have to find a mind place where they could just let it be.  Otherwise it would be absolute terror.  Being trapped and unable to move would be terrible.  I was not really trapped because I knew I could get out, and I could move; but it was still pretty scary. I spent a lot of time imagining how it would be to be trapped like that.  It was funny, but those thoughts brought me comfort.  I had it easy, what was I being so upset about?  All I had to do was relax and things would be just fine.  I finally did relax and fell back to sleep for awhile.  

The next thing that I was aware of was the rising sun streaming through my breathing slit into my hole.  It was really wonderful to all of a sudden be bathed in the light, and it felt like I was awakening again.  Maybe I even felt a little like being re-born.  It filled me with peace and comfort.  Pretty soon Ramin came by and unearthed me, so I could slide back out into the world and enjoy the new morning.  

Once we were all out and stretching, we did some little ceremonies and then filled our holes back in again. I wanted to go get the tractor to push the dirt back in, but Ramin said that part of the ceremony was in filling up the holes.  He was right, it was an important step – but it was once again painful and tiring.

I am still wondering what that night brought to me.  Was it an actual “rebirth”? Or was it just a long, uncomfortable night?  Did I learn something important?  How will I know?

Life as We Made It by Beth Shapiro

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This book is a fascinating dive into some of the major changes that people have caused to happen to many organisms (plant, animal and tiny) on the earth. It is interesting to consider how impactful we have been – both positively and negatively – to such a large part of the world’s flora, fauna and micro-organisms.

Shapiro describes many things that were surprising to me, such as the fact that “we” almost made the American Buffalo (Bison bison) go extinct twice – first the early Native Americans almost wiped them out starting about 15,000 years ago. The environment was taking a toll on the Bison, but so were the people who had found very imaginative (and effective) means of hunting them in very large numbers. The decline in the bison population was turned around when Conquistadors brought various plagues to the new world. The plagues in the form of smallpox, whooping cough, typhoid, scarlet fever and others quickly destroyed the long established human population – taking the pressure off of the buffalo. The buffalo quickly increased in numbers to something around 60 million by the middle of the eighteenth century. However, the early Europeans not only brought disease, they brought horses! That was the beginning of the second massive die-off of the buffalo. First the Native Americans got horses, vastly increasing their hunting efficiency – followed by Europeans that added guns to the mix. By the turn of the century (1905), the known buffalo population had been reduced to 125 animals, 25 in Yellowstone and around 100 on private property. Since that time, conservation efforts have brought them back from extinction, with around 500,000 alive today. Many (perhaps more than 50%) buffalo today have some cattle DNA so are actually hybrids.

Part I of the book discusses purposeful, and accidental, changes made by man for various reasons such as the creation of corn, dogs from wolves, etc., etc. These changes were almost all done using the techniques of selective breeding over long periods of time. And then there were all of the species that went extinct because of over hunting, changes we made to the environment, and other actions that directly or indirectly resulted in the inability of a species to maintain a breeding population.

The second part of the book, “The Way it Could Be” in the most troublesome to me. It discusses the things that we can change by either traditional means of selective breeding, or more recently gene editing techniques. I am rather appalled by Shapiro’s seemingly over-confidence that we can change species by editing genes within a species, or by introducing genes from other species, without causing unexpected, unintentional catastrophes. She points out many of the marvelous things that gene editing can accomplish. We now do things like add parts of jelly fish DNA into other fish that makes the fish glow in various colors when exposed to pollutants in the water. If you catch a yellow day-glow fish perhaps you might want to avoid adding it to you dinner.

There are thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, of “experiments” and “scientific studies” going on right now to find ways to “improve” upon the hand that “we” (the total community of organisms on the earth) have been given. Shapiro talks confidently that we always make sure that the changes are “safe” before introducing them into the wild (while also discussing instances where that has NOT be done), how we can always stop and backup our changes (also while discussing instances where that cannot be done), and that we know all about what we are actually doing when we change the DNA of an organization (when it is obvious that we often find “surprises” much later).

Shapiro is willing, and apparently anxious, to make small and potentially large, often unknown, changes in the name of solving some specific problem. I understand the value, importance, and how enticing it can be to have the power to solve so many problems with such a simple approach. It is so simple in fact that there are essentially no controls on what is allowed and allowable. There is nothing that prevents a scientist from introducing lasting changes to the gene pool of any species (including humans) with little or no oversight, testing or safety protocols. They can just “do it”, as was the case when He Jiankui, a biophysicist at Shenzhen’s Southern University of Science and Technology modified human embryos resulting in a pair of twin girls with “new” DNA. Assuming that these girls go on to be mothers, then these changes will become a part of “humanity” in the future. Not only did he make changes in the hopes of making the girls immune to HIV, but it turned out that he had inadvertently made additional changes that have unknown impacts. He could tweak those girl’s genetics, so he did. “Experimentation” is happening all around the world by perhaps tens of thousands of individuals, tweaking organisms because they can, hoping for find something good (and valuable) in the process.

