Tag Archives: Writing

Spirituality

Mockingbird – Finding Your Sacred Song

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Mockingbird – Finding Your Sacred Song by H. Stearley at Earthwalking

It’s been two weeks now, and I can’t escape them. They follow me at home. At the park. Out in the Midwest Jungle. They have been everywhere. Singing. Perching in my fruit trees. Sometimes showing off the prey they have captured, as if to say thank you for tilling the garden, planting the trees, mowing the lawn – anything that stirs up the insects and invertebrates they so crave.

They have certainly seized my attention.

A while back, I wrote about the message of the Bluejay. That was a message about authenticity. I had literally been swarmed by somewhere between twenty-five and thirty Bluejays on one of my hikes. It makes it hard to ignore the messengers when they come in force.

We are constantly surrounded with affirmations, omens, messages from our guides and guardians, if we only pay attention. If we don’t pay attention, they sometimes smack you in the face with a 2 by 4 to get you to wake up your consciousness.

And that has been the case now with the Mockingbird.

With its overwhelming presence, it’s time to consult the dog-eared references to animal symbolism. And it turns out that Mockingbirds are not only known for the vast repertoire of songs mimicked from other birds, but they like to share those songs and have no fear of people.

The Mockingbird is a master of languages. I remember once, while hiking along some railroad tracks, I heard the clanging of a railroad crossing. Looking around, there was no train, and no nearby road-crossing. I finally spotted a Mockingbird resting atop of a telephone poll mimicking that sound so perfectly. At first, I was sure I must be mistaken. But then again, I’ve heard them mimicking frogs as well.

The Mockingbird teaches us the power of song and of our voice. It helps us seek out and find our individual sacred song – our soul purpose – and sing it out loud and clear. This message arrives at a time where I’ve been attending community circles and have been encouraged to quite literally sing out sacred songs. It’s also a time when I’ve returned to writing after a long hiatus.

Synchronicity.

Birds have long been associated with transcendence. With divine manifestation, resurrection, and with the ascent to heaven. Think of the Thunderbird and the power of protection and spiritual strength in Native American culture; the Pheonix’s resurrection in Greek and Egyptian cultures and who also is the companion of Quetzalcoatl; the Garuda in Indian culture, symbolizing divine power and transcendence – a vehicle of Vishnu; and Kuntur, the Condor in Incan culture believed to be the messenger between the Hanaqpacha (the Upper World) and Kaypacha (the Earthly World).

While some might find this type of spiritual wisdom to be mythic, I choose to live in the T’eqse Muyu, the Living Universe, where Spirit lives in everything, where all life is considered sacred, and where knowledge, wisdom, and guidance can be found in everything that surrounds us.

***

In Metta

Feature Image: I found this image on the Net in the public domain at Travis Audubon.

“Mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don’t eat up people’s gardens, don’t nest in corncribs, they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.”

-Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird (1960)

Postscript: It’s been a week since I made this post, and the Mockingbirds are still hanging with me. I went out at 2 am a few days ago to try and catch a glimpse of the Aurora – no Aurora, just a faint red hue in the night sky, but there, in the middle of the night, was the Mockingbird singing its heart out. I thanked him for the song.

And today’s sacred song . . .

Poetry

Being . . .

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Being by H. Stearley at Earthwalking

The Master beseeched us to

Meditate on Being

But he spoke in the wrong Language

***

In Metta

Feature Image: A water lily in a lake at a nearby park.

Daily Musings

The Burn

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The Burn by H. Stearley at Earthwalking

Even a fire burning you will feel good for a few seconds.

***

In Metta

Feature Photo: A bonfire of the Heart

Storytelling

Heartbeats

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Heartbeats by H. Stearley at Earthwalking

Do you hear them?  Do you feel them?

We only have so many, even being in the best of health.

So how do you want to share them?

Your Heartbeats.

That drum of life force.

Back in 1965, Isaac Asimov published a book of essays titled, “Of Time and Space and Other Things,” a Chapter of which was “The Slowly Moving Finger.” In that essay, he talked about life span of many creatures in relation to metabolic rate.  One might say he was postulating an equivalency table for all species, but he wasn’t.  He was noting differences.  And big differences with mammals, like us, that don’t necessarily have an explanation.

