Click here to view the embedded video.

YouTube video by Heal the Bay.org

The connection is there for all of us – in any language, on our own or with help, no matter what color our holy book or science journal. Some find the connection through meditation or prayer; some while contemplating a spectacular starlit sky or holding a child; some only after experiencing a dramatic injury or other traumatic event.  The connection exists whether you intentionally seek it or not.  Sometimes the connection serendipitously finds you. The connection exists no matter how you define God, and even if you consider God a fiction.  If we spend our lives squabbling over the semantics and details, we can miss the value of the connection altogether.

In this beautiful TED talk, neuroscientist Jill Bolte Taylor talks about her discoveries as the result of her 1996 stroke:

Click here to view the embedded video.

More information about Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor and her book, Stroke of Insight, is available at DrJillTaylor.com

Special thanks to Larry Glover at Wild Resiliency who reminded me of this TED talk in a beautiful, candid memorial post he wrote after the death of his father: A Father’s Lessons on Living and Dying.

Click here to view the embedded video.

“Wherever human beings have been around and done their thing, you find rectangles.”

YouTube Video by markwatts02

“Can we connect our empathy to a single race writ large in a single biosphere?” – Jeremy Rifkin

Click here to view the embedded video.

www.thersa.org
via @gregorylent

I do believe in a something-moreness, though: collective consciousness, ultimate source, transcendent connectedness, immanent divine creative field – something in each of us and all of us beyond randomness or biology. I also hold fast to a positivity about some variety of continuance beyond biological mortality – though I’m not addicted to a particular outcome – other than I most assuredly do not believe in hell or other similar eternal punishment scenarios. Frankly, those particular religious stories just seem mean-spirited (excuse the pun). A universal benevolence is integral to my spiritual orientation.

I believe I have personally experienced some moments of personal realization of this benevolent something-moreness – during meditation or contemplation – I call it a fearless peace. It’s a feeling of being enveloped in a radiant lovingness. It doesn’t really matter to me whether my experience is just a fabricated emotional state inspired by a quiet, peaceful landscape; or a particular sequence of neurons firing inside my brain in reaction to trouble or uncertainty – I like the feeling, it’s reassuring. I’m not likely to abandon it. Nor am I likely to pursue it with life-altering zeal – nor feel the need to. It’s always there, I have access to it when I need it. But it’s a bit like a wild animal – hard pursuit alters my relationship with it and moves it further away. Just accepting it as integral to the way things are allows for the comfortable sharing of ground.

Today is Easter. I had enough peripheral Christian upbringing that I can watch the big celebrations with a reasonable level of understanding and appreciation. Even though the whole crucifixion/resurrection tale seems a bit grisly to me, I do like the idea of miracles. Miracle is a good word for the inexplicable – whether it’s a spontaneous remission or some other variety of surviving the unsurvivable; the simpler stuff, like the beauty of a flower or the birth of a child; or the grander versions of those – like love or life itself.

Although I look to science more than spirituality to gain understanding of the world, science itself is something of a miracle when it comes right down to it. I don’t begrudge scientists who pursue the “god” particle – or the “god” neuron, although I think there will always be a part of the unknown that will remain unknowable. Whether collectively or individually, I tend to think by the time we find the ultimate answers, we’ll no longer need to know.

I go through phases of spiritual curiosity and pursuit, then step back – studying the details sometimes feels more like it’s obscuring truth rather than revealing it. I don’t know if it’s inspiration or defensive reaction, but the noisy religious holidays do set me to thinking about these themes more than usual, and perhaps I should thank the biggies for that at least.  This Easter week I’ve been working on a simple way to describe my spiritual orientation without committing to a particular label. So far I’ve got it down to this: I’m confident there’s something afoot beyond randomness and I’m comforted by an ever-present certainty in the overall benevolence of uncertainty.

Some would call that godless. Others might call it God.

Click here to view the embedded video.

]]> http://blogfromahermit.com/2010/04/04/beyond-random-the-benevolence-of-uncertainty/feed/ 2 http://blogfromahermit.com/2010/03/09/political-science/ http://blogfromahermit.com/2010/03/09/political-science/#comments Tue, 09 Mar 2010 19:36:37 +0000 Trish http://blogfromahermit.com/?p=3476 Much of the hoopla over the global warming controversy seems to be the “shocking revelation” that science is being used by (and thus ostensibly soiled and manipulated) by politicians. So? Science has always had a strong thread in and of politics, just like all other human endeavors, including religion. The only non-political human endeavor is probably solitude – and it’s only apolitical to the solitaire. As soon as one other wonders about or tries to find the  hermit, his solitude becomes part of a political debate. All human interaction includes politics. The more people, the more complicated the politics.