It appears that we are too far into this brave new world of gene editing to change it at this point. CRISPR has been invented and it will be used for anything and everything that people can dream up, including all of the “accidents” that happen because they didn’t actually know what they were doing. I obviously have no idea where this might be leading – but from the risk point of view, it appears that it could lead to one or more of those “existential” events whereby humans go extinct, or perhaps a wide swatch of other species do so. We are already releasing animals into the wild that have their genes changed in ways that prevent all of the females to be sterile after a few generations. The changed genes get transmitted from generation to generation until it accumulates to a tipping point where sterility kicks in- quickly leading to extinction of that species. That certainly gets rid of pests, but at what cost?

Shapiro ends with a nice sounding prediction of the future that we will always be careful and will never intentionally, or accidentally, cause a global disaster. She points out that we are smart, ethical, and bound by our desire to only do what is good for all. She scoffs at those of us that see very dark clouds on the horizon of such unlimited power in the hands of “everyman.” Perhaps. Obviously the point of no-return has been passed decades ago – perhaps it is just a continuation from the last 40,000 or so years as suggested by Shapiro. This is once again a situation where I am inwardly pleased that at 75 years old I will be spared many of the obvious problems that are just over the horizon. I am sorry for what we have left for our children, grandchildren and the seven generations in the future that the Native Americans understand to be our immediate responsibility.

What does it mean to “be a man”?

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A few years ago I went to a Toltec “Summer Celebration” weekend retreat.  I have attended these kinds of events several times in the past few years, and always come home with a new understanding of something that I didn’t realize I didn’t understand.  This was to be the case again.

I managed to get tied up in traffic on the way to the retreat center, so showed up a bit late – and was told that I should join the ongoing “men’s group” taking place on the grass near the dry creek near the meeting rooms.  I usually avoid “men’s group” activities because I find that they are often too exclusionary and unbalanced in their approach and discussions.  However, in the spirit of participating in whatever came my way for the weekend, I joined and participated as much as I could without dominating the conversations (one of my personal faults). 

The main points being discussed were how we came to our personal understanding of what it means to be a man.  There were a lot of interesting stories of growing up with stern fathers, absent fathers, weak fathers, and fathers like mine who participated, but with a very clear separation of male-female roles.  I explained that I learned a lot about how to be a “man” from my mother.  She would take the time to discuss the topic and to point out examples of what she meant.  I found this quite helpful since my father was not one for talking about anything personal.  He would talk freely about all sorts of “man things” such as fishing or boat building, but not about how he felt unless it was when he was in a rage, and all that came across then was that he was angry.

I found the stories to be interesting, but not particularly captivating, so I just sat back and let my mind wander.  It wandered to a place of new insight.  As I sat on the grassy hill in the shade of an oak tree, I slowly came to understand that I was taught that there is a clear-cut, and strict, demarcation between men’s and women’s responsibilities with regard to family life and relationships.  Men work and bring home the money.  Men do the “manly chores” involving tools and heavy labor.  They are also the ultimate disciplinarians. Mom would say things like, “if you don’t do so and so I will tell your father when he gets home.”  The threat of stern action and possible violence was obvious.  This rarely occurred because the threat worked for me.  Women tend the yard, fix the meals, take care and play with the kids, socialize the kids, deal with kids and school issues, keep track of household budgets, and bring whatever beauty there is into the house.  The list of male and female tasks is quite long, but had very little overlap in my family.

As I sat there thinking about this and my relationship with my wife and children I realized that I had agreed with it implicitly.  What I had been taught was so obviously true that it didn’t even rise to the point of requiring consideration or discussion.  How else could it be?  Listening to the other men in the group describe their upbringing made it clear that there are an infinite number of ways that it could be, my way was just one in a sea of possibilities. 

I have always felt that I had somehow transcended my strict male-female role upbringing.  I do many things that my father categorized as “women’s work.”  This includes things like changing diapers (although I avoid this with my grandsons), washing dishes, ironing clothes, food shopping, cleaning toilets, etc.  I also do the manly tasks of making the bulk of the family income, working on cars, cutting firewood, mowing lawns and building fences.  Because I find myself doing these “cross-gender” tasks, I felt that I was somehow a “liberated” man – and my wife is a liberated woman because she also shares by doing many of the “manly” tasks.  We were a balanced family, each sharing the tasks as they came up.

