Thursday, June 28, 2012
as we would mourn when we lose the great decisions that mean a little death for many of us, let us also celebrate the great decisions that mean a better life for all of us.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
this is an excellent article in which a couple seti (search for extraterrestrial intelligence) researchers comment on exactly the question I've written on previously. their takeaway: because humans haven't been at the center of existence for a while, most religious would simply take it in stride and continue. I'd like to believe that. unfortunately, that presupposes a willingness to adapt to circumstances that isn't always borne out by history. would most religious accept extraplanetary bacteria as evidence of a diversity to the universe we can only guess at or as creations of the adversary meant to be destroyed? my religious mind believes the former; my political mind suspects the latter.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Thursday, June 21, 2012
when it comes to cars I think we're talking the makings of a holocaust even if all we consider are insects. I don't know how many hundreds or hundreds of thousands of insects I kill each time I drive for any distance. there are always fresh markings on my windshield and bumper and even when I'm driving slowly I feel bees and flies slam against my arm.
I've hit fewer animals with my car than I have with the lawnmower. if you haven't screwed things up too badly then if you have a couple acres out here on the rim you'll have billions of squirming, breathing life, and the odds of your having a fatal interaction with them increases. I have no clue how many insects die under the blade but I know I've hit rabbits, frogs, moles and mice. once I ran over a nest of baby bunnies and killed three. two were just smears but the third that was probably under them was on its back next to the divet they'd been in, wriggling and thrashing. I had cut off one of its paws. I drowned it in the spring that forms in the early summer by one of the outhouses and threw its body over into the cornfield.
today it was a snake. it was about six or seven inches long, probably immature. on one of my passes across the lawn I noticed a movement in the grass and saw its sleek black and tan body turning over and over. there wasn't much left of its head; it had probably struck at the blade like it would against a predator. but I couldn't bear the thought of anything continuing to move like that if I could help it so I picked it up--its body was dry and warm and felt like living meat rolling in my hand--took it to the road where there's a lot of new paving being done, and pressed most of it under a goodsized rock. that seemed only to make it thrash more and I'd gone beyond logic now and was reacting like the snake's body, just on nerves, and I couldn't imagine anything being in that much pain so I dropped it into the water that's collected in the culvert at the end of the drive. it seemed almost immediately at peace, or stopped moving at least, and settled into its place at the bottom of the pool.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Saturday, June 9, 2012
global encounters within an area and that involves a lot of reading, discussing, listening, and traveling. I have to participate in a blog for that class and so am linking to it, since it's relevant to what I post here; I'll post there again before the end of the weekend or monday, and then again near the end of the week, and will link to those as well. in addition, I'm also taking part in a junowrimo (the june version of the november novelwriting exercise) and trying to be diligent about keeping up a wordcount for that.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
it's gutwrenching to see this happen, to have our hopes, which are all we have, really, dashed so completely and irrevocably, to have to watch the opposing team, carried to victory, dance in the end zone and then rub our faces in it. that, of course, is politics, but it's depressing to no end. and disheartening. and humiliating.
in the midst of all this, as I sat and watched the returns and got further and further into a funk, my dog who is nearly always nervous and afraid came in and lept onto the couch with me, then leaned against me until she was folded on my lap and compressed against my chest like she was a blade and I was the handlecover she was melded to. I petted her, saying "you really do count on me, don't you?" her respoonse was a soft, thick thump of her tail. her eyes closed and she fell into a deep sleep, trusting that I would keep her from sliding off me.
this, in the midst of all the rest, is what we must do. we must hug and hold one another and be equal to the trust of our dogs.