Science as the ultimate objectivity has always been an ideal not a fact. Scientists are human, too – with mortgages and egos and tuition debt, too.  Most research is at some level politically funded – whether the funder is the Catholic Church, the Exxon Corporation, or government. (We all know how apolitical government is. Right?) Who gets the money for what research – in our culture often a variable of potential profit in the research product – is part of the process. Unfortunately, money as the engine of research comes with a built-in corruptibility factor – sometimes very subtle, sometimes openly controversial, but rarely completely out of the picture.  Which is worse:  good science with bad intentions or bad science with good intentions?  Add to that debate “whose science” and “whose morality” then define “good” and “bad.” Yeah, I know.

Still there’s good scientists (and some not-so-good) working hard in their labs zealously pursuing “truth.”  There probably is even such a thing as “pure” science happening somewhere in some labs. But even the most ardent and disciplined objectivists among us are still subjective human beings. The process leading up to who gets a lab, how they design the experiment and who does what with any discoveries will always be a function of politics.  The “science” that reaches the masses will always have spin. Most of the “masses” wouldn’t understand the science if you spoon fed it to them straight from the scientist’s mouth. I have great respect for Al Gore’s intentions. I voted for him when he ran for President partially because of his environmental stance. I  have warmist leanings. I am not, however, blind to the inconvenient truth that Al Gore is not a scientist – he “just plays one in a movie.” But science without politics wouldn’t get very far.

And with well-established criteria for peer review and reproducible results, science tends to self-regulate. The global warming controversy really emphasizes the stability of the scientific ideal not its erosion. It’s the old torpedo effect of all human progress – we launch out of the tube in the general direction of our target, we stray off course, we make corrections.

Challenge and controversy have always been a part of scientific progress, whether the battle is between scientists and institutions, or scientists and other scientists. Today’s unavoidable transparency just makes the noise a lot louder and faster – out where we all get to watch and comment. And after all, it is science that brought us the internet – the vehicle of its own exposure.

Climate change is almost a non-term here in Western Washington where the weather is so variable year to year, climate change seems almost normal.  Unlike the rest of the Northern Hemisphere, we’ve just had our warmest winter on record. Last winter we had our taste of the ice age.

But in spite of recent controversies which expose some extremely-careless or just-plain-bad science, there’s some good science behind global warming, too.  Weather extremes are integral to the theory, so discounting the whole idea because your butt’s cold today is definitely throwing the baby out with the bath water.

On the other hand, there’s some very smart people countering the theory and some very good science behind their counter claims. Ironically, the very reason we find global warming so hard to believe when our butts are cold mirrors the reason why global warming has rational skeptics. It really is difficult for us humans (including scientists) to stand far enough back from our tiny little lives to get accurate, objective perceptions. From a geological perspective, the global warming theory itself is just a report on what’s happening right now. Several decades of climate statistics do not necessarily make an arguable trend. Well, obviously it is arguable, but that’s not the same as provable.

But it’s the furor of this discourse that deserves applause. It means awareness of environmental degradation (whatever the cause) has whole-heartedly entered our public consciousness. A recent New York Times article pointed out that therapists are even seeing a trend in environmental issues as a significant cause for family discord. And as much I hate to see families in stress, the environmental dialog matters; and the things that matter most to us should be discussed (and sometimes argued about) in our homes.  An integral environmental consciousness – public and private – represents true progress.

I have warmist leanings.  There’s much more to the theory than whether you should be driving a Prius or a Hummer. But selling global warming as yet another variety of armageddonism is counterproductive and unnecessary. Extremes always create backlash. Most of the noise between warmists and their skeptics is not about whether humans are negatively impacting the environment,  it’s about how, what’s the timeline and what’s the fix.

Anyone completely devoid of environmental awareness at this point is either under-educated, living in impoverished desperation, or choosing to remain intentionally blind. Lack of education and impoverished desperation are both forgivable, and illiteracy and poverty must be addressed as part a holistic environmental dialog.  But intentional blindness, whether motivated by greed or just laziness, is no excuse at all.

