It's time to come clean. I'm in a twelve step program. I'm a recovering new ager, and I'm taking reality one day at a time.
I was seriously addicted during the 70s and 80s. In fact I went back to college and got a BS in Numinology, followed by a masters in holistic geology, and finally a doctorate in astropsychics.
I was convinced that one could have everything one could imagine just by meditating on it, picturing it, visualizing myself having it. There was the beachfront mansion in Pebble Beach, the new Mercedes, the forty-foot yacht, the perfect trophy wife. The great thing was that I didn't have to work hard or study or make any effort. It was like, visualize and chant and be one with the abundance of the universe, and these things would just materialize.
And the best part was that if I win, no one else would lose. It was all about abundance: everything for everybody, every time, forever. Scarcity was a fiction made up in the unenlightened minds of the up tight and totally uncool.
I also believed that all you need is love, so if some crazies were trying to bomb the building I worked in, I just had to love them unconditionally, and they'd put away their explosives and join me, arm in arm, for a rousing rendition of Kumbaya. We were all children of the universe, all children of a benign god whose only purpose was to make us feel good.
It did help if we were stoned, as then we would feel like we were all merged into one universal being.
Still, after two decades of this bliss I woke up in a flea infested apartment in a lousy neighborhood, with threadbare furniture and a landlord bugging me for the rent. Maybe it wasn't all that bad, but it was a long way from that mansion in Pebble Beach. My Mercedes was a 15 year old motorcycle, and I froze my butt off in the winter. I did have the feeling of oneness with many women, most of whom never told me their names and often emptied my wallet before sneaking out in the middle of the night.
Well, I go to meetings now. I know that the universe doesn't know me or give a damn about whether I live or die. Most people are out for number one, and if I'm not, I'm going to be taken for a sucker. I shake hands with my right hand, while my left is clamped on my wallet, and the only way I'm going to get out of debt is to work my ass off at a boring job for ten hours a day for an idiot boss.
It's been seventeen years, eight months and fourteen days, but sometimes I miss it.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Saving a gopher snake
Back when I was a recent transplant to Northern California and still had social roots in the Lost Angeles, Orangeless County megaslopolis, I would make several trips south per year to spend a few days with friends. And, since freeways become boring after the second trip, I usually opted for Highway One, rather than 101 or, worse yet, I-5.
Highway One, for those unfamiliar, isn't an unbroken string. Going south, it merges with the 101 at San Luis Obispo, and separates again at Pismo Beach, some 15 miles south. The roads combine again from Gaviota to Oxnard.
It was early on a spring weekday, so the road wasn't crowded, and that charming wooded section from Arroyo Grande to Nipomo was still mostly rural, with scattered homes nestled among the trees. I had driven through Pismo and on to Grover Beach, in that sandy depression between the Pismo Dunes and the Arroyo Grande hills, the place where the fruit stand in spring has the world's or maybe the universe's best strawberries. So, with a flat of berries on the seat beside me, I started up the long grade out of that little valley and toward wooded Nipomo.
About half way up the grade, I saw a hawk fluttering just above the road. He was obviously excited about something, so I slowed down to see. There in front of me was the biggest gopher snake I'd ever seen. It must have been six and perhaps seven feet long, and it was trying very slowly to cross the road, while the hawk was waiting for me to pass so it could pounce.
It didn't seem right. The road that we put there, places an unfair advantage with the hawk. There is no cover for the snake, so it is a sitting duck, or more accurately a sitting snake. I figured the neighborly thing to do was to keep the hawk at bay until the snake crossed the road, thus leveling the playing field. At that point, if the hawk got lucky, it was the natural order of things.
The snake was moving much too slowly for someone being pursued, so I bent down for a closer look, in fact I looked the snake in the eye, a watery, rather dull eye. Then I noticed how it moved, stiffly and with slightly jerky movements. Adding those observations to its incredible size, it struck me that this was one very old snake. Judging from the look of it, had it been human, I'd be looking at a ninety year old. The poor thing was arthritic.
Well, my car was blocking the highway, and I stood guard for the longest time until the poor reptile finally made the thick brush on the side of the road. Then I got back in the car and drove off, watching, in my rear view mirrow, the hawk fluttering just above the brush, knowing I'd done my good deed for the day and armed with a better attitude toward my destination.
Highway One, for those unfamiliar, isn't an unbroken string. Going south, it merges with the 101 at San Luis Obispo, and separates again at Pismo Beach, some 15 miles south. The roads combine again from Gaviota to Oxnard.