However, as I sat and looked more closely at my life, I came to understand that while I did these womanly tasks, I did them to “help” my wife with her work.  I did them, but I didn’t “own” them.  They weren’t my jobs; they were her jobs.  I was generous enough to assist, but expected a “thank you” in return and maybe even a little bonus such as a special meal, back rub, or some personal time off.  When she helps by doing the male tasks, I felt the same – she was doing me a favor and needed a special “thanks” or something in return – often in the form of an exchange of tasks.

How odd I thought; all of these years I had been thinking that I was sharing the tasks with my wife, only to find out that I was just helping out. In reality I was still following and agreeing with the divisions that my parents had taught me in the early 50’s based upon what they had been taught when they were young during the ‘20s. 

It became clear to me that the tasks to be done are both of ours, not hers and mine unless we have specifically decided to divide some for our own personal reasons.  I feel like I have shifted my understanding of the male-female roles in our family, but will have to wait and see how much has actually changed and how much remains the same.  I don’t know if I will be able to shift my point of view and fully take on the jobs as truly shared responsibilities, but I do know that I will now recognize them as old agreements when they come up.  At least I am now in a position to better see and understand what I am doing when I am doing it.

These revelations brought an understanding of my intent for the weekend into clear focus.  I realized now that for me the purpose of the weekend retreat was to explore the relationship between my wife and myself, to get a better understanding of how we interact and what expectations I bring to our marriage.  I got a vague understanding of this purpose as I said goodbye to her on Friday morning.  It seemed that her attitude was one of resentment and feeling that I was doing something very selfish to leave her at home for the weekend while I went off to play with my Toltec friends.  There was of course some truth to this judgment, but there is also the truth that I am trying to find my path in my life, and share what I find with her.  While I am being selfish with my studies, I also see that what I am learning is helping our relationship in many ways – hopefully, there is also a mutually beneficial aspect to my studies. 

When “breakout sessions” were announced on the following day, I elected to join a group that was discussing relationships, including marriages.  The group was composed of couples, and myself.  I was a “couple” in my mind that weekend since I was specifically focused on that issue. 

The group started off a little slowly with everyone wondering what to say and how to start.  I decided to bring up my concern of the weekend, which was that I was being confused about how to follow my spiritual path while maintaining a solid relationship with my wife, considering that her preference is to not join me in my “fun and games” in group work.  I honor her desire to not join me (maybe in large part because she doesn’t want to interfere with what I am doing), knowing that she is progressing along her path side-by-side with me in her own way.  However, I have problems with feeling guilty about leaving her behind, and that she lets me know that it is her opinion that I am being selfish in doing so.

The first response to my concern was from a guy who I had judged to be a silent watcher, rather than a talker.  He told me that it sounded to him like we didn’t communicate enough.  He described a process that he and his wife do once a week.  He called it their “sacred hour.”  The crux of it is that once a week they set aside an hour to be with each other. One person talks for 20 minutes, uninterrupted by the other; then they switch; then they dialogue about whatever comes up for the final 20 minutes.  He said it was a powerful tool for allowing each to think of what they want to say to the other, and the other to just sit back and listen without having to think of a response.

The leader of the group then made the recommendation that when I get home to ask my wife what she did while I was gone.  My immediate reaction is that of course I would do that, I always ask her about what she did while I was gone.  However, in this instance I just accepted that recommendation and waited to see what else would unfold during the weekend.  There were a lot of other events of interest, but no more that seemed to specifically address my concerns.

On the way home I continued to think about communicating and letting my wife tell me what she had done, rather than trying to have a discussion with her.  I remembered all of those times when people have exclaimed how important it is to “listen,” “listen actively,” “pay attention” and other phrases indicating that there was some way to listen “harder” than I normally do.  I have never been able to figure out how to do that because I already listen as hard as I can.  I try to hear what is being said, try to line it up with my experiences so I can maybe “feel” what it feels like to be saying what they are saying and try to figure out how to respond in a meaningful and compassionate way.  I don’t know how to do this any harder, or with more intent.

Then it dawned on me.  I realized that I was listening so “hard” that I wasn’t listening at all!  My normal listening style is that I let the speaker talk a little bit until I think I understand where they are headed (which is often correct, but also often incorrect). Then I start thinking about myself in an attempt to find something in my life that is similar so that when I respond it is with empathy and understanding.  At that point I kind of stop listening carefully, rather I begin thinking (about myself).  My wife often tells me how rude this is, but I don’t get it because I am trying my hardest to be the total opposite of rude, I am trying to be attentive, empathetic and compassionate. It seemed what is missing is honor and respect, honoring the other by allowing them to fully express themselves before I once again start thinking of myself.

