SUN - RISE

 

I had the opportunity to sit with the sunrise this morning.  I had my camera with me, so in between moments of enjoying the colours in the sky before me, I would also take photos.  My mother was still in bed and wasn't up to see the sunrise, so I sent her pictures and video footage and she was able to enjoy the sunrise with me.  

Webster is clear that we see the sunrise, not because the sun is moving above the earth's horizon, but because the earth is rotating.  That wasn't always the belief.  But even in 2024, does it matter to me which cosmic ball is on the move.  In the moment, it seems enough for me just to enjoy the beauty that the sunrise provides.  

My agnostic approach to most things allows me to just sit with the moment with no need to analyze the why's and wherefores.  I really don't need to understand the science of light refraction and atmospheric effects to enjoy it's colourful show.  

My favourite shots this morning were perspective shots.  I wanted to see the sunrise through the weeds in the field.  That is the perspective I have of most beautiful things in my life.  Life is lived looking through the weeds.  My choice is to find the beauty, even with the weeds.   They shared the sunrise with me this morning.  They were my companions on watch as the earth turned ever so slightly every minute to reveal different reflections and refractions of the light that penetrates our atmosphere.    

The love of beauty is strong with Enneagram 4's.  We don't need to explanations or answers to admire and be in awe of the incredible artistry that shows up on the sky's canvas.  

Maybe taking photographs every thirty seconds hinders the moment.  Maybe there would be another level of cosmic connection without the presence of my iPhone.  But then I would only be enjoying the sunrise by myself, and I would rather miss soaking in the magnificence of the moment, than to be lonely.  I was able to share the photos with more than just me this morning... and that gives me greater joy than just sitting in solitude with the sunrise.  This morning, that was the better choice.  

ROCKS: WHY I COLLECT THEM

I did a tally this year of the amount of rocks that I have in my yard that have accumulated over the fifteen years I've lived here.  They amount to over 650.  I have them all around my house and in my gardens.  I've collected them from B.C, Alberta and Saskatchewan.  Where ever I go, I bring one or two home with me, but most of them have come from my Mom's rock pile on her farm.  There are big rocks, small rocks, pebbles, round rocks, flat rocks and rocks of all shapes and sorts.  There are white rocks, red rocks, grey rocks and a mix of all different kinds of colours.  But the one thing I think they all have in common is that they are old, and that is why I like them so much.  

They are most likely the oldest thing I have in my possession.  I like to imagine that some of them were around when the earth was being formed. They must hold stories that would amaze the most brilliant geologists.  

I've had a fascination for rocks since I was a B.C. farm girl.  I remember going down to the creek that ran across our property in Flatrock and seeing the great rock spread.  At that age, I don't think I could have been more fascinated with the Grand Canyon than I was with the creek in our own back yard.  I didn't have a narrative then that allowed me to imagine them as four billion year old playmates, but they were amazing none the less.  

I feel grounded with presence of rocks that were around when no humans were here.  It's like they have a purity about them that wasn't messed with because of the absence of the human factor.  I can hold one rock in my hand and have every generation of humanity that ever existed pass by me in that moment.  We are but a spec of dust in Earth's timeline by comparison.  

I don't know how old my rocks are.  I can only imagine.  I can do a Google search and come up with some numbers that geologists have put out there, but when it comes down to the actual ages, I can only imagine.  I guess that is what makes it so wonderful.  I have no limits.  The data isn't really that important when it comes to connecting with Earth's primal energy that formed those very rocks.  That is exciting for me.  

I think when the sun comes up, I will go outside and spend some time with that energy and take some pictures of my rocks.   

 

TURTLE ISLAND

 

Every child grows up with stories and myths, but do they grow up understanding the value of story and myth?   Especially beyond it’s need to be factual to be valuable.  Oh how I wish I could have understood that value as a child.  But stories either had to be true or false and the false ones never held as much importance as the “true” ones.  The whole value of story was shadowed by the need to convey the ‘truth”.  

* * * 

'Turtle Island' is the name for the lands now known as North and Central America. It is a name used by some Indigenous peoples who believe their land was formed on the back of a turtle.

