Category Archives: Reason to Live

The Spirit of Thanksgiving

Last year, I started listening to Christmas music the day after Halloween. Truth be told, I received some rightly deserved criticism for slighting Thanksgiving in such a fashion. In my defense, there is not much music about Thanksgiving in an outright way like there is about Christmas. So, this year, I took on a challenge to find the music of Thanksgiving, and, in the process, find the Spirit of Thanksgiving, which I expected to be every bit as vital and life-affirming as the Spirit of Christmas, which I have grown to love over the years.

My journey started with Johnny Cash. He has two songs about Thanksgiving, and both brought warmth to my heart and tears to my eyes. Johnny Cash knew what it was like to be a tree shorn of its leaves, to not have much, but to be thankful for what it still had… to be thankful for intangible, spiritual things such as love and hope and peace.

There were the novelty songs about Thanksgiving, sure, just like Christmas, but not in as great a number. Thanksgiving is not a worldwide holiday. It is a holiday of the United States of America when we observe it in November. No one else is a co-celebrant with our nation on our day of Thanksgiving. It is a holiday of North America, with its climatologic particulars that bring a grey, drear weather to much of the nation for much of the month as the leaves fall to the ground after the brilliant, fiery beauty of October that is the equal of April’s grand blossoming. The harvest is in: there is no more planting or growing until springtime. Winter comes soon, and we must pass through its trials if we are to survive. The Pilgrims of old chose this time of year to offer thanks for their survival thus far and to look forward to their anticipated future in their New World, where, more than anywhere else they had been, they felt as if they were in God’s hands.

Eventually, I arrived upon this song: David Johansen singing “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E4axKHtMNKw

It’s my favorite rendition of the hymn/folk tune, however you want to see it. It is what Thanksgiving means to me: the sound stripped-down like the trees, leaving one with little to cover the truth beneath. The reflection on life’s essentials goes well with the coming starkness of the season. It provides fuel for the coming winter, a reminder that the light will come again to our lives.

I’ve discovered that often, autumn songs are used to sing about loss, breakups, or other misfortunes. But they can also be about digging deep into the soul to find that inner strength to carry on, knowing that things must yet still get worse before they can get better. They can be songs about brave dignity, simple victories, and lingering hopes that will one day bear fruit.

After all, the trees lose their leaves, but they are not dead. The animals burrow in the ground to hibernate, but they are not dead. The land and air turn colder and whiter, but they are not dead. Life goes on. Life perseveres. But, in order to do so, life must shed nearly all of its summer glory and return to its fundamentals.

What are we truly thankful for at Thanksgiving? A roof above our heads. Heat in the home. Food on the table. Family gathered together. We are thankful for a catalog of the essentials. Music that is bereft of ornamentation, with an honest voice and quiet accompaniment, that to me is a pure expression of the spirit of our American Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is a time to look upon our essentials and to give thanks for their presence and for our own endurance.

Even if those essentials are present in our lives in a diminished capacity, they still remain. There is a way to be thankful, even if those essentials are all but eliminated in our lives. The fact that they are not totally gone means that we are not totally gone. The fact that they are not totally gone means that, though a rough and cruel winter may lie ahead, we will survive it, even barely survive it, but we survive it to find the springtime on the other side.

And that is what I hear in this song. I hear the Spirit of Thanksgiving.

The Great Trade-Off

Which is better, to live a life of ease or to live a life with hardship? I am convinced that the hardship is more important than the ease. While it is nice to have a break from a hard life, it is the hardships of mortality that we are here to experience and to learn from. We do not fully understand the importance of pain, sadness, loss, and death. We may have clues to their importance, but the full value is yet to be revealed to us.

Which leads me to the title, the trade-off between ease and hardship. The grand, Faustian bargain that we all face: do we choose to avoid hardship or to endure it? Do we escape to luxury, or do we make sacrifices? And by luxury, I don’t mean enjoying a few days off from one’s work. I mean a life in which there is little or no work. I know of few paths to luxury that do not involve a crime or great sin of some sort, and none that involve compassion for one’s fellow man. If we have compassion, we work – and work is hardship.

