In which we, along with a disappointed viewer, are are schooled by a very smart cat regarding symbols, meaning, and discourse. If you are not familiar with The Pinky Show, check them out. Though simple, compelling. I always gain at least one new way to look at things. [youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MaESuQQRask[/youtube] If…
Tragedy struck our family suddenly, as it sometimes does, with no real warning signs or portents. One moment, contentment, a morning ritual of oatmeal and coffee, conversation about daily plans, and then a new moment - horror, blood, panic, and my oatmeal bowl in mid-air, suspended. That instant, so short so brutal, shattered us. Driving, driving to the animal emergency clinic - is this too fast? This is too slow - get in that lane - stave off panic, full of dread and fear, breathe in, breathe out dare to hope. So sorry, so sorry, no words to capture the sorrow. The history - years of love and effort and training with a much loved but unpredictable dog with and for whom we worked so hard (not hard enough?), and a greatly treasured older cat who ruled our home like a feisty queen, and with whom the dog always backed down, isn't the point here. But that history was the the fabric of our home, our life. Much effort, so much love and constant awareness. Years and years of vigilance, training and exercise wasn't enough, and now we lose two beloved beings in one short time. We live with that, we grieve, we work to move beyond remorse and guilt. During one of the many trips to the hospital, (so many, an eternity in a few days) I think - this is why we need a heaven. This yearning to know that loss isn't how we end, that there is some goodness waiting to counter this searing pain. That hope would help with my sorrow, with my anger, with my guilt and regret. Too know that my beings will live again, free of pain, happy. That the damage led to perfection. My yearning tastes of tears, so sorry, no words.
Can those who believe in God be good friends with those who don’t believe in God?
A fellow named Martin raised this intriguing point about a week ago here. He suggested that a person who doesn’t believe in God cannot possibly have a real friendship, a deep friendship, with someone who claims to believe in God. As I understood Martin’s point it’s absurd to claim a belief in God; it’s so incredibly absurd that a nonbeliever cannot ever fully trust a believer. In Martin’s view, in order to be true friends, believers need to quit saying those absurd claims about miracles and invisible Beings. And those believers need to stop claiming that they know things that they don’t know. According to Martin, it’s simply not worth it to try to maintain a friendship with people who claim to believe in gods and angels. The craziness exhibited by believers (regardless of all of their other redeeming social values) is a huge roadblock even the possibility of friendship.
I think I understand Martin’s concern. I’m a people who has a smaller number of deeper friendships compared to many other people. I’ve been told that I’m discriminating in my friendships and that’s likely true. I readily admit that I make myself less available to people with whom I have less in common. I admit further that I have often written off the possibility of friendship with some people based upon various beliefs they hold, despite the fact that such people are, in many …
I stumbled onto this excellent column by Damian Thompson about the modern proliferation of pseudo-information. That is, the way various formerly obscure conspiracy cults (UFO’s, moon landing hoaxers, second-shooters, 9/11 Truthers, Flat Earthers, Young Earthers, Inflating Earthers, etc) manage to disseminate their beliefs convincingly to wide and gullible audiences.
Before Gutenberg, only reliable, church-approved texts could be widely read in western culture. Then a new technology came along, and suddenly heretics like Martin Luther or Galileo could publish widely before the church could disappear them and their ideas. It took a few generations to settle down to the publishing and editorial ethic that made it clear which information was reliable and accepted, and which was fringe. It helped that there was still some economic hurdle to wide publication, and publishers needed to maintain their reputations. This lasted until almost the end of the 20th century.
Now, we have the web. Any misinformed but layout-talented individual can produce publications (pages) that look as wise, vetted, and reliable as Britannica. But without the necessity of prissy little details like fact checking or actual expertise in the subjects being purveyed. Must it be another couple of generations before the average browser can tell fact from fancy?
As I was sitting in the Jury holding area last week, I began to read volume one of the "Centennial History of the Civil War" by Bruce Catton: "The Coming Fury". Between periods of listening for my number to be called, I plunged into the 1860 presidential primaries. Those left…