It was early on a spring weekday, so the road wasn't crowded, and that charming wooded section from Arroyo Grande to Nipomo was still mostly rural, with scattered homes nestled among the trees. I had driven through Pismo and on to Grover Beach, in that sandy depression between the Pismo Dunes and the Arroyo Grande hills, the place where the fruit stand in spring has the world's or maybe the universe's best strawberries. So, with a flat of berries on the seat beside me, I started up the long grade out of that little valley and toward wooded Nipomo.
About half way up the grade, I saw a hawk fluttering just above the road. He was obviously excited about something, so I slowed down to see. There in front of me was the biggest gopher snake I'd ever seen. It must have been six and perhaps seven feet long, and it was trying very slowly to cross the road, while the hawk was waiting for me to pass so it could pounce.
It didn't seem right. The road that we put there, places an unfair advantage with the hawk. There is no cover for the snake, so it is a sitting duck, or more accurately a sitting snake. I figured the neighborly thing to do was to keep the hawk at bay until the snake crossed the road, thus leveling the playing field. At that point, if the hawk got lucky, it was the natural order of things.
The snake was moving much too slowly for someone being pursued, so I bent down for a closer look, in fact I looked the snake in the eye, a watery, rather dull eye. Then I noticed how it moved, stiffly and with slightly jerky movements. Adding those observations to its incredible size, it struck me that this was one very old snake. Judging from the look of it, had it been human, I'd be looking at a ninety year old. The poor thing was arthritic.
Well, my car was blocking the highway, and I stood guard for the longest time until the poor reptile finally made the thick brush on the side of the road. Then I got back in the car and drove off, watching, in my rear view mirrow, the hawk fluttering just above the brush, knowing I'd done my good deed for the day and armed with a better attitude toward my destination.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
my Financial Advisor
Like most of you, I'm concerned about the economy, and like most of you, my main concern is how can I get mine before there's none left to get.
I've tried reading financial experts, economists, business leaders, government regulators, but they often contradict each other, leaving the economic novice, like myself, even more confused than ever. Well, some time ago, I found the perfect solution in an infallible expert.
My expert is Old Bert. Old Bert is a homeless wino living on the streets of San Francisco, sleeping the doorway of a deserted warehouse, and hanging out on Market Street. For a handful of coins, I get the best advice in the country.
You see, unlike all the experts who seem to make stuff up as they go along, Old Bert has a real system, a tried and true method of predicting economic ups and downs. Once, when I caught up with him before he lapsed into his daily alcoholic stupor, he explained his system. This was based on what he received from passers by.
It's not just the total amount of money he can beg in a day, it's the number and denomination of the coins, the mix handed to him by various people, based on simply demographics. He has a matrix based on three variables: male/female, young/old, rich/poor. So you have combinations such as rich old woman, poor young man, etc.
The day after he got a mix of nickels and pennies from one old guy, the Dow dropped 200 points. The day after he got a five spot from a college aged woman was the market's best day in two years.
Anyway, I've learned to take his advice, when he's coherent enough to understand, and each stock tip he's given me has paid off handsomely.
Last week I went to see him, and he was sprawled out in the gutter, covered with soiled copies of the Chronicle. When I asked him what was in store, he looked up, blurry eyed, and said, "If youse got some money, go stuff it in you mattress, if youse even got one of them. Then horde food. This year, whatever year this is, is gonna be a tough one."
I've tried reading financial experts, economists, business leaders, government regulators, but they often contradict each other, leaving the economic novice, like myself, even more confused than ever. Well, some time ago, I found the perfect solution in an infallible expert.
My expert is Old Bert. Old Bert is a homeless wino living on the streets of San Francisco, sleeping the doorway of a deserted warehouse, and hanging out on Market Street. For a handful of coins, I get the best advice in the country.
You see, unlike all the experts who seem to make stuff up as they go along, Old Bert has a real system, a tried and true method of predicting economic ups and downs. Once, when I caught up with him before he lapsed into his daily alcoholic stupor, he explained his system. This was based on what he received from passers by.
It's not just the total amount of money he can beg in a day, it's the number and denomination of the coins, the mix handed to him by various people, based on simply demographics. He has a matrix based on three variables: male/female, young/old, rich/poor. So you have combinations such as rich old woman, poor young man, etc.
The day after he got a mix of nickels and pennies from one old guy, the Dow dropped 200 points. The day after he got a five spot from a college aged woman was the market's best day in two years.
Anyway, I've learned to take his advice, when he's coherent enough to understand, and each stock tip he's given me has paid off handsomely.