I know of men of great means that nevertheless devote themselves to long hours of service. They know that the hardships they endure on behalf of others are much more important than enjoying their riches. I know of men of little means that will use whatever they can get their hands on to get substances that will remove them from their hardships. I say those things to show that appearances do not always give a glimpse into the hearts of others. We have all kinds of people in the world.

The diversity in the world to come, however, will be limited. Heaven is not known for its broad spectrum of inhabitants. They tend to be people that undertook hardships and not those that escaped them. It is here on this earth, away from God and His perfection, that we are able to experience the deep lessons of mortality. These lessons, in turn, prepare us to return to God.

When we avoid the pain by running to the arms of pleasure, we do not do the things we are meant to do here and set ourselves up for a true hell – regret. After this life, we have memory of things unatoned for, and that is why I choose to work and endure other hardships. That is why I want to do the work of God here, so that I can do the work of God later on. Life here is not supposed to be heaven. If it were, then it would not be here, it would be in heaven.

Trading mortal experiences for a counterfeit of heaven is the great trade-off that we are offered. To accept is to live without pain. To reject that exchange is to life eternally without regret.

Right On, My Brother!

I love music to be happy to. I love music that speaks of a better day and a better way. I love music that lifts me up and shows me the way to go. That means I love this collection. I need to get more of The Staple Singers, that’s for sure.

Is it funk? Is it soul? Is it gospel? Is it rock? Does it matter? It’s definitely resonant of the seventies. Think Jackson 5, Sly and the Family Stone, the O’Jays… yeah, the good stuff. The music is fine stuff on its own, but the spirit behind it takes it all to a higher level. Make no mistake, there’s a message in this music, but it’s an open invitation to everyone that wants to be a brother or a sister to one another. To me, that’s the true spirit of Christ, and it’s something the world can always use more of.

Anyone that thinks choirs of angels singing would be boring beyond belief is obviously not taking into account that Pops Staples is in heaven right now. This stuff never gets old, and that’s important when you contemplate eternity.

Where’s the Earth-Shattering Kaboom?

The Apocalypse, the big one, the big finish, that should have happened by now. With the number of nuclear weapon incidents we’ve had, every one ending with a line about how, but for the one… switch, latch, trigger either failing or holding in such a way to prevent a fully-armed detonation of a weapon, I find it miraculous that the word “every” needs no qualifiers.

Why?

Humans, as a rule, are not any less error-prone since 1945. We’ve had lethal incidents involving nuclear power and even nuclear weapons, but nothing that destroys cities, let alone all life on earth. Make no mistake that the decision to initiate actions with the intent to end all life on earth is in the hands of a very small number of decision-makers. So far, that decision has not been made, either purposefully or accidentally. Early detection and launch control systems have produced conditions that could have resulted in catastrophic, accidental, global thermonuclear warfare. Not just one or two: far too many to count on two hands.

This, on top of our planet having received the blessings of a flawless 4.6 billion year run, at least from the observer bias of being a member of the human species. Had humans popped on the scene simultaneous with the riotous explosion of life in the Permian, while our brains would have given us a grand advantage, there would have been no supply of cheap, efficient fuel directly beneath the surface. Had the world brought forth life in abundance and glory only 100 million years after the planet formed, that life would not walk a metaled world: the supernova dust that brought metals to earth took a span of aeons to accumulate here. I could go on, but Stanislav Lem has already written that essay, so I refer interested readers to seek out his words on this topic. Suffice to say, our planet has a long and fortunate history of being in the right place at the right time.

And here I see another suspension of the laws of probability simply because I draw breath. By rights, I figure that humanity should have snuffed it back in the 60s or 70s… or last week. Why are we still here? Are we really that lucky, or is there a force at work that is preserving us for a later purpose?

Those who know me will not be surprised to see me subscribe to the latter view. There are things that must happen, so they will happen. Events that would interfere with those things that must happen will not be allowed to come to pass. Not just nuclear holocausts: financial collapses, asteroid impacts, solar flares – there are so many things that could destroy life as we know it and as it exists with either complete or near-complete wiping out of the whole of humanity, and yet, they do not impact us, not now, and not for some time.

It’s not just that the end is near. The end is whizzing past our heads. The end can arrive at any time. But I believe that it will not arrive until it needs to. I believe that what stays the end for now is that there is a higher purpose that must be accomplished here. When that purpose is complete, the end to this existence arrives – I believe that is the way with any life, really. But when the end to the purpose for the world being our world, as we know it, when that end comes, there is something else to happen after that.