But that’s another human foible, isn’t it – it often takes the noise of controversy to force our eyes open. It’s called awakening.

“When people generally are aware of a problem, it can be said to have entered the public consciousness. When people get on their hind legs and holler, the problem has not only entered the public consciousness — it has also become a part of the public conscience. At that point, things in our democracy begin to hum.”

- Hubert Humphrey

I’d also hate to get too attached.  Big trees fall. Some have to be cut down.

And most of our trees grew to their glory before we arrived here – without  the need for words or names. They just are, surviving tough conditions right where they stand, beyond analysis or judgments – and they’re mighty nonetheless. Passive endurance resulting in magnificent splendor. Unintentional artistry. (Though some would say it’s intentional.)

Look upward while standing quietly beneath a big tree. You cannot avoid feeling the power. Imagine what it takes to oppose gravity to that extent, processing sunlight, circulating nutrients and water to such great heights?

Big trees demonstrate the great wisdom of nature – they bend to buffeting winds, lean toward sunlight or bow to obstacles as necessary. When partially knocked down, they slowly redirect themselves back skyward, fortifying themselves even more at the bending point. They shed the unnecessary to better endure and prosper. I admire them.

Hard to believe such giants start out smaller than this volunteer western red cedar struggling for a foothold in our driveway gravel. This 3″ youngster was a seed last summer. I pot and replant more of these little buggers than is practical, but it’s hard for me to think of them as weeds.

The great tree symbology in James Cameron’s Avatar pleased me.  Avatar’s popularity demonstrates a positive direction in our collective consciousness. As little as twenty-five years ago, I doubt if Avatar (with or without 3D) would have captured such a large audience. Twenty-five years ago, only us die hard sci-fi types would have gone. Sure, there are probably more sci-fi enthusiasts now than ever before, but Avatar goes beyond sci-fi – it touches our growing ecological and spiritual awareness – our acknowledgment of an immutable connectedness.

A serendipitious tree article showed up in Griz’ Nuts & Volts Magazine last month. An Idaho company, Voltree manufactures a bioenergy harvester which attaches to a living tree and uses the tree’s metabolic processes to create electricity. The small electrical generators do not harm the tree. (At least we don’t believe they harm the tree.) Of course, the amount of energy you can generate this way is limited – these generators are used to power passive surveillance and scientific monitoring equipment. Still, it’s a kind of symbiosis that tickles me.

Voltree’s products are the kind of green technology we’re heading toward  (very slowly) – ways to use our resources without depleting or harming them.  We are starting to make those critical connections – artistically, figuratively, literally.

Of course, you get a lot more energy (quicker) from a tree if you chop it down and burn it to heat the shelter you’ve built with it’s carcass.  (Intentional shock value.)  See my next post Tree Power Down: Timber!

]]> http://blogfromahermit.com/2010/01/30/tree-power-up-tall-inspiration/feed/ 0 http://blogfromahermit.com/2009/04/29/hermit-psychology-introverts-spinning-donuts-in-the-cave/ http://blogfromahermit.com/2009/04/29/hermit-psychology-introverts-spinning-donuts-in-the-cave/#comments Wed, 29 Apr 2009 18:12:56 +0000 Trish http://blogfromahermit.com/?p=1660 It’s a fair assumption that most intentional hermits are introverts – like Griz and me. There may be a few extrovert hermits about, but they are likely unintentional hermits – living in solitude by accident or sacrificial choice – hiding from the law, castaways on uncharted islands, last-man-on-earth characters like Will Smith in I Am Legend.

Introverts as a whole (not just hermits) are considered a bit odd by many people, though introversion and extroversion have equitable and complementary benefits.  Introverts are a minority though - making up only 25 to 30 percent of the population. The consolation is this: the ratio gradually switches as IQ’s rise – introverts make up 70 to 75% of individuals with IQ’s in 160+ range.

Sigmund Freud’s the guy to blame for declaring introversion a negative pathology. He considered introverts sexually-repressed narcissists who prefer their internal fantasies to real-world engagement. Unfortunately, Freud’s opinion tends to echo on even though Carl Jung improved the introvert image and removed the sexual element altogether in his theories of psychological types.