So, if you pulled any commonality out of his essay, it was that a number of mammals ranged in life span but could, at best, live for about a billion heartbeats.  He noted that Chimpanzees and Gorillas lived for about 1.5 billion heartbeats, but that we humans lived much longer.  Life expectancy for an American male in 1965 was about 66 years or 2.5 billion heartbeats.*

Asimov also noted that our most elderly, reaching a maximum of 115 years would have worked their heart muscles to the tune of about 4.35 billion beats!  He had no explanation for why we humans could have so many more heartbeats as comparable to other species of similar weight.

Neither do I, but I wonder about how much our spirit interplays.

Or is it merely being an Apex Predator?  With a talent for making tools?

We may live longer, but many days it seems to me that we simply aren’t that far out of the cave.

Especially at this juncture in time.

Or for some, their hearts may be beating, but they are not truly living.  I’m sure you can think of some examples here.  Some many even seem to be soulless.  Phantoms.

So, if we have a limited number of heartbeats, and we don’t know just how many that is or when the last one may pulse, then how do you want to share them?  How would you want your last heartbeat to be spent?

Well for starters, I can tell how I don’t want to spend mine.  I don’t want to spend them engaging in frivolous political discussions on social media.  The last time I did this was at the bequest of a friend who wanted me to interject some rational thought into a conversation.

Me, the voice of reason – LOL!

In reality, my comment was a well-articulated and reasoned position supported by overwhelming scientific evidence.  And the response, you guessed it, was name calling, irrational hatred, and physical threats of violence.

Heartbeats are a most valuable currency, so no, I do not wish to waste a single heartbeat on social media “discussions” such as these.  And I won’t in the future.

Here are a few things I do like to spend heartbeats on:

Noticing the many affirmations I receive daily from Great Mystery;

The Coyote’s howl;

The Hawk’s kee-eeeee-arr;

The Owl’s Song is definitely worth Heartbeats;

The Vermilion Flycatcher’s aerobatics;

Looking at pictures of the Newborn Baby Deer my Daughter had captured;

For that matter, my Daughter herself, tons of heartbeats;

Finding a “home” – the great search is on;

Watching the Great Blue Heron, wading and fishing; wherever it and I may be;

Taking heed of the Belted Kingfisher’s warning – it’s piercing scream-rattle;

And,

For that matter, all time spent in Nature is worthy of my heartbeats.  I’ve shared many with the wilderness this summer.  And it shares its heartbeats with me.

I was recently hiking in the southwest when I came upon a solo Coatimundi.  A male.  Once an adult, a male spends his life on his own except he rejoins the troop of mothers and young for breeding.

I did some metaphysical research on this desert visitor and discovered that the symbolism, or medicine, of the Coatimundi is to assist, serve, and inspire others, but without making dependents or victims. The message included not to ever serve or assist “takers” – they just take and never give back.   A wise calling.

Now I’m happy to share heartbeats with the Coatimundi in the desert.  Any day.

And I’m happy to spread the Coatimundi’s medicine.  To assist others.

Of course, I will always share heartbeats with other pure human spirits.  That is the most joyful time where all of us can expand our awareness and intimacy.

And that’s just a list of a few of many worthwhile heartbeat sharing experiences.  I keep a gratitude list daily of those heartbeats.

How do you like to share your heartbeats?  And can you look back and say your heartbeats were well spent?

***

In Metta

Photos:  The Coatimundi came to me.  Walking down the path.  No fear did it show.  Just his illuminating presence.  I think he recognized our common solo nature that day.  He sought my company briefly and returned to his own path.  I had mine to tend to as well, and it would take a sort of magical turn at the end of those miles.  A story for another day.

*If you like the math:

A normal heart rate is considered to be between 60 and 100 beats per minute.  An average often cited is 72 bpm, which = 4,320 beats per hour,

= 103,680 beats per day,

= 37,843,200 beats per year.

Average American Life Expectancy as of 2017 = 78.6 years = 2,974,475,520 heartbeats.

Men – life expectancy at birth = 75.97 = 2,874,947,904 heartbeats.

Women – life expectancy at birth = 80.96 = 3,063,785,472 heartbeats.

Asimov used 37,826,087 beats per year or 4.5 billion for a max age of 115 – almost the same as my calc.  In 1965, Asimov said 2.5 billion Heartbeats translates to about 66 years = 37,878,787 beats per year.  Again, pretty close to my calculations.  Life expectancy was 66.8 years for men and 73.8 years for women (average 70.21) back in 1965.