Though regional versions exist, the core of this creation story relates to a time when the planet was covered in water. Different animals all tried to swim to the bottom of the ocean to bring back dirt to create land but they all failed. A muskrat was the last animal to attempt the task. The muskrat swam deep and remained under water for a long time. Eventually the muskrat resurfaced with some wet soil in its paws. Sadly the swim took the muskrat’s life, but Nanabush (a supernatural being who has the power to create life) took the soil and placed it on the back of a turtle. With this act, land began to form and so became Turtle Island. (deadlystory.com)

* * * 

The Turtle Island story is the story of my home, of the land where I was born.  This is why it is special for me. It needs no other validation to be significant.  I was born in Northern British Columbia, a province rich in their indigenous heritage.  As I write this, I am in British Columbia.  I have returned “home” this week to where I began my life’s journey.  I value the stories that have soaked this land.  I wish I could hear more.  

The turtle has become special to me because of this story.  I have two turtle pendants that I wear that remind me to stay grounded to this story and my homeland. Over time, more stories arise that make those turtles special.  The persistence of one such turtle is another story that reminds me to keep going regardless of the obstacles.  The story of the vulnerability of another turtle encourages me; it’s the one who in order to get somewhere has to first emerge from its shell.  

These turtle stories are valuable to me.  They don’t have to be factual to enrich my life.  

EARTH: MY HOME

I admire Webster, but his mixing of science and religious narrative seems to be at odds with each other.  He states that Earth is a "terrestrial globe" and then goes on to quote the Genesis creation story which is more in line with a flat earth understanding.  

Growing up in my family, I was never exposed to the "flat earth" ideology.  My grandparents had a globe and that was the narrative I was raised with.  I didn't know that "flat earth"was a thing until I was in my forties and I was introduced to someone who held the opinion that the earth was not a globe.  I looked on line to find that there are a few people riding this planet around the sun that don't know the kind of car they are in.  It must be like riding in a Ferrari and believing you are in a Volkswagon Beetle.  Maybe if one had the opportunity to venture outside the car, they might be able to see that it is a very different ride, but most people that ride this planet don't have that opportunity.  A handful of people have left Earth's atmosphere and seen the Earth from orbit.  No one has to convince them that the Earth is a globe.  

Maybe there is enough evidence (there's that sticky word again), that the earth is "the third rock from the sun", not a pancake in space.  I haven't seen it aside from pictures, so I have as much proof as the flat earthers have.  I just don't believe in a flat earth.  I like the idea that we are on the ride of our life, circling the sun at 107000 kph.   

The Earth is my home.  It's my only home.  I have no dreams of Heaven any more than I have dreams of moving to Mars.  Both are inaccessible to me.   This rock in space is where I started my life's journey and it will be were I end it.  

There are so many elements of Earth that have enriched me that I want to share in the following chapters/posts.   Maybe I'm a naturalist.  Nature is where I find my soul.  Nature is where I connect with the energy that gave me life.  Nature is the voice that speaks to my mind when it is troubled.  I feel kinship to the elements from the living breathing elements to the more stationary elements.   I'm still not comfortable with labels, but maybe the closest I can come to defining myself with a common label, would be that of a naturalist.  I just wish I had known that decades earlier.  I would have paid more attention in Biology class.  

 

WHAT IS TRUTH: THE WORDS ONLY PONTIUS PILATE DARED TO ASK

For the most part, the words that I share in this narrative journey will be ones that complement the narrative.  They are words that I have found significant in describing where I am now.  But on occasion, there might be a word I bring to the story that I need to talk about, that no longer contributes to the narrative.  Today, I bring such a word.  It's "Truth".

Truth is a loaded and explosive term for me.  It has been for a while.  Truth seems to be like a feral cat that frequents multiple homes on its daily journey for food.  One homeowner that feeds the cat in the morning will say... "That's my cat", but then the cat moves on and gets lunch from another house.  Again, the next homeowner declares "That's my cat, he comes every day for lunch."  And the cat moves on to the next house for supper, again being claimed to be the property of the next home.  Maybe that cat has access to the house and might stay awhile before moving along.  But at the core of the identity of that cat, it belongs to no one.  That is "Truth"

I liked one of the definitions put out by Webster for this word.  