We do not have forever, but we have as long as we need, provided we are about the business of making better choices and learning how to love better. Today is always the day to strive to do better in our lives.

Atheism and The West

I recently read a discussion in which both of the participants expressed atheism, but one had a softer application of that way of thinking, in which he did not seek to ignore religion, but to eventually phase it out. He called it a “soft atheism.” Well, it was hardly a barn-burner, as the participants differed only by slight degrees. It’s on the level of two intelligent design gradualists speculating on how much of the creative process was autodrive and how much was the hand of God.

I read that discussion and reflected on my own religious experience. To tell me there is no God is as ludicrous as trying to convince me there’s no such thing as Oklahoma. My own experience tells me it is a reality that I must account for as I deal with the universe. The existence of God is not a matter of personal choice: it is a fact as stark and insurmountable as the moon.

To me, the arrogance of Western Civilization demands that there be nothing unseen in order to sustain its thought processes. All depends upon the discovery and the eventual arrival of the human mind at the frontier of the infinite. The West demands of its participants a towering yearning towards the goal of human supremacy. Even its major religious turmoil – the Reformation and Wars of Religion – was fought over the notion that perhaps man needed one less intermediary between him and God than was supposed in the Roman Catholic dogma; a notion that can, to me, be clearly placed on a continuum between the statements in that article and the Renaissance, which itself was a questioning regarding who an ultimate authority should be, man or God?

But in that quest to place man at the head of all things rational, there is no safe place for any thought that raises a question of man’s ultimate destiny to be a God unto himself, with no need for any other concept of God. In spite of eyewitnesses with testimony to the contrary, God must be dismissed as a non-factual construction of minds affected this way and that by certain chemical reactions in the body and mind. Ultimately, the same must be done for other spiritual concepts such as love and devotion. Either they are outputs of biochemical processes or they are simply myths.

For, to me and to many others, God is synonymous with and equivalent to love. I find no explanation for my love, or for the love of others, save that I love because I love. Biochemistry tells me that infatuation is explainable by a rush of chemicals that lasts from 18-36 months. Is my body somehow faulty and in need of a cure if I continue to experience the symptoms of infatuation towards my wife some 27 years after meeting her? Or are there deeper, spiritual mechanics at work that do not fit tidily into the notions of man and his place in the universe as determined by The West?

A friend of mine recently linked me to a document that amounted to an 87-page compendium of arguments regarding the grounds for deeming my religion to be inconsistent with itself and therefore false. Prior to any factual refutation of those arguments, I have in front of me not only my personal witnessing of God, but that of my ancestors and people of their day. God spoke to me, and he spoke to them. We are witness to the fact that God is God.

Is the experience a repeatable one? Absolutely, but the preparation is non-trivial. Much as one does not simply pile up enough cut stone and labor and proceed to construct a Rome in a day, one does not simply say, “All right. Let God speak to me, too, then I shall believe in his existence.” The belief in his existence is a prerequisite to experiencing his existence. It is not enough to believe, either: the mind must be ready to receive a word from God, and that involves a re-ordering of influences in one’s life. Just as moving quickly through a forest while listening to music through headphones and looking only at a cell phone screen will render one incapable of noticing the birds in the trees, so exposing ourselves to stimuli that diminish our spiritual sensitivities will render us incapable of noticing God.

But I and many others have prepared ourselves, and we have experienced the truth that God is God.

There are those that had once been prepared to receive God, but who participated in activities that diminished their spiritual sensitivities. They are those that believe no more. There are those that received God in one way, but, through different thoughts born of their experiences, now receive him in a different way. There are those that never truly prepared to receive God, who think they have prepared correctly, who then testify quite vocally and sincerely their experience that God is not God. So be it. But I will not let a blind man try to tell me that colors are ultimately imaginary and that I really should focus on the good things that I associate with colors rather than the colors themselves. Likewise, one who squints or closes his eyes or refuses to look in a certain direction cannot inform me that I am in error. I know what I know, because I have prepared myself in the way I have been told will produce a successful reproduction of the results of others’ experience with God. I prepared and I let myself be patient, and the word of God came to me.