I decided to try an experiment when I got home.  I decided to hold the image of honoring my wife while letting her explain to me what she had done and how her weekend went.  I decided not to try to do anything, just honor her.  When I got home, she spent a couple of hours telling me about her weekend; I spent a couple of hours just letting her talk about all that had gone on.  When she seemed satisfied that she had said what she wanted to say, I asked if she would be interested in hearing about my weekend – which she was.  I told her about the important things that had transpired and then we just talked for a bit.  It felt like all of the anger, jealousy and disrespect had melted away from her, and the guilt had gone from me.

I then got one of the shocks of my life. She said that I had just done one of the most romantic things that I had ever done for her!!!  Romantic? Wow, that was the last thing that I thought I was doing.  I thought I was just honoring her as an equal, a partner and a friend.  In fact, it immediately turned my entire understanding of the term “romantic” on its head.  I have always thought that being romantic was something I had to work at, but never had a clue about how to do it.  I would buy flowers, candy, take my lady friends to dinner and a show, all in the hopes of being “romantic.”  I was confused because none of these things seem to end up being “romantic.”  Fun – maybe.  Flattering – possibly.  Expensive – usually.  Romantic – never.  The romantic thing seems to be to honor a woman by letting her express herself, and then to respond to her, rather than to myself.  This seems simple enough, but I apparently missed the point for the past sixty or so years.

Since then I have been remembering to keep my mind in a place of honoring those that I am talking to, and find that it feels so much better.  It takes the work out of listening, letting me just enjoy them and respond in ways that are guided by them.   Of course, I still slip up now and then, finding myself back in my old habits – but I notice them and try to just relax and let it be.   

Should it be legal to plead guilty?

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This morning I find myself mulling over the question of whether or not it should be legal for the judicial system to accept a plead of guilty as proof positive of guilt. Television “cop” programs often include a segment showing someone pleading guilty to a lessor charge to the original one as the path of least risk for the suspect, and least cost for the District Attorney (DA). The suspect “wins” because they don’t face the risk of losing their defense case with a much harsher punishment. They are faced with questions such as “is 5 years in prison better than the rest of my life?” – they have to make a decision about how likely it is to get convicted even though they are innocent. The State wins because they don’t have to spend the time and money associated with “proving” guilt. This is an apparent “win-win” for all involved – but is it? Is this actually a common event in “real life?” My understanding is that it is common, especially for people that do not have the resources to effectively mount a defense. Currently, about 95% of convictions are based upon guilty pleas, and almost 15% of the people who are exonerated pleaded guilty. What we don’t know is how many of the 95% that pleaded guilty were actually innocent, but the research indicates it is probably around 10% of those that pleaded guilty were actually innocent, and since almost all convictions are obtained by confessions, perhaps 10% of those in prisons are innocent. However, since very few are exonerated the actual percentages are unknown. What is known is that at least 10,000 innocent people are in prison at any given time.

Assuming that falsely pleading guilty in order to minimize the risk of a much more severe punishment happens, does this help, or harm, society? It seems pretty clear that when this happens justice has been knocked out of alignment in major ways. Obviously the original offense was either not true, or the reduced one after the plea bargain was false. The person either did the bad thing and “deserves” the punishment (assuming the punishments actually align with “justice”), or they didn’t. If they actually did the lessor thing, then the original charge was false. It appears that the introduction of the more severe charge was more along the lines of a threat, rather than an understanding that the charge was valid. My most generous interpretation of this is that the police (and DA) believe the suspect is guilty of the lessor charge, but want to avoid the high cost of actually “proving” it with objective evidence. Therefore, they make up a more severe change in the hopes that the suspect will confess to the crime that they actually committed – saving a great deal of time and money. However, it also has the obvious potential for incarcerating innocent people based upon their desire to reduce risks of a severe punishment rather than upon solid, objective evidence. This is clearly a problem based upon the numbers of people that get exonerated by organizations such as the Innocent Project that has helped about 400 innocent people get released from prison, many after spending decades in prison. These are usually high profile cases that were cleared because of DNA test results. How many “less important” cases exist that are based upon false confessions but no refutable exonerating evidence because the case never came to trial with no evidence to refute?

I wonder if we shouldn’t always require criminal cases be competently and completely tried. Maybe we should consider a person innocent until proven guilty. Perhaps confessions should be inadmissible as evidence – not only should everyone have a fifth amendment right to not be required to “be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself”, but no allowed to be a witness against himself. Every case should require evidence as “proof” of innocence under the assumption that everyone is innocent until proven guilty – and history shows that confessions are not necessarily proof, or true.

I don’t have good data concerning how prevalent this problem is in our justice system, but it is very clear that it isn’t unknown, or particularly rare. It seems to me that this is an important area to research to find out how big of a problem it actually is, and then find solutions (perhaps along the lines of my recommendation). It is unconscionable for innocent people to be convicted of a crime just because they are terrified by the possibility of being convicted of a much worse crime (that they also didn’t do) because of a lack in trust of the judicial system.