Life expectancy was declining for the last several years in the US, but this past year, it increased by 0.08% or .06 of a year.  The prior drop was attributed to opioid overdoses and suicides among 20 and 30 year-olds.

And, if you want more reading, here are a few references:

The Slowly Moving Finger

Your Resting Heart Rate: What is Normal and Healthy?

Actuarial Life Table (from Social Security)

U.S. Life Expectancy Drops for Third Year in a Row, Reflecting Rising Drug Overdoses, Suicides 

U.S. Life Expectancy Ticks Up as Drug Fatalities and Cancer Deaths Drop

Time to share some heartbeats somewhere else . . .

Storytelling

Flying Without Fear

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Flying Without Fear by H. Stearley at Earthwalking

I was perched on a cliff several hundred feet up from where the Columbia River collides with the Pacific Ocean when this feather came floating up on the Air currents.

It hovered for a very a long time.

Undulating with the fluctuating columns of invisible gases.  As if the Earth was breathing its flight.  In and out.  Up and down.  

Hypnotic. 

The Cormorants and Gulls were gathering on a large rock outcropping below.  Completing a never-ending circle of flight.  From the hunt, to the nest.  To feed their young.  A flurry of dark and white. 

Their very revolutions of life. 

The feather reminded me of just how perfectly Birds are constructed to fly – even their feathers can fly independently.  Rising on the thermals. 

I lunged and grasped and missed. 

The feather dancing about my hand.  And then I watched it sail away above the open waters.  How long it would fly above those turbid Ocean waves I would never know.

One can find a meditation in every aspect of Nature. 

Circadian Rhythms. Cadent Perfection.

As I hike on, my mind wanders to all of the analogies.  Our lives are little different from these living, breathing flying machines.  These particles in flight. 

Our patterned existence. 

We are part and parcel of this Earth.  Our Mother.  We are so bound that to cut Her is to cut ourselves. Yet we have been given such Freedoms. 

The Power to Dream.  To Create.  To Manifest.  To Love.  And to Experience the “Wemi Tali” – the “All Where.” 

The totality of all Creation.

We are not aeolian – sediments blown about by the wind.  We are not constrained within the boundaries of space and time.  It is only fear that can hold us back from these many gifts bestowed upon us.  

We can all Fly.

I’m on my way . . . Flying Without Fear

***

In Metta

Photos: The feather is that very one I watched fly across the Ocean.

The later pic, above, is me from a number of years ago. When I was young and felt even less constrained. I played a game of climbing rock spires and then jumping down them. In rhythm, I raced across these pinnacles of limestone. And Flew.

Daily Musings

A Hunter of Solace

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A Hunter of Solace by H. Stearley at Earthwalking

“He recalled the noisy music at dinner and said to himself, ‘Noise has one advantage.  It drowns out words.’ And suddenly he realized that all his life he had done nothing but talk, write, lecture, concoct sentences, search for formulations and amend them, so in the end no words were precise, their meanings were obliterated, their content lost, they turned into trash, chaff, dust, sand; prowling through his brain, tearing at his head, they were his insomnia, his illness.  And what he yearned for at that moment, vaguely but with all his might, was unbounded music, absolute sound, a pleasant and all encompassing, over-powering, window-rattling din to engulf, once and for all, the pain, the futility, the vanity of words.  Music was the negation of sentences, music was the anti-word!”

I pulled this passage from The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera, and as a writer, and I know you are writers too, what do you think?  Would you like for words to disappear, regard them as an illness?  Do you think the molding of our language results in nullifying its meaning?  Do words “obliterate” what they describe?  Fall so short of description as to render them meaningless?

What about music?  It is a language of its own.  Some cultures even believe that it was through sound that we, and this world, were created.  But aren’t words just expressions of sound?

Personally, I am a hunter.  A stalker of words.  A shikari of script.  I set snares, traps, and deadfalls to corral them.  To bend them to my will.  I creep low in the savannas, climb high in the trees, hike the distant mountain passes, and dive deep in the ocean to find them.  I pull them from my dreams.  Let them flow through me from other sources of consciousness.

I paint with them. 

To describe and express my feelings. To spark images in the minds of others.  To rage battle in debate, in court.  To give and take solace from the agony and torment of the viciousness that often surrounds us. 

Words are weapons that can wound the heart or heal the soul.  Words become.  Words manifest.  Words create everything.

Don’t they?