A close analogy to this to me is that of a hunter or a fisherman or a farmer. To succeed as any of those, there is much preparation, but there is also great patience involved. One must not only have the right gear, not only be in the right place at the right time, but also have the right frame of mind to be patient, to understand that every rustle in the bush is not a target, every tightening of the line is not a bite, and that no plant will bear fruit overnight.

Indeed, consider further the experience of the farmer, for that is a frequent analogy in religious teachings. Weeds can spring up among the desirable plants, and they are nearly indistinguishable in their early stages. Droughts can pass over a land, leaving barren the fields of hope. Vermin can devour the fruit in the field. All these and more can plague the farmer: the patient among their number will abide another season. The impatient will abandon the profession. I’ll end the analogy there.

No, I won’t. The supermarket, where all those non-farmers will get their food, is itself a massive demonstration of faith that, despite a massive amount of unknowns, the food will be there when we desire it, and all will be well. It is a massive expression of that ideal from The West, that man will triumph through better organizational methods, better scientific knowledge, and better understanding of how a society should work.

But who does not trust in mankind the way The West does so powerfully in its supermarkets and other economic structures? Survivalists, those who hoard up food and other things because they suspect that the whole business of The West is capable of sudden implosion, are certainly those that do not share the belief that others will provide food for them. They want to be self-sufficient in that category. So it can be with God: rather than trusting that the beliefs of others will lend a salubrious effect to eventually calm and heal humanity of its rages and woes, those that choose to believe in God are those that wish to be self-sufficient in the healing and calming categories.

There are those that profess to believe in God that offer neither healing nor calming to humanity: I assure you that such persons are not true believers in God.

Anyway, back to the idea of Survivalists: they certainly do not trust other men to be their salvation in the world. Before the wave of millennialist defection from the trust in The West that we see today, however, there were others that chose to not only keep a supply of food always handy, just in case man made mistakes about supply chain management: They also kept a faith in God handy, just in case man made mistakes about biochemical determinism explaining all the phenomena associated with spiritual experiences.

I am one of those people, and my ancestors were numbered among those people that did not place trust in the arm of man. I suppose I can say that I come from a long line of defectors from Western Civilization. I can look back to a will written in 1745 in which William Webb passes down to his descendants a testimony of his grandfather’s about the reality of God, the imminent day when he would restore his church, and the reality that we can all join with God after this mortal existence, even if we were born before the day that God’s truth was again restored to the earth.

I read that 1745 document and I see in it a powerful wording of basic Mormon doctrines. I do say “powerful”, for there is a spiritual effect upon me as I read it. It is more, far more, than the feeling I have when I realize that I am correct in a guess about something through someone else’s confirmation of experience that I was not privy to. No, there is more to that feeling I have and I can only say it is through preparation that I experience that feeling. But I see my faith, the tenets of my religion, expressed by a voice from the dust. Now what am I to do with that other than face my religion and either accept the truths I know it embodies, or to reject the truths and create a paradox in my life in which I must actively deny what I know to be true? Absent your own personal experience with God, you do not have such a dilemma. Absent an experience with God, you cannot have such a dilemma. And, knowing that there are those that do not share my religion but yet believe in God, this experience will confirm to you the portions of your own faith that intersect with mine.

For me and my family line, most of us have defected from a bargain with The West. Even my relatives that don’t share my core religious beliefs still persist in a suspicion that The West is not as permanent as some would make it out to be. The Webbs that I know tend to hoard a little food, a cache of weapons, perhaps more ammunition than may be deemed necessary for recreational purposes… now, does this mean that I’m from a distinguished line of nutcases that shares a common delusion that Western Civilization is headed for a collapse, which underlines a possible biochemical explanation about why I identify so strongly with both The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as well as economic observers that point to flaws in the system? Perhaps my family are all nutcases – and I am further delusional in imagining that, somehow, we are distinguished.

Or, perhaps, we might be sensitive to the flaws in The West because of our experiences and those of the people around us. My family on my Father’s side comes from Arizona. If you’ve ever spent time in that state, you know it to be a place where, generally speaking, there is a strong sentiment towards opting-out of Western Civilization, particularly in regard to how California used the structures of The West to appropriate rather a lot of water from the Colorado River. Dissent from The West runs high in Arizona, and that dissent is born of a common experience there. When I discovered that dissent, I found that it fit in with my own dissent from The West.