Last week I went to see him, and he was sprawled out in the gutter, covered with soiled copies of the Chronicle. When I asked him what was in store, he looked up, blurry eyed, and said, "If youse got some money, go stuff it in you mattress, if youse even got one of them. Then horde food. This year, whatever year this is, is gonna be a tough one."
Saturday, January 23, 2010
my two cents worth, literally
About a week before the democrats lost Ted Kennedy's seat in a democratic stronghold, the national committee sent me a survey, which naturally included a plea for a large check to help President Obama continue the good work.
I don't know if my thinking, as I filled out the survey, was anything like the the thinking of a typical voter in Mass., but I do know we shared some level of dissatisfaction, not that voting for the no-new-taxes-on-big-business republican would remotely help our current situation.
I answered all the questions, rating Obama's performance on a scale from outstanding to poor. Mostly I rated him fair, poor on a couple of points, such as the ongoing wars. I think I gave him one good rating, and that was probably a question about the environment.
Overall, if I could translate my answers into a grade, it would have been a C-. I gave the national committee my two cents worth, and I even covered the two cents, placing two pennies in the envelope instead of the large check they asked for.
Yes, Obama inherited a mess, but that's the point of my dissatisfaction. Bush gave tax breaks to the wealthy and the big corporations, then started two wars of choice (neither country actually attacked us, and Iraq didn't even have weapons of mass destruction) and in the process ran the country into massive debt, while allowing Wall street to run amok until we almost landed in another great depression.
The whole point of voting for Obama was to change all that, to do an about face, a hard 180. Instead, he ramps up these wars of choice, leaving us in an open-ended commitment, while still not raising the money to pay for them.
Although Obama is talking tough to the financial sector now, it's a bit late. Before the bailout, these people were on the ropes and were manageable. He should have told them they had to accept new regulations, with the idea that only then can we talk bailout. He handed out taxpayer money to these folks with no strings attached, throwing us further in debt.
In the middle of the expense and the chaos of the financial meltdown and the wars, he tried to reform health care. Bad timing, which is being reflected in the poor chances of any meaningful reform actually taking place. And the public option? What public option?
Sure people are turning away from the President's policies. Unemployment is high, and people are losing their jobs. At the same time billions are being poured into the middle east and into the pockets of bankers. It feels like I voted for a republican.
I don't know if my thinking, as I filled out the survey, was anything like the the thinking of a typical voter in Mass., but I do know we shared some level of dissatisfaction, not that voting for the no-new-taxes-on-big-business republican would remotely help our current situation.
I answered all the questions, rating Obama's performance on a scale from outstanding to poor. Mostly I rated him fair, poor on a couple of points, such as the ongoing wars. I think I gave him one good rating, and that was probably a question about the environment.
Overall, if I could translate my answers into a grade, it would have been a C-. I gave the national committee my two cents worth, and I even covered the two cents, placing two pennies in the envelope instead of the large check they asked for.
Yes, Obama inherited a mess, but that's the point of my dissatisfaction. Bush gave tax breaks to the wealthy and the big corporations, then started two wars of choice (neither country actually attacked us, and Iraq didn't even have weapons of mass destruction) and in the process ran the country into massive debt, while allowing Wall street to run amok until we almost landed in another great depression.
The whole point of voting for Obama was to change all that, to do an about face, a hard 180. Instead, he ramps up these wars of choice, leaving us in an open-ended commitment, while still not raising the money to pay for them.
Although Obama is talking tough to the financial sector now, it's a bit late. Before the bailout, these people were on the ropes and were manageable. He should have told them they had to accept new regulations, with the idea that only then can we talk bailout. He handed out taxpayer money to these folks with no strings attached, throwing us further in debt.
In the middle of the expense and the chaos of the financial meltdown and the wars, he tried to reform health care. Bad timing, which is being reflected in the poor chances of any meaningful reform actually taking place. And the public option? What public option?
Sure people are turning away from the President's policies. Unemployment is high, and people are losing their jobs. At the same time billions are being poured into the middle east and into the pockets of bankers. It feels like I voted for a republican.
Monday, January 18, 2010
War
War has been a fact of life since our distant ancestors stood upright and realized that their hands were now free to hold rocks. While eventually, we may evolve beyond war, it isn't going to happen in the foreseeable future.
That said, what do we do with the mess we're in today? We have two wars going on, and there seems no end in sight. At the same time, we are, as a nation, in debt one and a half trillion bucks. And, no, none of us can wrap our heads around that number.
Being a simple person, I have a simple solution: a war tax. If we're going to dash out and make war, we shouldn't wrap it in a sugar pill, leaving the bitter taste for some future generation. If we have a war now, we should pay now.