 "Conforming to fact and reality to the utmost extent that these are discoverable by the human mind."

Even Webster admits there is a limit to what truth can offer the conversation.  The human mind is the limit.  We are the limit.  Which means that beyond us as humans and our interpretations of the facts laid before us, there really is nothing beyond that we can call truth.  

Webster equates "ascertained fact in science" with "sound, reliable doctrine in religion".  Those two camps have been on a battle ground for centuries.  How can one word mean both things?  It's why the word "truth" has no place anymore in my narrative.  I hold that word at arms length, only passing it in conversation by other human minds that seem to think that cat belongs to them.  

I don't do much, if any, bible reading anymore.  I find more camaraderie now with this old dictionary that I do with the bible.  But if anyone were to ask me what my favourite verse is at this current time, I would have to quote the man who stood before Jesus with the question of all time.  "What is truth?"  I admire Pilate. When confronted with what most people would just believe on faith, Pilate asked the question.  If my memory serves me correctly, he didn't get an answer to that question before sentencing Jesus to death.  I wonder if an answer would have changed history.  

ENERGY: IT'S WHAT LIVES ON

I'm not a physicist.  I can't explain energy with any scientific accuracy.  I could present my hypothesis and have it easily debunked by a forum of much smarter people than me.   But energy explains so much in my life that it is hard to ignore it.  

"According to the law of conservation of energy, energy cannot be created or destroyed, although it can be changed from one form to another. " Wikipedia

This little factoid is why I can talk to my dead family members and not think I'm crazy.  I don't expect any answers; I had a hard time getting those out of Jesus when I believed in him.  What makes me keep alive a connection is the understanding that energy doesn't stop existing when we stop breathing.  Where does that energy go?  Does it return to the stars?  Does it roam around the universe?  Does it perch itself on my deck when I am soaking in the hot tub wanting answers that I didn't get when my family was alive?  I wish I knew.  But in reality, I don't have to know. It is my best coping method for surviving family loss.  

Energy explains a lot of things in my day to day life.  It explains why I get tired after experiencing someone's heavy emotion.  My own energy drains because of that heaviness.  Energy is motion.  I like that definition.  It is the wind around me.  It is connected to the Flow.  I see the two are entwined somehow.  When I experience Flow, I experience the Energy of the Universe moving around me.  I can accept that... maybe not as a scientific fact... but as part of a blossoming narrative that I am okay to live with for now.  

THE FLOW: MAYBE JUST ANOTHER LABEL FOR GOD.

 

The day my sister died, my mother showed up at my house at nine o'clock at night.  In the midst of the standard responses to discovering that a family member has tragically died, my mother said something that I was unable to respond to at the time, but my husband came to my rescue. 

Mom: I don't know how you can do this without Jesus.

Hubby: It's okay, Mama.  She's not lost.  We just have another label for it. 

Let me tell you about the"Flow".  I call it my common ground between myself and my husband.  It is what he was talking about that night.   The God label doesn't work for me anymore but my husband still understands a Creator and has a connection to that Creator.  I needed something to share with him without compromising our own views of life...  something not threatening to our own narratives... something just for us.  

The flow is the term we use for a lot of things in our home.  Our cats in their moments of extending comfort and closeness to us... bring us flow.  When things move around us and we can't nail it down to a direct cause, we say it's the flow.  When Hubby has a new connection with another human being, he might say it was the flow that brought that human being across his path.  

"Wait a minute." Some may say,  "That's still God, you just are using a different label."  

Maybe...  maybe it might seem that I'm still trying to explain the unexplainable with something outside of myself.  I wish I could either confirm or deny that assumption.  But I can't.  

I often see birds move in a pattern that makes me thing they are connected to something beyond their own brain.  They move together. They don't ask the other birds which direction to move.  They just move together in formation. I call that the flow.  It doesn't require conscious consent, it just requires movement.  I'm not a bird, I can't explain it beyond that.  

I already said this is my common ground with my husband.  It works for us.  One of the most attractive things in nature for me has been rivers.  They are the picture of flow for me.  How they start, where they originate, how they gain momentum and volume... these are all questions I can't comprehend on any given day.  I just stand at the shore and admire the water.  That is how it is with the flow.  