My own personal dissent from The West began long before I joined up with the Mormons on an official basis. I recall the powerful effect that James Burke’s “Connections” series had upon me – the first episode most strongly. In it, Burke asked what happens to us when the lights go out because technology itself fails. It’s happened before, and then the lights came on again. What happens if they don’t come back on? What then?

Burke asks a very rational question that casts a shadow of doubt over the idea of The West as a perpetual expression of human civilization. Through technological arguments, he constructed a scientific extension of Oswald Spengler’s assessment that The West, like other civilizations, would experience a downward cycle as surely as it experienced an upward one: an ending as surely as it experienced a beginning.

And what of the thoughts of The West, after the civilization that gave them impetus is no more? I believe that when the noise and distraction of The West is no more, we will have a great stillness around us. In that stillness, it will likely become much easier to prepare to hear the word of God. And, while I know there are people that would deny the existence of God to his face, a great many more people will one day affirm the existence of God without having seen his face at all.

A Fun Idea

If you’re lucky enough to be able to work with little kids, try this idea out. I’m talking about kids aged 5-8, by the way. Anyway, strike up a conversation with the 5-8 year old by asking a question. If the question is the start of a riddle, so much the better. Do it totally straight and don’t plan on giving the punch line, because the story that kid is going to tell is going to leave you wondering why in the world Hollywood isn’t having 5-8 year olds write film scripts.

I had one such conversation today that started with “Why do sharks like to swim in salt water?” The riddle answer, of course, is “Because they sneeze too much in pepper water,” but the 6-year-old I put this question to told a sweeping tale of undersea drama, adventure, and harsh consequences for hapless humans that don’t respect the habitat of the salt-water shark. It was delightful.

He then asked if I knew how to play rock-paper-scissors. Of course I did, and we started into the game. Pretty soon, we had rules for dynamite, lizards, guns, swords, the number four, Transformers (which can be beaten by swords, in case you did not know), tornadoes, and what do to when both players play “rock”: do a fist bump and say, “BROS!”

I remember watching Bill Cosby and Danny Kaye working with kids. When I was a kid, I loved those interactions. As an adult, I love them just as much, even if now for different reasons. Don’t argue, don’t try to correct, just ask lots of questions and be enthusiastic about seeing the possibilities in what the kid suggests. I’ve had fun discussing all kinds of things with kids over the years, including what’s the difference between elephants and prunes, what’s worse than finding a worm in your apple (hint: it’s an alligator in your apple), and the possibilities of earning a hundred dollars A MINUTE as a lawyer.

Welcome to the Wilderness

Years ago, I started blogging with a site called Sobaka.com. There were some incredibly interesting voices there, and all the writers did their homework. They found connections between some of the most horrific evils perpetrated in the world and some of the most globally esteemed world leaders and organizations. When I started to write there, I worked at making the connections… and I found myself in the wilderness.

The USA’s invasion of Iraq was just underway, and I was one of the few that was saying it was a terrible idea and that it would not end well. I said what I had to say and endured being ignored. Other voices joined with me as the years wore on, but that didn’t draw me into the mainstream. They joined me in the wilderness. They, too, got ignored.

The Panic of 2008 hit and I was there to find connections. I was used to being in the wilderness, so I was used to being ignored. At that time, though, I noticed there were many more people with me that were being actively ignored by those that walked in the halls of power. They were surprised to find that, as a majority of voices in a land that claimed to be based upon democratic principles, their voices counted for very little.

I read, with a complete lack of surprise, a recent scholarly article that concluded, based upon the high correlation between the passage of unpopular legislation and support for that legislation among elites, that the USA was no longer a republic of the people, but an oligarchy. There is the occasional concession to the notions of democracy here and there, but only to sustain a hopeful illusion that popular voices in the USA still have a meaning.

