A to Z Challenge 2020 (E=Energy)

In physical science, energy is a measurable with ergs, joules, electron-volts, calories, or foot-pounds as the capacity to do work. It is also defined as a usually positive spiritual force, such as an energy flowing through people. There is a lot of different energy in people.

New Age advocates see energy in the second sense, as a power force producing spiritual energy. It’s about enhancing energy by tapping into the power of the universe or another person by manipulating that force so that you can be healthy, happy, fulfilled, and successful. This makes life meaningful, significant, and endless. These are admirable goals for the defined type of energy, and indeed a considerable amount of time, effort, and expense (and someone’s profit) go into the pursuit of such energy.

Despite a long existence of things like chi, reiki, and prana, the second definition remains unmeasurable, although it is said to be the source of life and health. It is measured by feeling it.

Healers with special powers are often required. Masters, if you will; to help with unblocking, harmonizing, unifying, tuning, aligning, balancing, or channeling (see day 3). The key issue for all of this, to me, has always been that if I do not believe it works, it will not (sort of reverse placebo). The same argument is made for belief in any god or religion.

Yes. There is an energy to life. It takes a life to make a life, as far as I know. I don’t know how everything works, why, or when. I know that many quacks are out there in the world of bacteria and viruses, of gods and spirits, of true believers and skeptics.

If I take a drug that makes me feel good or bad, if I undergo a medical treatment, or if I have a helpful conversation with someone, including myself, I may feel better (or worse, for the other side of the value scale). I usually know why. In most cases the experience can be replicated.

The New Age way of looking at energy has never worked for me. Maybe because I am a natural skeptic. Even when I wanted it to work, and I sought it out, it did not have the claimed/desired effect. In every case, the failure was attributed to my skepticism. I was never told (even by people like chiropractors or massage “therapists”) that it was their fault, or the issue was fake. In one case, the practitioner claimed failure due to their personal lack of experience.

I have no scientific evidence that anyone’s life energy continues after death or that anyone was another person in a previous and separate life. When people like me try to be open to such things, does that give “energy” to fake practitioners? I don’t know.

I remain open to proof and evidence that is more than how another person was made to feel. But for now, I’ll stick to the first definition of energy.

Bill

A to Z Challenge 2020 (D=Déjà vu)

I recall one day as a child walking with my parents to the park where the county courthouse was (and is) along with a bronze statue of a deer upon which the tradition is to be photographed. I was about seven years old. I told everyone that I had been to this place before. I was certain of it. I don’t recall who told me that I had not been there, and that I was imagining it. But I think it was my father.

It was the only real déjà vu event in my life, that I can recall so vividly. If I went to the town where I grew up, I can stand on the exact spot where I said and felt it.

I’ve never forgotten. Then, one day about 5 years ago I was going through old photo albums and found a picture of me on the courthouse deer with my mother. She had to hold me up, so I was between six months and two years of age. I had been there before.

There were no pictures of my father. I had been there years earlier, probably with my mother and her sisters while Dad was at work. Déjà vu means “already seen” and indeed I had already seen as I thought. My memory was an actual memory within the confines of my actual life.

One of the issues with a woo-woo déjà vu experience is the feeling of strangeness, which is common. It happens often. My skepticism is, in terms of it being a lost memory (that is plausible), past lives (not so plausible), clairvoyance (nope), or other mystical and misguided explanations, there is a real-world explanation.

What we should focus on is the real. The feeling that may be caused by a brain state or things that precede brain temporal lobe epilepsy attacks or hallucinations. This, too, is common.

And I love the trite phrase, it’s déjà vu all over again. What’s your story?

Bill

A to Z Challenge 2020 (C=Channeling)

My son was referring to a selfie photo I posted when he asked if I was channeling Hunter S. Thompson. I was not channeling anyone. I am not a channeler.

No spirit entity has ever invaded me for any reason, certainly not to communicate with me or anyone else. This ability and such events have never been confessed to me by anyone I know, although some folks do claim things similar (but I’m not sure how serious they are).

However, apparently a lot of people believe that spiritual channeling happens where real spirits of past living persons (including Jesus) invade or take over the person known to have the gift of channeling – to be a channeler.

Famous people involved with channeling include Jane Roberts of Seth Speaks, and Shirley MacLaine. I’m not sure MacLaine considers herself a professional channeler, but she admits to believing in it and uses channelers to communicate with people like Frank Sinatra.

My issue with this is not so much that it is obviously not true. My issue is that people like MacLaine and others not only believe it to be true (and I accept that they are sincere), they see in nonbelievers of channeling something wrong. We have a block or wall (since we doubt) that prevents us from seeing the truth. As do all believers of weird stuff, it is the fault of the nonbeliever for not believing in something that not only has no evidence; even they admit that it is neither provable nor disprovable.

As I sit here writing this, a poster hangs five feet in front of me with the pictures or photos of about 80 famous writers from Dante to JK Rowling. If I could, or if anyone could, who would I want to channel?

(Stands and walks to the poster for a close look.) I’d pick Mark Twain. Most of the others scare me, and several are still living.