I am not a scientist and at this juncture of my life... I don't have to be one.  It's not always the natural progression when one leaves a narrative.  Often a lot of people have embraced a certain narrative for decades.  I was in my fifties when my childhood narrative made it's final exit.  That is not the age to start revisiting Physics and Biology classes.  I get to live now without having to explain things like I once had to.  How I go forward is my journey and no one else's.  

One more thing... the word that follows flow in the dictionary is flower.  One of my favourite things in nature.  How precious is that!  

LUCK: GOOD, BAD OR JUST PLAIN

 It's Friday the 13th today.  What better day than to talk about "Luck". My 'older than me' Webster's dictionary calls it...  "Chance regarded as the bringer of good or ill fortune."  But for me, it's the word that fills the hole in my life left by the absence of the belief of a controlling deity.  

There is a clip from an Australian TV show starring Tim Minchin (Lucky) and Milly Alcock (Meg) called "Upright". It's about two very different people who collide on a road and team up to travel across Australia with an upright piano in the back of a truck.  There is a conversation that Lucky and Meg have in the first episode that explains so much.  

Upright "Nothing happens for a reason" clip

Meg: I don't believe in accidents.

Lucky: Oh, great, I'll tell the car hire company.

Meg: No, dickhead. I believe in car accidents. I just don't believe in... accidents, as in…

Lucky: Coincidences.

Meg: Coincidences, coincidences, yeah.  Yeah, I don't believe in coincidences. Everything happens for a reason. It's just, like too many things have to happen to make a thing happen. You know? If I'd have done one thing different today, one tiny thing, like if I'd have brushed my teeth for longer, then I wouldn't have been on the road at that specific point, would I? And maybe you would've ran into somebody else and... and killed them or ran into a tree and been crashed in a... a burning wreck, and I wouldn't... have even known or given a shit.

Lucky: Have you heard of ELO?

Meg: Earlobe?

Lucky: ELO, British fusion band from the 1970's, ELO?  Oh, it doesn't matter.

Meg: No.

Lucky: So, one of the founding members of ELO was Mike Edwards, right? A cellist.

Meg: What’s a cellist?

Lucky:  It’s a person who plays the cello.

Meg: Right.

Lucky: Anyway, one day Mike Edwards is driving along a road

in Devon, in England. And one of those huge hay bales rolls down a hill and lands on his car. Kills him instantly. He didn't even know what hit him.

What are the chances, hay? Well...Devon is pretty hilly, so let's say, one in ten of those hay bales sits on some kind of slope. And maybe one in a thousand of them sometimes goes for a little roll. And let's say maybe one in twenty of those slopes leads to a road where a car goes past any given point some number of times an hour. And maybe one in every three or four thousand of the drivers of those cars is an artist of some repute.

So, the chances that one day one of those hay bales was gonna kill a moderately well known cellist is...reasonably high. Well, not high, but...The thing is, when the numbers are big enough, which they are, one in a million things happen all the time.

Nothing happens for a reason. Or everything happens for no reason. One of those.

Meg: You are so boring.

"When the numbers are big enough, which they are, one in a million things happen all the time."  Lucky

Understanding this premise means I can let go of the need for the cosmos to be controlled by an external source.  It becomes easier to explain life with luck or chance being the driving force now.  I'm still not that good at explaining much, but I can understand what's probable because this simple conversation.  It doesn't exclude the possibilities of something other than luck or chance.  It allows for people to hold on to their beliefs if that is what works for them.  It just gives someone like me something else that makes a little more sense than what I had before.  That was all I was looking for.  

( Upright is an Australian comedy drama television series created by Chris Taylor that premiered on 28 November 2019 on Sky Atlantic in the United Kingdom, and on 1 December 2019 on Fox Showcase in Australia.^[1] The series stars Tim Minchin and Milly Alcock in the lead roles, with Minchin also writing and composing.^[2] The series was later broadcast on Super Channel in Canada and on SundanceNow in the USA.