Would your interpretation of this passage change if I added the context.  It was a lover’s lament:  

“He yearned for one long embrace with Sabina, yearned never to say another sentence, another word, to let his orgasm fuse with the orgiastic thunder of music. And lulled by that blissful imaginary uproar, he fell asleep.”

While one can envision, empathize, even feel the emotion, without words, how would we describe, how would we commiserate, how would we relate?  Even in the silence of our minds we recite them to describe everything in the world around us.

Music is a beautiful expression, but I could not live without words.  

***

Feature Photo: A successful hunt by a Western Screech Owl. In this instance, soon-to-be Popa Owl was enticing his mate to join him in this owl box. I watched the pair raise their family there. I enjoy a successful hunt myself when I peruse the keyboards, the dictionary, and the thesaurus. And I find solace in the crafting of expression through this limited language of ours. Words are like music. There are a finite number of notes, but a million ways to compose a masterpiece.

Storytelling, Travel

Motion – The Dance of Perpetual Freedom?

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Motion – The Dance of Perpetual Freedom?

by H. Stearley at Earthwalking

This post is going to be a bit wordy.  Not wordy in the sense of its length, but wordy in the sense of using a lot of words to describe one thing in particular.  Or at least try to.

You see, this “thing” I’m trying to describe is a feeling. 

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how to describe this particular feeling, and it’s not what people might think of as being a “typical” feeling.  It is not specifically about love or hate, pain or pleasure, hot or cold, fear or desire, happiness or sadness, anger or calm, attraction or repulsion, disappointment or satisfaction, adoration or contempt, awe or indifference, disgust or admiration, revulsion or fondness, boredom or excitement, gratitude or unthankfulness, anticipation or dread, nor is it about jealousy or compersion.*

And then there is the feeling of loneliness.

Continue reading Motion – The Dance of Perpetual Freedom? →
Environment

Biomass

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Biomass by H. Stearley at Earthwalking

It seemed appropriate after making my post “Soulmass,” that I should follow it up with this one on Biomass.

***

I think I figured it out.  Figured out why some people do not understand the concept of climate change.  But before I can get there, I have to diverge a bit. 

Let’s take a little romp down a pathway that breaks us out of our little bubbles.  That puts numbers on the impact we humans have had on the planet – collectively.  The high-altitude view . . .

For it’s truly difficult for people to see much beyond their physical reach.  The limits of their senses.  And that’s totally understandable. 

Continue reading Biomass →
Daily Musings

Eternal Return

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Eternal Return by H. Stearley at Earthwalking

I came across a thought experiment advanced by Nietzsche, and you can tell by the title of this piece it is the concept of “eternal return.”  The concept sounds simple enough.  It’s the idea that all things and events in the Universe are cyclical in nature.  This includes our individual lives, and Nietzsche proposes this would mean that we would repeat our lives exactly the same as they had been, over and over, into infinity. 

“This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and sigh and everything unutterably small or great in your life will have to return to you, all in the same succession and sequence . . .”

How would you react to this if true?  Would you despair or would you rejoice?

So, what to do with the thought experiment?  Applying this tool, we could presume that you would choose to pursue the parts of your life that you found most valuable or meaningful.  That your value system would determine how you live each lifetime.  But that conclusion swallows the rule for if we are destined to repeat all of our life events exactly as before, how would we be able to exercise a choice that would change the life pathway that is supposed to be repeating exactly the same way throughout all of eternity.  We would be simply trapped as observers watching our life’s most joyous and most cataclysmic events unfold again and again.

This concept also fails to take into account that with each successive life, you would, presumably, live in an entirely different world with entirely new technological advances.  How could your choices not change as you adapt to the different environments? Or is he saying humankind, and the Universe itself, would remain in a stagnant loop, much like isolated pools of water that become putrid over time?

It’s said that the Stoics have a similar philosophy believing that the Universe is periodically destroyed in a conflagration and is then reborn for a new cycle.  Although there are divergences between different Stoic philosophers as to what the rebirth would mean.  Would everything repeat exactly the same or merely be indistinguishable from the prior cycle?

In the book, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera spins a different take on this concept and reaches the conclusion that if every event was repeated throughout eternity, especially brutal events such as war, that the world view would sour on how to interpret those events. Thus, the American Revolution would be regarded with disgust over the destruction of three quarters of a million lives. The fact that these events occur only once allows them to be “turned into mere words, theories, and discussions, [that] have become lighter than feathers, frightening no one.”  He then draws on the opposite thought experiment and states there is a “profound moral perversity of a world that rests essentially on the nonexistence of return, for in this world everything is pardoned in advance and therefore everything cynically permitted.”