When congress votes money for a war, that should automatically include a tax, starting that same day, a tax on every wage earner, every business and corporation, every pension.
This would accomplish three things. It would remove the disconnect between the war and its repercussions on our economy. It would also pay as we go, rather than ratcheting up a debt that will have us paying interest for generations. Finally, watching that money disappear from each paycheck may cause us to stop and ask ourselves if this is a necessary war.
Americans are willing to pay for a necessary war, but maybe not for one of choice.
That said, what do we do with the mess we're in today? We have two wars going on, and there seems no end in sight. At the same time, we are, as a nation, in debt one and a half trillion bucks. And, no, none of us can wrap our heads around that number.
Being a simple person, I have a simple solution: a war tax. If we're going to dash out and make war, we shouldn't wrap it in a sugar pill, leaving the bitter taste for some future generation. If we have a war now, we should pay now.
When congress votes money for a war, that should automatically include a tax, starting that same day, a tax on every wage earner, every business and corporation, every pension.
This would accomplish three things. It would remove the disconnect between the war and its repercussions on our economy. It would also pay as we go, rather than ratcheting up a debt that will have us paying interest for generations. Finally, watching that money disappear from each paycheck may cause us to stop and ask ourselves if this is a necessary war.
Americans are willing to pay for a necessary war, but maybe not for one of choice.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Review: The Faith Instinct
Nicholas Wade cleared up a mystery for me. The more I read about and thought about religion, the more trouble I had understanding how educated people could overlook the inconsistencies and contradictions in their religions and simply accept them uncritically as a given, Modern scholarship and science would seem to make traditional religion obsolete, yet it thrives.
Wade's, The Faith Instinct: How religion evolved and why it endures offers a fascinating theory: The tendency toward religious belief has genetically evolved as an adaptive mechanism to help early human societies survive. Early belief in supernatural agencies, along with the associated rituals, made early hunter gather bands more cohesive, giving them the sense of community necessary to work together for their mutual benefit and to make them willing to risk their lives for the group during the many wars that have always been a fact of life.
Wade supports his argument with references from biology, sociology, anthropology and historic scholarship, quoting sources like Edward O. Wilson, Richard Dawkins, Charles Darwin, Samuel Huntington, Emile Durkheim and the Bible.
While neither supporting or denigrating religion, Wade systematically spells out how it has had survival benefits, which continue to operate into modern times. He traces the evolution of religion, using early studies of isolated, primitive tribes, historical accounts of how new religions developed from older ones and the evolution from preliterate rituals to modern text based faiths.
The issue of group selection was a sticking point, with many biologists arguing against the idea that natural selection could operate at the group, rather than the individual level. However, it does seem that group selection need not be proposed for hunter gathers willing to risk their lives in warfare. A warrior does not fight assuming he will die, and in fact the majority survive. However, a brave warrior elevates his status, allowing him more opportunities to mate and pass on his genes to the next generation. War heroes make attractive mates.
While scholarship is divided on many of the points Wade raises, he makes a coherent case for the evolutionary benefits of religion, while illuminating its history, without addressing the thorny issue of the existence or non-existence of supernatural beings.
In the end I came away with a broader and deeper understanding of the issue, and that's the best thing one can say about a book. I consider this a must read for anyone interested in the subject of religion.
Wade's, The Faith Instinct: How religion evolved and why it endures offers a fascinating theory: The tendency toward religious belief has genetically evolved as an adaptive mechanism to help early human societies survive. Early belief in supernatural agencies, along with the associated rituals, made early hunter gather bands more cohesive, giving them the sense of community necessary to work together for their mutual benefit and to make them willing to risk their lives for the group during the many wars that have always been a fact of life.
Wade supports his argument with references from biology, sociology, anthropology and historic scholarship, quoting sources like Edward O. Wilson, Richard Dawkins, Charles Darwin, Samuel Huntington, Emile Durkheim and the Bible.
While neither supporting or denigrating religion, Wade systematically spells out how it has had survival benefits, which continue to operate into modern times. He traces the evolution of religion, using early studies of isolated, primitive tribes, historical accounts of how new religions developed from older ones and the evolution from preliterate rituals to modern text based faiths.
The issue of group selection was a sticking point, with many biologists arguing against the idea that natural selection could operate at the group, rather than the individual level. However, it does seem that group selection need not be proposed for hunter gathers willing to risk their lives in warfare. A warrior does not fight assuming he will die, and in fact the majority survive. However, a brave warrior elevates his status, allowing him more opportunities to mate and pass on his genes to the next generation. War heroes make attractive mates.
