Animal Consciousness & Morality

If you ever find yourself wondering about the consciousness and morality of other animals on our planet, click back to this video. The presence of "heart and soul" is difficult to miss when one is face to face with it. Never allow yourself to forget the kinship we share with the other creatures of the world who are our brothers and sisters. 

Pappy

The Gullibility of Faith

Very often, we can learn much from those with whom we do not totally agree. I find this to be true particularly with atheists. I am not an atheist, but share many views in common with them. The video shown here, expresses one of the best oratories on the negative aspects of faith I've heard in a while. I'd like to share it with you.

Enjoy,
Pappy

Nature by Ralph Waldo Emerson

To go into solitude, a man needs to retire as much from his chamber as from society. I am not solitary whilst I read and write, though nobody is with me. But if a man would be alone, let him look at the stars. The rays that come from those heavenly worlds, will separate between him and what he touches. One might think the atmosphere was made transparent with this design, to give man, in the heavenly bodies, the perpetual presence of the sublime. Seen in the streets of cities, how great they are! If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore; and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown! But every night come out these envoys of beauty, and light the universe with their admonishing smile.

The stars awaken a certain reverence, because though always present, they are inaccessible; but all natural objects make a kindred impression, when the mind is open to their influence. Nature never wears a mean appearance. Neither does the wisest man extort her secret, and lose his curiosity by finding out all her perfection. Nature never became a toy to a wise spirit. The flowers, the animals, the mountains, reflected the wisdom of his best hour, as much as they had delighted the simplicity of his childhood.

When we speak of nature in this manner, we have a distinct but most poetical sense in the mind. We mean the integrity of impression made by manifold natural objects. It is this which distinguishes the stick of timber of the wood-cutter, from the tree of the poet. The charming landscape which I saw this morning, is indubitably made up of some twenty or thirty farms. Miller owns this field, Locke that, and Manning the woodland beyond. But none of them owns the landscape. There is a property in the horizon which no man has but he whose eye can integrate all the parts, that is, the poet. This is the best part of these men's farms, yet to this their warranty-deeds give no title.

To speak truly, few adult persons can see nature. Most persons do not see the sun. At least they have a very superficial seeing. The sun illuminates only the eye of the man, but shines into the eye and the heart of the child. The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood. His intercourse with heaven and earth, becomes part of his daily food. In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows. Nature says, -- he is my creature, and maugre all his impertinent griefs, he shall be glad with me. Not the sun or the summer alone, but every hour and season yields its tribute of delight; for every hour and change corresponds to and authorizes a different state of the mind, from breathless noon to grimmest midnight. Nature is a setting that fits equally well a comic or a mourning piece. In good health, the air is a cordial of incredible virtue. Crossing a bare common, in snow puddles, at twilight, under a clouded sky, without having in my thoughts any occurrence of special good fortune, I have enjoyed a perfect exhilaration. I am glad to the brink of fear. In the woods too, a man casts off his years, as the snake his slough, and at what period soever of life, is always a child. In the woods, is perpetual youth. Within these plantations of God, a decorum and sanctity reign, a perennial festival is dressed, and the guest sees not how he should tire of them in a thousand years. In the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life, -- no disgrace, no calamity, (leaving me my eyes,) which nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground, -- my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space, -- all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God. The name of the nearest friend sounds then foreign and accidental: to be brothers, to be acquaintances, -- master or servant, is then a trifle and a disturbance. I am the lover of uncontained and immortal beauty. In the wilderness, I find something more dear and connate than in streets or villages. In the tranquil landscape, and especially in the distant line of the horizon, man beholds somewhat as beautiful as his own nature.

The greatest delight which the fields and woods minister, is the suggestion of an occult relation between man and the vegetable. I am not alone and unacknowledged. They nod to me, and I to them. The waving of the boughs in the storm, is new to me and old. It takes me by surprise, and yet is not unknown. Its effect is like that of a higher thought or a better emotion coming over me, when I deemed I was thinking justly or doing right.