The primary difference between extroverts and introverts is this: extroverts are motivated and energized by external events and interactive creativity (highly-social) - introverts are motivated and energized by ideas and internal creativity (not-so-social). A very well-done, more exhaustive discussion of the differences is available here. Most of the world’s great leaders have been extroverts. Most Einsteinesque “fathers-of-invention” have been introverts.

Recent neuroscience research on brain activity (using PET scans) indicates introverts and extroverts actually use their brain architectures differently. Extrovert brain activity tends to be most active in the sensory processing regions of the brain. Introvert brain activity is more focused in the frontal lobes. This supports the external manifestations: extroverts seek a lot of stimulation and sensory input; introverts tend to take a little input and run with it internally – pondering things and getting their jollies from recontextualizing and reformulating. Hence, the contemplative hermit spirit.

Of course in reality, very few of us are absolute introverts or absolute extroverts. Most of us fall somewhere along the continuum. And even if our brains are working one way or the other, the external expression of our socialness (or lack thereof) may change at times over our lifetime as circumstances and needs evolve.

Even living as a hermit is as much about opportunity as it is about desire or inclination. For most people in today’s society, the hermit lifestyle tends to be a choice of mid-life and beyond:  after education and the primacy of income development; and (unless celibate) after mate-seeking and child-rearing – all fairly social activities no matter how you’re using your brain.

Introversion is no better or worse than extroversion – it’s just a different expression of the same humanity. The world is a better place because our differences work in concert. Even if it was a brilliant, pondering introvert who invented the wheel, if it weren’t for a few extroverts seeking the thrill ride of using it to get from there to here, humanity may have died young, contentedly spinning donuts in the cave.

The primary reason for our benign winters is, of course, that big, salty heat sink – the Pacific Ocean. The Alaskan Peninsula helps, too – it prevents the cold Arctic Ocean water from mingling much with the (relatively) warm Pacific water. Pacific marine climate is considered one of the best working climates in the world – benign winters and coolish summers mean there are very few days when you can’t be outside, working comfortably in the weather (although good rain gear sure helps).

One of the problems with this it-never-snows-much-and-always-goes-away-fast set-up is the natives don’t get very skilled at snow and ice driving; AND, snow removal dollars are very small line items on most government budgets. Traffic can be a nightmare when snow and ice arrive with zeal and stick around – which happens every once in awhile.

Forecasters are predicting our current Arctic blast (sub-freezing temps with no daytime thaw) will last through this entire week. (So far we only have about an inch of snow, though, so that might make it tolerable.) They say the last time this happened was 1990, although I think we came pretty close in 2006, which included record snowfall (30 inches here) and lengthy power outages (10 days for some people – 4 days for us).

In 1990, we were still living aboard s/v WaterBrother at Seattle’s Shilshole Bay Marina. I remember our on-the-boat Arctic blast.  Griz was in Phoenix on business for most of the week (the dog). I got to do arctic boat bunny by myself. Fortunately, my job was close  – a very short drive. I was also driving a dependable little 20-year-old Toyota beater at the time and it had vicious studded tires. There is great vehicular power and psychological freedom in driving a beater in ice and snow.

When you live aboard in a large marina, you get used to the sound of wind in the rigging as background noise.  But the 50 knot northerly that brought in that 1990 Arctic blast was an unusual, high-pitched howler – and it howled for days.  WaterBrother was moored with her bow facing north and we slept in the V-berth. Although WaterBrother had an insulated hull, insulation is pretty minimalist on a 37′ sailboat. Our Dickinson diesel heater - which generally kept us toasty through Seattle winters – did a fine job on most of the cabin, but that strong northerly wind cooling the bow made the V-berth frigid. Before Griz got home, I had rigged a cocoon for myself with extra sleeping bags and space blankets. I’d also revitalized my appreciation of polypropylene long underwear.

And Griz didn’t get off the hook completely. Although the cold wind had subsided by the time he got home, there was still ice and snow on the ground. He didn’t want me to pick him up at the airport (25 miles from the marina), so he took a cab from Sea-Tac. Considering the road conditions – that was probably the greatest danger to either of us all week.

And there was a gift in that chilly week aboard. Made me re-evaluate whether I was really interested in over-wintering aboard in Alaska. Glad we never did.