In October 2021, the series was renewed for a second season, which premiered in its entirety on 15 November 2022 on Fox Showcase in Australia and moved to Sky Comedy in the UK.^[3]) 

MEANING: WHERE EXACTLY DOES IT COME FROM?

 

Some time in the summer of 1967, my parents had sex and I was the result.  So when people ask me the existential question of how I came to be, that is my answer.  It seems quite simple.  "My parents had sex."  No one can dispute that. It is well known knowledge now. Good-bye stork myth.  

When people ask that question, more often than not, they might be looking for something behind and beyond the gathering of two souls and bodies on a B.C. summer night.  They are looking for my understanding of the grand plan of the cosmos.  But as Dr. Pete Enns says "That's beyond my pay grade."  

Leaving behind the narrative of the first five decades of my existence has actually simplified my life.  I no longer have to do the mental gymnastics routine to explain the unexplainable.  I no longer have to know what happened beyond the meeting of one sperm and one egg.  That was a weight lifted from my shoulder.  I don't even know how that sperm and egg made me.  The story sounds fascinating... but the mechanics of how it actually works.  I didn't take that class in college.  

Maybe the other reason that sex isn't enough of an answer for people, is the whole subject of "Meaning".  It's okay if animals have sex and create other animals and life goes on for them, but for some reason,  humans need meaning.  We need a purpose; we need a reason for living.  It's not enough to just be.  

I've heard a lot of voices lately that say that there is no meaning in the universe.  The universe doesn't care about us.  Actually, those voices will cite evidence that the universe is trying to kill us.  Evidence... there's that word again.  But it makes sense.  It explains the natural disasters.  This world is not a safe place for most of us.  So if the universe doesn't care about us, where do we find meaning?  And here is the narrative that excites me.  

We are the meaning makers.  We live in a universe that is meaningless and somehow that same universe "gave birth" to a species of meaning makers.  I like that narrative.  I can't explain it, but I like it.  I no longer have to wait for someone else to define my purpose.  I can go on the journey of discovery and find it myself.  It might take a while, because that journey back to self is a long one for most.  That is where we eventually find that the meaning is in us.  We are the meaning makers.  

My favourite synonym of "meaning" is significance.  Like a valuable pearl, significance isn't first found on a necklace in a store for others to see and admire.   This treasure is first  harvested from within a living creature and with a lot of care and precision, only then can the pearl be taken out and displayed for the world to see.  Now that's a cool narrative.  

REMEMBER... IT'S WHAT I WANT TO DO HERE

It's 9-11 today.  Only one word comes to mind today.  "Remember".  As an Enneagram 4, I am prone to be past focused.  I don't wander too far into the future.  I don't worry about tomorrow.  I am less susceptible to anxiety.  The past is important to me.  I can't really define how it has formed my world view, except to say that I value my time on Earth more.  The here and now is important to me.  I don't live with my head in the clouds or in an afterlife.  I remember the past more vividly than most.  I find value in connecting with people from my past, even though I am not in a current relationship with them.  My experiences teach me things that I want to hold on to.  

Grief matters.  I am familiar with grief and sadness.  It's another common place for Enneagram 4's.  We are well acquainted with sorrow.  Today, for me,  was about remembering what happened twenty-three years ago.  I didn't know anyone who died in the 9-11 events, but somehow that day is a day that I feel the need to honour and I need to remember, not necessarily what happened, but who died.  There has been controversy shrouding the events of 9-11... and mine is not to conclude any of the details that people can't agree on.  Mine is to weep with those who are still weeping.  Mine is to listen to their stories.  Mine is to understand that regardless of the details of those tragic events... people died and more people died later and even more people are still hurting today because they don't have those people in their lives.   Some days weeping is all I feel I can do... and on those days maybe weeping is enough.  

 

EVIDENCE AND SENSE: WHAT DOESN'T WORK FOR ME AND WHAT DOES.

Let me come out of the gate first with what doesn't add to my story, even through it will raise some concern among some others.  That is the whole subject of "Evidence".   