Yet it is certain that the power to produce this delight, does not reside in nature, but in man, or in a harmony of both. It is necessary to use these pleasures with great temperance. For, nature is not always tricked in holiday attire, but the same scene which yesterday breathed perfume and glittered as for the frolic of the nymphs, is overspread with melancholy today. Nature always wears the colors of the spirit. To a man laboring under calamity, the heat of his own fire hath sadness in it. Then, there is a kind of contempt of the landscape felt by him who has just lost by death a dear friend. The sky is less grand as it shuts down over less worth in the population.

Bottom Of the Barrel

What is at the bottom of the barrel? I'm not sure that I have been there, but I know I've been close. I have smelled the brimstone neath my claws. I don't know what lies below that, and I don't want to. Every father wishes that his children forgo the mistakes he has made. I'm no different. If I had a magic wand, I would surely wave it now over all of them. I don't have a magic wand. All I have are my words, my experience, my story to tell. I am lucky to have lived to tell it. I will be even more lucky if it is heard.

Once upon a time your Pappy was another man, much different than the one you have known. You would not like him very much. He was a fighter, an abuser of women, a drug fiend. He went down all the wrong roads and thought he was having so much fun. If I am dead when you read this, it is what I deserve. I have taken all the steps necessary to hasten that inevitable day. I only hope that you can learn about the "bottom of the barrel" from me instead of going there for yourself.

In this short post, I want to talk to you about the drugs. They feel great, and they take your life from you. My drug of choice was cocaine in it's powdered form. There was a time in my life when money was no object, and I used it to purchase piles and piles of cocaine. I spent $3,000 - $5,000 every month on this drug for three years. You need to put that into perspective with your time. This was the 1990's. I didn't care about the money. I didn't care about anything but doing cocaine. It ruled my life, and it took me to the depths of despair.

After three years, I kicked the habit all by myself. I thought I had gotten off light, but the physical effects caught up to me. Afterwards I have experienced chronic depression, of which I have no control. My immune system has been altered and resulted in rheumatoid arthritis. My nervous system has been altered and left me with "ticks" that will not go away. My psychology has been weakened and left me with paranoid delusions. I did not get away with anything.

Where is the bottom of the barrel? I do not know. I am still digging, but I do know that if my children were to follow me here, it would be more than I could bear. If I can leave anything behind that would make this journey worthwhile, it would be the impact of my experience from which my children would learn. Keep your bodies whole. Respect what the great spirit has given you. Do not abuse your mind, your heart, your lungs, your spirit. I love you all with everything I am and wish nothing more than for you to never see the bottom of the barrel.

With All My Love,

Pappy

God Is Not Good

When I make comments like this, they should not be taken to mean God literally, but God as described in the Christian / Hebrew Bible. I do not believe that the source of all life on earth and the universe is anything like the personal deity depicted in Jewish, Christian, and Muslim mythology.

I felt I should clear that up before proceeding to the video, which coincidentally is a pretty awesome clip from the BBC movie, God on Trial: The Verdict, directed by Andy DeEmmony - well worth the watching. I hope you take something from this clip worth thinking about. After all, my entire goal is to instigate thought. The answers to all our questions have already been answered if we will only allow ourselves to think freely.

With All My Love,
Pappy

My Friend the Bluebird

Since I was a very young, no more than 8 or 10-years-old, I've had a little friend who has followed me through life. I call him Blusey the bluebird. Each of us inherit something special from the source of life from which we come. My "something special" has been an oft' faithful companion, Bluesy.

When Blusey was young, he knew no songs. He hadn't the gift of music in any way, so I have taught him, over the years, a few of my own. Now on the days when the bluebird comes and lights on my shoulder, I insist that he leave something behind to remind me of his visit. Something more than tears and a troubled mind.

Now that my friend has learned to sing, his trips are lighter, brighter, and bring truth my way - a learning in the music of the soul. The heart's cry tells no lies. What I have learned of myself and others could have only been found in Blusey's songs, as sleep escaped us through the years, and as we've sang together all night long.

A Song for You 04