When people tell me the reason that I do not believe something is because I require proof, and it is therefore my own fault that I don’t get it, it all sounds familiar. I just stare at them. Yet, they have no problem believing the weirdest shit, for which there is, at best, no evidence, or there is clear proof to the contrary. Go figure.

Bill

A to Z Challenge 2020 (B=Backmasking)

Backward Satanic Messages come from playing musical lyrics backward, not that many music lovers would do that. I do listen to Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven sometimes, but I am never inclined to ask Pandora to play it backwards. The people who believe nonsense like this are those who cannot see or hear anything without trying to figure out how Satan plays into it (SNL Church Lady).

Someone has so much time on their hands that they listen to music, play it backwards, and hear messages (satanic or whatever), then manage to convince others of their discovery.

“…Ooh, it makes me wonder
Ooh, it makes me wonder

There’s a feeling I get
When I look to the west
And my spirit is crying for leaving
In my thoughts I have seen
Rings of smoke through the trees
And the voices of those who standing looking

Ooh, it makes me wonder
Ooh, it really makes me wonder….”

I have so much time on my hands, I write about it. To be clear, I think this back-masking nonsense is more religious crap that no one, even most religious folks, should believe.

Bill

A to Z Challenge 2020 (A=Angel Therapy)

Angel therapy is new age woo-woo claiming effective psychotherapy based on the idea that communicating with angels brings healing as the angel guides the patient.

I don’t remember ever trying to communicate with an angel, but I probably did. As a child, I was taught that we all had a guardian angel to guide each of us through life. I am certain that said guardian never said a word to me. If there ever was one, I’m sure he quit in frustration.

That is what this form of therapy (let’s not forget the therapist) is all about. It sounds copy-cat to me. Yesterday mine told me to wear a mask and gloves into the grocery store, even though I had no intention of robbing the place, although they did seem to have an unguarded supply of TP.

I should have acquired at least one roll to wipe up BS like this.

Bill

Essay: Learning Reality

I’ve lived most of my life thinking god is either likely or unlikely. I suppose that’s normal for many people. Did I believe in a god? Who was I trying to please by playing along?

At times, I have said something about being agnostic. However, I never said I did not think a god existed until a few years ago. But that’s what I thought. The only conversations on the topic that I recall were with people who claimed to believe not only in god, but who also thought their religion was correct.

While I tried to believe that a god existed, I considered virtually all religion as nonsense regardless of whether any god existed. In the case of Christianity, some denominations seemed more looney than others. That was my point of view even when I acknowledged only the good side of religion. Now I more clearly see the dark side of religion. My opinion feels balanced.

Over the years, I probably worked harder at not being a nonbeliever (which I seemed to be) than I did at being a believer (which I wasn’t), if my double negative comments make sense. That is for me what religion is all about, at least on the surface. Oddly enough, I never had much of a cognitive dissonance issue with this conundrum. I assumed that I wasn’t getting it.

This back and forth (or on and off) went on for a long time. During the last twelve years of my experience in the deep end of the Christianity pool, I was all-in; meaning I was on a mission to fix my 40+ years of personal doubt. What happened was the opposite. I changed from a quiet (keep it to myself) skeptic going through the motions. I became an outspoken atheist who loves to say there are no gods. Prove me wrong if you can. I’m justly called cantankerous for less.

When I was silent (practicing religion or not), I was never asked to prove anything. I was never asked to provide a meaning for my life. No one asked me how humans and animals came into existence, even though I’d reconciled evolution with Genesis. Others seemed more willing to inform me of how the Universe popped up from nothingness (whatever that is), than to ask how I thought that had happened.

One does not need to come out as either atheist or agnostic. But we should when it’s safe. Depending on the situation, claiming to be deist might work. Or, one can also simply stay away from religious practice and admit to not having a church ‘home’ or no religion: to being a none. But that opens the door to proselytization.

Many folks make exactly that choice, and no one hates or fears them as with an atheist. I know some self-proclaimed Christians who are a party of one as far as proclaiming denominational alignment. They claim to be anti-church or anti-organized religion. Maybe it’s complicated.

My wife and I have always had friends, family, neighbors, or workmates who were involved with religion. That social aspect of our lives may account for several efforts of accommodating various Christian denominations. All of which fell apart for some legitimate reason.

My search has ended. I find it interesting that I spent such effort, time, money, and talent trying to be (and apply) something that was never a serious intellectual or mindful part of me. I thought I was missing out. While I never felt a spiritual loss, I was socially missing something. Something I now scoff at.

Unfortunately, some folks don’t understand why I have no regrets about trying. Others seem to proclaim regret for a religious past. Perhaps it was psychologically damaging to them, or maybe they regret wasted time and effort. I learned things about myself and human nature during those years. It is a reality of my life. How can I regret learning about reality?

Bill

Poetry: To Be Chosen

To be chosen, preferred, favored
from among the many typed or penned
by Him,
to be selected as a creation
of Creations,
to know this favoritism
is of His own doing
brings light with pleasure.

Gratification being a true piece
of self,
of Him,
of art.

Is there to be joy
in words
or pity for the many
not so selected?

How does the poem know the poet?

