In The Beginning

For the sake of simplicity I've been calling the pre-Big Bang Thing/Energy/Entity "God." I don't want to get careless in my thinking by doing so. When I reread what I wrote yesterday, it seemed that I had slipped into personifying God. How did I allow that to happen? I retraced my thoughts.

Whether I go the Cartesian route (I think, therefore I am) or the Einsteinium matter/energy route (to the very limited extent that I understand it), I come back to the mystery of my awareness which is the only thing that I know for certain exists. Where did this awareness come from? And is Awareness THE distinguishing characteristic of God?

As a child of the modern era and with a limited understanding of physics, I accept that matter and energy are transformable; each can become the other. If the Big Bang, or some version of it, is The moment of birth of the Universe, what existed prior to that moment? The Mysterious "It" that philosophers and scientists and ordinary people have been trying to understand for eons. Whatever the nature of "It," "It" had the seeds of matter/energy. Was there a third component, Awareness, such that this "It" had the seeds of matter/energy/awareness? If so, I would call that "It" God. My current view of things, tinged with a bit of faith as well as reason, is in this direction. This may not be the case at all. It may (must) be far more complicated. It is also possible that awareness developed at some point after the Big Bang, that it evolved out of matter/energy or something else. In this case, I'd come down on the side of a Godless universe.

These are my ramblings. For most of my life, I've thought about these things and come up with different answers. I'm not sure if sharing them on a public blog is the wisest idea and I feel like I'm taking a risk in doing so. It doesn't "feel" right, but it seems like something that I "should"do, though I'm not sure why. I don't expect to arrive at an unwavering understanding of all this. I value the process of following these thoughts without pushing them towards any particular conclusion.

Maybe God Wants An Occassional Shout Out

It occurred to me this evening that EVERYTHING that exists is a manifestation of God. This is a thought that is neither new to me nor original with me. It's been a part of my thinking for the better part of two decades. I felt it differently this evening, though its ingredients have been simmering for a number of weeks or months. In recognizing that a pre-incarnated God may have experienced unimaginable despair in God's utter loneliness, I've made room for the possibility of feelings that I'd previously thought God could not possibly hold. Jealousy, for example, the whole "have no other gods before me" thing. The God that postulated, to the extent that I postulated any God, would have had no desire for prayers of any kind. Indeed, that God would be devoid of feelings. I find myself coming to the conclusion that the pre-incarnated God contained at least the seeds of all the flaws of humankind (as well as everything else that is). I continue to wonder if there is a God beyond that which has been created (incarnated). If so, what is that aspect of God like? To what extent has God evolved both pre and post incarnation? Is creation itself, the Big Bang if that theory is true, a result of God's evolution?

These are the thoughts that currently play across my mind.

The Vast Loneliness of God

Suddenly it occurred to me, after drinking some very good Chablis, that God may not be so tormented after all. While recognizing the transient nature of that which followed the Big Bang, God may be glorying in its magnificence. God is still fundamentally and profoundly alone and, when this Creation thing burns itself out, may once again experience the full measure of his loneliness. That is, if the pre-Big Bang Thing/Energy/Entity experiences consciousness. And after that, what then? Will God, if conscious, remember that which has been? Is God, if conscious, remembering now? Will God, if conscious, again erupt into that state which, at least this once, created a universe?

The Old Woman In Purple

Matt and I went to hear the San Francisco Symphony at Stern Grove last Sunday. For Matt, it was a symbol of a "return to normalcy," a return to his pre-Leukemia, pre- tumor on the parathyroid, days. We parked our car in a handicapped zone and waited at the corner for the shuttle that brings "seniors" and handicapped people to the concert area.

We were about third in line at the front of the shuttle bus when I noticed an old woman standing by herself at its rear. She was wearing purple pants, a purple jacket, and a purple cap decorated with flowers. Her beaded earrings were garishly large and predominantly purple. She reminded me of the first line in Jenny Joseph's poem, "Warning:" "When I am an old woman I shall wear purple." Someone ahead of us in line told the driver that the the woman in purple could go ahead of him. "Oh no," said the driver, "we have a special place up front for Shirley." I liked that the driver knew who Shirley was. I liked that she went alone to the concert. I liked her purpleness. Some day, I thought, I shall be the grandly alone in purple Shirley.

Shirley's presence was a peek into only one of my potential futures. I am in no rush to hasten that future. If and when it comes, it will be at the cost of the life that I am now so blessed be living. I embraced it as such and silently cheered Shirley on in her purple aloneness.

Later, as Matt and I waited at the end of a very long line for the return shuttle trip, I saw Shirley sitting on one of the folding chairs that were toward the front of that line. As the line moved forward, I saw that Shirley remained in her seat. When, at last, Matt and I were in the group that would be next to board the bus, I heard the woman who was guiding people onto the bus ask Shirley if she was waiting for someone. I could only hear enough of her answer to learn that she wasn't and that the bus driver would be taking her somewhere. For all I know this "somewhere" could have been only up the hill to where the shuttle route ended or to a bus station or possibly even home. The questioner lightly kidded Shirley about wanting to hang out with the young people. Shirley made some good natured response. I wonder what she was really feeling.