I have heard a lot of voices from the AHA community (Agnostic, Humanist, Atheist ) that evidence is the driving force behind their life's direction.  Evidence or lack there of is what is the deciding factor for most of their conclusions about the universe and everything that spins around in it.  That is great for those minds who have access to evidence... but where does that leave me?  I've never looked through the lens of a telescope in my life.  The moon looks the same to my naked eye as it did to those people who concluded it was made of cheese.  

To claim that evidence is the foundation of my understanding requires that I have access to something more than just other people's words.  Right now, at this juncture of my life, all I have is people's words for most things that involve my existence.  I don't have access to evidence.  So what then helps me understand my world and follow a different path than my old narrative?  

 

The word is "Sense".  Some call it common sense, but I don't think how I see life is very common.  There are some things that just make sense to me.  I don't have enough confidence in the evidence to get on any platform and convince others of my perspective.  I just embrace it for what it is to me.  Some may call that "belief" and maybe it is.  Who am I to debate their preference for a different label.  

The definition in Webster's for "sense" took up more than one column.  But what stood out for me was this...

"a priori instinct of man to approve what is good and dislike what is evil". 

"Good, sound, practical judgement; normal mental power or understanding; brains"

Some things just make sense to me.  I have no proof that would be admissible in court, I have no ground to convince someone who doesn't agree with me.  There's just something in me that convinces me that there is the better way to process the information I'm given.  

It makes sense to me that the earth is a globe that travels around the sun.  Maybe there is data that can cross my path that would correlate to evidence, but I don't call it that, because I'm not the defence attorney for the cosmos.  It makes sense to me that the earth and the cosmos is very old.  It makes sense that the story of Genesis is a mythical portrait of the beginning of the cosmos.  It makes sense that I am a very small part of a very massive story.  I'm just not the one who can recite the data ad nauseum to anyone.  

I admire people who can do that, and I like to listen to them on occasion with the hope of soaking at least a morsel of what they know.  I just don't have the confidence to take that information to others who need me to be able to justify my position.  

This point of view probably doesn't hold much water with anyone who needs to be certain of their positions.  Those certaintists either require evidence or faith to navigate the world.  I just can't stretch that far.  I am just more comfortable with "This makes sense" or even better...  "I don't know". 

NARRATIVE: A SPECIAL BOOK AND A PLACE TO FIND THE WORDS

There is a book that has been in my family for most, if not all, of my life.  This copy was printed in 1962 and it's in amazing condition.  My grandparents took good care of this book.  I took it home yesterday because of what it might offer me in inspiration.  

I can't say I've had more fun reading a dictionary.  I am amazed at the size of the book and the content within its 2500 plus pages.  

This book is full of words (and pictures).  Words connect with other words and that is when stories are born.  Words connect with other words and that is how we share our feelings.  Words connect with other words and that is the invitation for me to share my narrative.  

This blog is the place where I can share my narrative and this dictionary is going to help me with the words.   Life is a journey.  Each day adds to a person's story.  Experiences and circumstances paint the pictures in that story.  I have a life story and that has been fifty six years in the making.  What I want to share in this blog is a narrative. 

Throughout this blog, I will share Webster's words from this 1962 edition... and see if they have changed over the years and even if I have a different take on what those words mean for me now.  

I am not interested in rehashing past events here that have no bearing on who I am today.  This isn't about the details of my years as much as it's about how I am processing life now.  How am I tracking on this life's journey now?  How do I see my world?   That is what I want to share. That is my narrative.   

For first five decades of my life, I had a narrative that I embraced for my life.  Like this dictionary, the narrative was handed down to me from my family.   And also like this dictionary defines the words in it, that narrative defined me.  It gave me community and purpose.  That narrative was my reason for living.  Now, that narrative no longer supports me on this life's journey.  Because of that transition, there is now a new narrative for me.  It has been slowly growing inside of me, and on occasion finds a place to be somewhat expressed.  

Because I have let go of my former narrative, I have been asked now how I navigate life without it.  Maybe here I can put some of the pieces of the story together and find an response to the concern that my mother expressed to me on the night my sister died.  

"I don't understand how you can do this without Jesus."  

Well, Mom... maybe you can't understand or maybe you won't want to understand... but I need to understand and at least have something to share if someone asks me one day with the intent of receiving an answer.