While scholarship is divided on many of the points Wade raises, he makes a coherent case for the evolutionary benefits of religion, while illuminating its history, without addressing the thorny issue of the existence or non-existence of supernatural beings.
In the end I came away with a broader and deeper understanding of the issue, and that's the best thing one can say about a book. I consider this a must read for anyone interested in the subject of religion.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
The Gay Marriage issue
The gay marriage issue is on its way through the courts, perhaps all the way to the supreme court. It's a contentious issue, and one that seems to rest primarily on semantics.
In California we have marriage, and we have domestic partnerships, which convey the material benefits of marriage, but deny the cultural and emotional benefits. So, it's the word "marriage" that is the sticking point.
This is not surprising, as humans live in a semantic world. The Old Testament, one of the foundational documents of western culture, starts out with God naming things. What we call something usually determines how we think about it.
With that in mind, and knowing there are two conflicting opinions on gay marriage, I can't help thinking about the basic elements of a sentence, that unit of human thought. A sentence is divided into a subject and a predicate: what it is and what it does. The more I thought about it, the more I suspect that there are subject people and predicate people.
Take this sentence: Marriage is a formal union between two people who love each other.
Subject people stop at the word marriage and apply their definition before reading on. Predicate people don't pay much attention to the subject, but look at the rest of the sentence and say, "People loving each other; union; sounds OK to me."
As a predicate person, I care mostly about the process. You can scratch "marriage" and rename it, "purple unicorn breath," and it would be the same to me. Not so for others, so the debate rages on.
In California we have marriage, and we have domestic partnerships, which convey the material benefits of marriage, but deny the cultural and emotional benefits. So, it's the word "marriage" that is the sticking point.
This is not surprising, as humans live in a semantic world. The Old Testament, one of the foundational documents of western culture, starts out with God naming things. What we call something usually determines how we think about it.
With that in mind, and knowing there are two conflicting opinions on gay marriage, I can't help thinking about the basic elements of a sentence, that unit of human thought. A sentence is divided into a subject and a predicate: what it is and what it does. The more I thought about it, the more I suspect that there are subject people and predicate people.
Take this sentence: Marriage is a formal union between two people who love each other.
Subject people stop at the word marriage and apply their definition before reading on. Predicate people don't pay much attention to the subject, but look at the rest of the sentence and say, "People loving each other; union; sounds OK to me."
As a predicate person, I care mostly about the process. You can scratch "marriage" and rename it, "purple unicorn breath," and it would be the same to me. Not so for others, so the debate rages on.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Oh, no, award season again
I see from all the promotions on TV that it's award season again. I'm losing track, since I haven't watched them for several years. Let's see: academy awards, Emmys, golden globe, screen actors, Tonys and an assortment of music awards, such as popular, country and, I believe, grunge polka.
Now those are just the ones I remember. I'm sure they've added a least a dozen since then.
I've heard that this year there will be awards for the best supporting actor in a daytime commercial, the best dead victim in a crime drama and the best actor in a late night infomercial. I'm sure I've only scratched the surface here.
However many there are, you can bet we'll be exposed to one or two big award extravaganzas, lasting several hours, each week until they are eventually replaced by March Madness.
Am I the only one who sees the irony in people who are placed in front of the public on screen and TV on a regular basis, are paid millions for this work and then get shoved in our faces again while they all congratulate each other with a fancy ceremonies and ornate trophies?
We get it! These people are mega rich and mega popular. Shouldn't that be enough? Do we have to watch them hug each other and give long-winded speeches?
Where are the awards for the people who fight forest fires, maintain our parks, scientists, teachers and the painless dentists.
Now those are just the ones I remember. I'm sure they've added a least a dozen since then.
I've heard that this year there will be awards for the best supporting actor in a daytime commercial, the best dead victim in a crime drama and the best actor in a late night infomercial. I'm sure I've only scratched the surface here.
However many there are, you can bet we'll be exposed to one or two big award extravaganzas, lasting several hours, each week until they are eventually replaced by March Madness.
Am I the only one who sees the irony in people who are placed in front of the public on screen and TV on a regular basis, are paid millions for this work and then get shoved in our faces again while they all congratulate each other with a fancy ceremonies and ornate trophies?
We get it! These people are mega rich and mega popular. Shouldn't that be enough? Do we have to watch them hug each other and give long-winded speeches?
Where are the awards for the people who fight forest fires, maintain our parks, scientists, teachers and the painless dentists.
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