I thought about Shirley on the return drive. Matt and I had plans for a dinner at a local restaurant. I wondered what Shirley was returning to. I imagined that the concert was the highlight of her day, possibly the highlight of her week. I imagined that waiting for the shuttle driver to give her a ride was an event in itself, that it was not something which stood between her and the march of events in a life full of them. Of course, I don't know any of this. Possibly Shirley has managed to arrange for herself a highly fulfilling life with as many events as she could possibly want.

It is only a peek into one of my potential futures. And this is true both for how it is for Shirley and how I imagine it to be.

The Life of A Human Is Sometimes Too Damn Hard

A number of years ago, I decided that I would definitely not choose to be a human the next time around if reincarnation is what's ahead for us. It's just too damn difficult. We're too often powerless to change what's going on in our lives and too often vulnerable to the pains that life inflicts on us. That which doesn't kill us may (sometimes) make us stronger, but it can also eat away at our guts. Maybe we ultimately end up strengthened and blessed in some unanticipated way. Maybe the pain of a divorce, for example, clears the path for the unexpected joy of finally meeting one's true soulmate. Maybe a struggle against unwelcome tides strengthens us to move forward in swampy waters. Even with these sanguine results, many of us would choose to avoid life's hard lessons and make our homes in calmer waters. I think of a recent disruption in a relationship that was important to me. I would easily give up whatever strength I developed for the chance to excise that discord from my life. Perhaps that wound is still too raw for me to think otherwise.

I find myself thinking about this in response to an e-mail from a friend. She was discussing a difficult time when her world seemed to be falling apart. In describing the lack of empathy that she felt from someone close to her she said, "That whole time created some very deep and lasting wounds that have yet to completely heal." In a sense, her words normalized the existence of such wounds for me. I had been feeling that my continued sadness, anger, and detachment towards someone who hurt me was an aberration. We all, or perhaps just many of us, are the walking wounded. If we've risked our hearts in love, if we've wanted relationships that were denied to us, if we needed nurturing that wasn't available to us, we've been wounded. That we (eventually) pick ourselves up and march onward, is a testament to our survival, perhaps better for the experience, but also perhaps worse. At this point, I would slice from my life my most recent hurtful experience, but I'm ambivalent about some other deep wounds. I am largely the product of my experiences and, given a choice, I'd choose to live the rest of my life as the Me that I've become.

On the other hand, if reincarnation is our post-death experience, I would choose to become a mussel on a pier. Or perhaps coral. The environment around me would feed me or not; I'd be relatively passive in the experience. Or maybe not; I don't really know how these beings experience their own lives. My point is that I'd want to take a break from the challenge of being human. After I had a decent enough recovery, I might opt again for the challenge of Homo Sapienness with a caveat: The next time around I want to be an insanely beautiful woman whose beauty is matched by fine character, a sharp mind, and a joyful personality. I'll throw in extravagant wealth while I'm at it.

I Am Learning To See

Since I first posted the photos of daffodils about to bloom in late February, I have become (some would say) obsessed with taking pictures of flowers. Pulling off to the side of the road so that I could take a picture of a tree in glorious bloom would certainly seem to prove this. For an immediate gratification sort like myself, the digital camera has widely opened up the world of picture taking. In the process, or as the impetus for the process, I have created for myself a new project, a circular photo collage. Initially this was to be in the form of a mandala. My intention was to use only parts of each flower picture, perhaps a section of a daisy petal for instance, to create an abstract and balanced design. I jettisoned this idea when I saw how beautifully sharp and detailed the photos were. I became fascinated with what I saw when the smallest flowers were magnified by the camera.The only distortion in my eventual collage will be with regard to the relative sizes of the flowers.

I have discovered a world that has been pretty much invisable to me, or rather blurred, the world of flowers. Prior to my picture taking, I had no idea as to the vast variety of flowers in my immediate world. I saw purple flowers, but rarely the differences that define them. I have a deficit in my language of specifics. I can use the language of the abstract yet don't know the names of the flowers in my own garden.This is an embarrassment to me.
Picture taking has not remedied this deficit. Though bedazzled with the variety of flowers, I still can't name them.

I plan eventually to get a book with pictures of flowers identified by their names. Though I doubt that this information will stick firmly in my mind, it would be nice to have this information readily available. In the meantime, my bedazzlement intensifies as some of the early bloomers begin to fade and other varieties begin to bloom.

As to the flowers pictured, I invite you to identify them in the comments section.

The Colors of Spring

The Daffodils are now in full yellow and white bloom.








Along the road and in the meadows, the grass is a vivid green.









A blossoming tree shimmers in pink.









New leaves burst forth on once bare limbs





And in the distance, the sky is cloudless.

My World Gets Ready for Spring

The daffodils prepare to bloom. Rain has turned the grasses and leaves and bushes green. My world, in beauty, prepares for Spring.