Is that true?  Does critical judgment abate for transient events? Does the passage of time dilute all experience?  Will revisionist history forgive the Holocaust? Make it ephemeral, lighter than air? A punctuation mark at the end of a paragraph of a book never to be read more than once.

Kundera then further develops his thoughts on the lightness of being noting that if our life events keep repeating that “the weight of unbearable responsibility lies heavy on every move we make,” but that this burden also manifests as “life’s most intense fulfillment.” And the absence of such a burden allows one to leave “his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant.”

So what would be your choice, the weight or lightness?

Choosing the intensity of experience enriches the joy but also magnifies the grievousness of the pain. Conversely, lightness can render all experience, pleasure and pain, meaningless, but it would be a carefree life.

***

In Metta

Feature Photo: Grandmother Moon slowing setting in the West. She goes through a continual cycle of birth, death, and rebirth every 29.5 days. An eternal repetition of growing into full light and descending into darkness.

Spirituality

Soul Mass

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Soulmass by H. Stearley at Earthwalking

Lately I’ve read some interesting blogs pointing out just how insignificant we, as humans, are.  And I’ve read others about just how meaningful life is.  I guess opposites attract 😊

Frankly, I’m torn, because these thought experiments bring me back to another interrelated concept and that is “purpose.” 

Just what purpose are we supposed to fulfill?  Or, stated another way, why are we here?

Continue reading Soul Mass →
Spirituality, Storytelling

The Mythical Arrowhead

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This piece was published under the title of “Found Your Arrowhead? Seek This Counsel In The Natural World,” in The Urban Howl. 

The Mythical Arrowhead by H. Stearley at Earthwalking

Knowing, or believing, something exists doesn’t mean that you will find It, or that you should search for It.

As with many people I know, the past few years have been a time of great change, of searching, a call to become whole again. We have searched and found before, but we’ve lost pieces of our soul going through the grinder of daily existence in a world that values the material over the spiritual, that places labels over substance, illusion over reality.

My current search began with the “dissolving” of a marriage and the loss of a career by forces seemingly outside the realm of personal control. Or did I somehow manifest this destruction to force myself to rediscover my true nature? The answer to that question is now irrelevant to the path I walk.

So now what, where do I go from here?

Where do all of us go from a starting point of what we perceive is darkness and despair – a contraction of space and time? Do you start believing the crowd of voices in your head entrenched there from years of social domestication, the “mitote” as the Toltecs call it, telling you that you are not good enough, not beautiful enough, not smart enough, don’t make enough – the ever-gnawing feelings of inadequacy – the ever-present need to acquire more?

More what?

Will all of the “shoulds” injected into your mind from the moment of your first breath predominate every step you take – fill every rational, conscious thought? Will the search for a definition and identity of your ego be satiated by finding a new label?

Will another hollow paycheck somehow provide meaning to the fabricated definition of who you are? Will the ever-turning wheels in your mind condemn you to the prison of living in the past and in future projections, instead of experiencing the here and now?

Perhaps it’s time to awaken to the fact that the true journey is inward. Answers, awareness, enlightenment, and true happiness do not come from external sources.

My search began externally with looking for a new job, a new living location, perhaps a new partner. After a year of re-learning to live alone, of constant rejection of job applications, and upon finding defects with every possible living location I explored, I woke from my slumbers. I awakened to realize that I was enjoying, in the present moment, the things that had come to fill my time.

The daily ventures into nature, the meditation of motion and stillness, the re-connection with “reality.” The “real world” that surrounds us is filled with infinite riches and beauty, which most overlook. Like the caterpillar, I was transforming. I was repossessing what I had lost.

Upon achieving some balance, real magick begins to happen. New connections materialize. Some of these connections are there to show you that you’re on the right path, others to show you what to avoid. Your intuition is developed. Just like the mole who has sacrificed vision in return for all its other senses becoming heightened, you sacrifice illusion, a lifestyle, possessions, sometimes even rationality, in exchange to feel and experience truth, to know in your heart what nourishes your soul.

False messages still come and can gain intensity; beckoning you to return to the land of illusion.