The good news is that life still goes on under an unrepresentative oligarchy. Yes, your government ignores you and you grate under a system that treats those outside of power with unrelenting cruelty and allows those in power to commit all manner of heinous crimes and then pay a few pennies’ worth of fines, if not walk free altogether. Yes, it’s a dread to realize that your government fears you to the point of keeping the general population under surveillance, and that it will forcefully move to smash any movement that threatens to upend the existing power structure, even if the movement is simply an appeal to human dignity.

Life goes on, indeed. Such was the world of Jesus. Such was the world of Gandhi. Such was the world of Martin Luther King, Jr. Such is the world of the USA. I choose those names because they embodied lives of truth, honesty, and love – and a refusal to compromise on their values. Yes, they were all killed for those uncompromising lives of truth, honesty, and love, but at the end of the day, their lives had those values, and therefore, their lives had value.

To me, the message of Jesus is most important. He that truly had all the power, but the proper use of his power was not to dominate, but to find the people in the wilderness and to bring them in, to bring them together. He used his power to teach and to give true hope to those that were completely outside the worldly power structure. His message was simple: love will be your reason to live.

So, as I live my life in a nation that promises me freedom, but would kill me without a trial in an instant if I was so much as just near someone that it considered to be a threat, I do not plot how to take power. I do not plan how to join the power structure. I do not desire any of that. I look to Jesus’ example of life in the wilderness. The most important message to deliver is his message of love, for that is what sustains us. Not freedom, not justice – which can be stolen by those in power – but love.

A Voice From the Dust

Just today, I read a comment from a job seeker who was giving up on pursuing his goals. He was frustrated, and quotes from famous people that were very, very successful only seemed to make him more depressed. I wrote a response, because I was in the same position. Believe me, there were times when seemingly inspirational quotes only reminded me of how low my position was. What I needed then was a voice on my level. Thankfully, I have access to such a voice.

No quotes from famous people here. Just my great-great-gradnfather. In 1912, he had to flee Mexico with his family – children and grandchildren – because of the revolution there. He left everything behind. This was not the first time in his life he had to abandon everything and take his family miles and miles away from where he had settled.

He was 65, and arrived at Tucson, Arizona just before summer started. Summer in Arizona is brutally hot. He and his family lived in tents. Although he was a skilled teacher and had started schools across the West, he had no teaching jobs. Although he was a skilled brickmaker, there was no demand for that trade, either. So he got a job pulling mesquite tree stumps out of the ground. In Arizona. In the summer. While living in tents.

When asked about his situation, he said, “Next year will be better.”

And it was.

It wasn’t better because he knew it would be better. It was better because he believed and hoped it would be – and he took the actions he needed to take in order to make those hopes and beliefs become a reality.

If you want to give up hope, that is your choice and your decision. As for me, last year I was ready to leave my career of teaching and become a networking professional. At this time last year, I was saying “Next year will be better.”

Well, I took my great-great-grandfather’s example to heart. I worked hard – thankfully not pulling up mesquite stumps in the desert heat – and got my CCNP. I had some very very old experience in systems and networking, but I know it was the CCNP and the skills I learned in pusuing that cert that got me my internship, first job back in IT, and from that, the job I have now, which I enjoy greatly.

If you decide right here, right now, that “Next year will be better,” and are prepared to make great sacrifices in order to realize that goal, you can do it. You will prevail at finding the goal that others have abandoned, simply because you will still keep trying and the ones that abandon your goal will make room for you.

This much I do know – if I had kept my certifications active during the 11 years I had been a teacher, I would have had an easier time in my initial job search. I had an expired MCSE and CCDA. I’m going to recertify on the CCDA this year and then pursue CCDP/CCNP R&S after that, because as nice as things are now, I have decided that “Next year will be better.”

So never mind Edison, never mind Michael Jordan, never mind Martin Luther King, Jr., and never mind Gandhi. Never mind Thomas Jefferson, never mind Abraham Lincoln, never mind Steve Jobs, and never mind any other inspirational quote from someone that attained heights you think are unattainable. Listen instead to my great-great-grandfather, Edward Milo Webb, Jr. Listen to a voice that speaks from the dust, the dust from which he pulled up mesquite trees, and the dust upon which he spread his tent. Listen to a voice that came from behind a smile that endured the hardest of hard times and that spoke of a hope that fueled his soul all the time it was on this earth. Listen to the voice that spoke truly, and make it your own voice:

Next year will be better.