The Essence of Life

I just happened across the essence of life. I wasn’t really looking for it but it found me. I was on the first leg of my usual round trip shuttle junket to work, minding my own business, reading a tiny book entitled, “Lying”, by an avowed atheist, Sam Harris. Harris seems to be on a quest to show that humanity can hold a sense of ethics and values and morals without the guidance of a religiously set gyroscope. I’ve always felt that way. In fact, it always seemed to me that religion gave people a free pass to misbehave in the most violent and despicable ways. In reading this book, dealing with truth telling, honesty and integrity, the triumvirate of goodness, my headspace was available to pull out from the tangle of intellectual musings, an epiphany. I love epiphanies because they are so spontaneous and travel in and out of one’s brain like some runaway train. But this train wasn’t just filled with the freight of my usual noodlings with no real destination. This one had application and was headed somewhere in my brain. Before exiting it left me with this: To live a fulfilling and worthwhile life there are two elements necessary and they work together as partners; we must learn all we can and with that knowledge we must make the world a better and more beautiful place. That’s it. Simple really. What constitutes learning is everything we bump into as we stray through life: school, friends, relatives, marriage, child bearing, guitar playing, book reading, sailing, science, Darwin, Beethoven, spelunking, beekeeping, job, career, beer drinking, homelessness, butterflies… It’s all out there and we breathe it all in and learn about ourselves, those around us, what constitutes love, how to share, how to care about things outside of ourselves, how to observe, how to think and problem solve, how to be impeccable and question authority and get along and be a good citizen and discover. What we do with all of this knowledge makes all the difference. The point of this exercise of learning as we are being is to gift it to the world. It doesn’t belong to us, not to covet nor hoard. Our unique intellects, shaped by our unique learning experiences need to be released into the world to make it a more beautiful and lasting place. It’s that simple. To do less is to simply take up breathing space.

Paradise by M.C. Escher

What Would John Muir Do?

I get it. I will have very little impact on this big, all-encompassing world, the one I fret about so. But, then there's my world, the world of getting up and getting ready for work, stopping by Peet's for a tea and discussing conspiracy theories with Daniel, hopping on the shuttle, walking from Gilman and Myers to my office, popping my head through all thresholds with an a.m. "hello, I'm here", firing up my computer, waiting for it to bring me the start of my work day via unfettered email flow. I can do things in this world of mine, this closed eco and ego sytem that I reverberate through like some low-intensity electrical charge. This is why the planned conversion of Muir Field from a grass field to a synthetic turf field is such a sticking point for me. Out there in the big bad world, decisions that reflect industry greed and laziness are so deep and wide that I know I'm not even six degrees of separation from having a seat at the trough. But, here in my own backyard is a different story. Sort of. A local action, some local screaming to local ears could make a difference. At least a path is visible. A compelling argument might resonate, some grains of truth might raise an eyebrow or two, or more; perhaps enough to jettison the idea of a synthetic turf field altogether. So, why all the fuss about this field? Here's how I see it. There is an athletic field made of real grass that resides in a central spot on campus and doubles as a campus park. The field's perimeter is marked by stately eucalyptus trees and is adjacent to an indoor pool and outdoor tennis, basketball and sand volleyball courts. When not in use by organized athletic teams this pristine space is used by university citizens as a pass through while walking to bus stops, housing, the beach, parking and also affords campus workers and dwellers a little open space to walk dogs, throw a frisbee, eat lunch, play croquet, take a nap, conduct children's fun and games. The field is known as Muir Field, part of the Muir campus whose namesake, John Muir, is honored as one of this country's earliest environmental pioneers. Because the powers that be wish to turn this field into a 24/7 workhorse that can accommodate constant on-campus use and off-campus rentals for some quick cash, its natural grass days are numbered. Instead, this living and breathing organism that plays host to worms, bugs, birds, dandelions, us and CO2 sequestration will be replaced by a bed of 40,000 crushed tires, a.k.a. tire crumb, topped by blades of plastic grass fashioned to look like the real thing. But, it's not the real thing. It is one hot mess. The plastic blades don't breathe the way grass does and in the summer under a searing San Diego sun temperatures can climb upwards of 120 to 130 degrees. Not exactly conducive to playing ball or picnicking. The tire rubber, used to simulate the dirt and claimed to be "safer" by industry proponents, due to the sponginess of the rubber bed, is a pile of toxic dust that contains carbon black, found to be a cancer causing agent. Although the synthetic turf industry would have us believe that theirs is a "green" and eco-friendly industry that saves our landfills and conserves water, their half-truths or outright lies are as thick as the tire debris they are tracking across the playgrounds of America. So, back to my world. Is anyone listening? Does anyone care that their kids will be running and jumping on a bed of toxic chemicals? Does anyone know? The answer is a resounding "NO". At least not yet. Shall I continue my opposition openly? Or strike out subversively? What would John Muir do?

Dinosaur on Dinosaurs

I've been working on a poem entitled, "Dinosaur", which I'm trying to cleverly craft into a statement about aging but found myself drifting along on a tangent examining the latest chapter of scientific skullduggery referred to as "revive and restore". So, the original idea of Dinosaur, being the act of pushing away older people before they somehow infect the culture with slow and outmoded systems and ideas, let's call it Dinosauration, morphed suddenly into an interest in examining the ethics and morality of bringing back extinct species. Rife with controversy yet so out-of-this-world fascinating in an almost Jules Verne sense, I argued in its favor recently, in theory, with a young friend who is an avowed environmentalist. When I asked what her thoughts were concerning revival of the woolly mammoth, which I only used as an example because I love saying "woolly mammoth" and had just seen a picture of one with its enormous curved tusks, she responded negatively, immediately citing the well-used "playing God" as an example of the conceit of such an endeavor. Now, she is an atheist, as am I, and immediately took back the idea of "playing God" since any red-blooded atheist would see the folly of using that phrase. However, the tinkering with the natural order of things was the real issue here and she felt that the scientific community's efforts, energies and monies would be better spent trying to save the species not yet extinct; the critters that are still just barely wining and dining, and choking and grasping and tenuously existing in a world they can still call their own. Which begs the question, what is the purpose of science and what should it pursue? Should it only "fix" things in this world with a myopic gaze on practical solutions for self-created problems or might that carefully adjusted focus limit the depth of sight and narrow all peripheral possibilities? In other words, if we shield our gaze from the stars and sun and moon, looking only at Mother Earth, is it possible we could become burrowers, digging in and unable to see the light outside of our tunnels? I'm not sure what motivation should power scientific inquiry but I feel certain that if a real Jurassic-like park appears in the outlands of Siberia containing a cast of characters from the Pleistocene Age, including the Woolly Mammoth, the motivation will be money. There's no money in gnat catchers. Said by a true dinosaur.