He who worked weeks
to trickle a passive single
or wildly, emotionally
swinging for the fence
and finding a home run
from the glory of gut—
if it is sin, prideful sin.

Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (FOWC): transient

Essay: That Uneasy Feeling

The problem of homeless folks wandering about this part of town had grown and was written-up in The Times. The panhandlers had become more aggressive and demanding, bordering on threatening extortion.

As I walked through the park, I admired all the happy people, children playing, observant pets, but no sign of the city’s human nuisances. I walked into one of the ubiquitous coffee shops. As I waited, out the window all seemed well.

I walked out with a drink in my hand and turned toward the 8^th Street bridge to walk back to our condo. I could feel his approach before I saw him. Then his footsteps matched mine. When I slowed, he slowed. Walking faster, he followed.

The small talk began as he walked beside me. He said he was a transient from New York City. I was blunt. He accused me of being rude. He was right.

I hesitated at a trash can and dropped my coffee cup in. He stopped too. I just stood there. He did not leave my side.

When I noticed the police-car parked up the street, I headed directly for it. He asked me where I was going. I asked why he was following me. He said he was just being friendly. I told him to leave me alone. I heard him mumble some expletive.

I leaned over. Looking into the car, I asked the two officers for directions to Washington Street, where the condo was located. I knew the way but complaining about being harassed would have divulged my own transient status. Technically, the man had indeed been friendly and had not harmed or threatened me.

After they told me the way, I stood up, looked in all directions, and started jogging back. He was gone.

I felt a little guilty when I walked into the condo we had rented for the week. I told my wife that I had changed my mind about moving to Seattle. When she asked why, I told her that I had decided we couldn’t afford it. Too many coffee shops. Maybe we should try New York.

FOWC with Fandango — Transient

Poetry: How I Want It

I’ve decided.
I know what I want;
and how I want it.

My goal
has always been
to have it both ways.

I want to live forever,
but not to age;
I want loyalty
without commitment;
I want happiness
without sadness;
wins
without losses;
all the women,
but none of the men;
I want victory
without competition;
dreams
without sleep;
drama
without risk;
intoxication
without whiskey;
acceptance without effort;
good without bad;

And love,
I just want to love
and to be loved.

Happy Friday and best weekend wishes, y’all.

Essay: Good Bye, Faithful Scout

I felt slightly disappointed when I read this article stating that the organization formerly known as the Boy Scouts of America (BSA) had filed for Chapter 11 Bankruptcy. This protective action was ostensibly precipitated by BSA’s failure to manage the behavior of its leadership and members. Furthermore, Boy Scout’s attempts to be inclusively fair, if not openly and officially accepting, to LGBTQ members and leaders and to females, even going so far as changing its official name seem to have contributed to the struggle. I am uncertain about the details of all that, but it seems to me that the Boy Scouts have fallen victim to the clichéd rock and a hard place.

I was a member of BSA as were my two sons. Julie was a Brownie or something. None of us were abused, that I know of. The two troops I was associated with were each aligned with two different Christian-denomination churches. I recall using words like loyal, helpful, friendly, jamboree, scout’s honor, motto, merit badge, ranking by class (first, second, etc.), and the three-finger salute. Neither I nor my sons were inducted into the Order of the Arrow or Eagle Scouts, nor did any of us do more than eventually move on after some meetings and camping trips, although my tenure may have been longer.

One of my son’s friends was Jewish and a member of the same scout troop. My wife recalls the boy’s Jewish mother, a family friend, commenting that BSA was a Christian organization. It’s interesting how different things look from the inside of organizations, religions, and groups than they do from the outside. Organizations sponsored by churches or religions take on trappings of the sponsor, no matter the struggle for fairness.

At least one of my grandchildren was steered away from association with the Boy Scouts due, at least in part, to its religious, God and Country, core influences. Yet, ironically, it is BSA’s tie with religion, particularly with Latter Day Saints (Mormon) and other vestiges of Christianity as well, that is it’s undoing along with stacking up lawsuits and the ever-present litigation by lawyers making a living over organized misconduct. But those details don’t bother me.

What I did wonder about is why I gave a shit when I read the news. Why do I feel badly seeing an organization founded with good intentions foundering after being attacked, perhaps deservedly, from all sides, religious and secular? Intellectually and rationally, I don’t care. Some might even say I was corrupted by being a Scout, but I disagree. Yet, there is no denying how I feel emotionally.

I’ve been criticized for not regretting my religious, Roman Catholic, past. I’ve been called corrupted, ignorant, and diagnosed with cognitive dissonance by fellow atheists, none of which know me personally, for my lack of acrimonious bitching about religions. While I admit that I would not encourage anyone’s association with and participation in BSA today, I confess gratitude and a smidgen of pride for what the Boy Scouts taught me. The organization I knew is long gone. Such a group will be replaced (already has been in some arenas), but it will never be the same. Neither will I (Scout’s honor).

After that, it’s time for some Eagles. I was going to paste-in a YouTube of the song Get Over It, but I failed to find a public domain link. What is cyberspace coming to? I’m sure I’ll get over it.

Wait! I found this one. Not great, but eh. It works and cured me.

Bill