The bait to step back into that world of darkness and confusion can take many forms. In my case, I am presented with a job opportunity, which has now acquired a sense of oddness since the beginning of this walk when I spent hours seeking some job that was seemingly always beyond grasp. And, as I mechanically prepare for an interview, I ask, why now?

To contemplate this change in direction, a possible new path that could really be a return to an old one that no longer serves, I seek out counsel with the natural world.

It has never misled me or given me false promises. I hike. I find myself standing in a creek bed, surrounded by the sound and essence of moving water and by hundreds of thousands of pieces of limestone and chert. Chert is a very hard silicate-based, sedimentary stone that when struck forcefully enough and at the right angle produces conchoidal fractures with extremely sharp edges.

Most people know the variety of chert called flint that can give rise to fire – a powerful nature indeed – that of transformation, illumination, or destruction. Because of its fracturing qualities, chert was also the perfect stone for the Natives to craft arrow and spearheads and other cutting tools – sharp as a razor and stronger than steel.

I know as I stand here, contemplating and seeking guidance, that there is an Arrowhead among these stones.

It is a given that rivers, streams and creeks are the best places to find them, where the earth has been eroded by the waters – the feminine universal womb, the source of all potentialities. Many treasures are revealed by the waters’ power to purify. And a natural curiosity, plus a desire to acquire such a power object, sparks the urge to hunt for it, to search it out, to discover its mystery.

Being more intuitive now, however, I ask, what is the real message I’m receiving? And why did this imagery suddenly pop into my mind from nowhere? Time to consult the symbolism and ancient wisdom of the Earth.

The Arrowhead is said to represent the hunter and adventurer in each of us, as well as alertness, for it takes a good eye and strong arm to use a bow and arrow. It is also believed to indicate protection and courage and to signify direction, force, movement, and power.

Arrows pointed in opposite directions meant war, while a broken arrow meant peace, and crossed arrows meant friendship. Arrows are piecing, representing the masculine. The flight of arrows can symbolize the accent to the celestial.

And an arrow, once let loose from the bow, results in consequences that cannot be undone, whether the arrow hits or misses its intended target.

As I stood there in that creek bed reflecting, I couldn’t help but notice the obvious. I was not moving in any direction. I was static. To stare and search for this Mythical Arrowhead amongst a million other stones, is not advancement down any path.

The Arrowhead is not mythical in the sense of being a falsehood, it does exist. And, it is not some traditional story involving supernatural beings that somehow speaks to the psychology, or customs, or ideals of a society either. Rather, it serves as an allegory – not a cold definition but full of warmth in its meaning.

I could spend many hours being static in a search that produces no results, that hits no target, that creates little more than frustration. This speaks a little to the past years’ events. Or one might find the Arrowhead, secure it to the shaft and let it fly, its effects being unchangeable.

It may miss the intended mark and not fall on the path of enlightenment and happiness. But even if it hits the target aimed for, if that target is based on illusion and false “shoulds” that bring no spiritual advancement, then you’ve hit no target at all. You have to have both, a proper path or target, and you must lodge that arrow squarely in that target with a clean shot. So, if you’ve found the target, then, perhaps, it is truly worth the search to find the arrow to strike it.

But, the real message I believe I’m receiving is not to seek out something mythical with a false believe of attaining Bodhi in a place external to your soul. And once one realizes that, and takes the inward journey instead, then perhaps there is no reason to seek out the Arrowhead and all its power at all, perhaps we’ve already found it.

***

In Metta

Photos: Taken on a hike in the Midwestern wilderness.

Spirituality, Storytelling

“People Come Here to Die”

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“People Come Here to Die” by H. Stearley at Earthwalking

Last year, a friend of mine decided to check out of this lifetime. I’m not mad at him, like a few others were. I have to respect that he decided he did not wish to continue with certain physical limitations.

But I do miss him, greatly.

In past couple of years, a couple of acquaintances chose physician-assisted suicide because they could no longer find safe living conditions. They were plagued by the same medical condition I have, but I have no such plans to do the same.

The remembrance of these Souls today brought me back to a previous post of mine. And it wasn’t long after I posted it that I committed a sort of suicide. Temporarily. I left WP because of the constant internet theft of articles and pictures and WP’s unwillingness to address those issues. It was the second time I left here, and there is bound to be a third.

I’m back now, but with a limited purpose. That will become clear, hopefully, later this year. In the meantime, here is my previous post.

Continue reading “People Come Here to Die” →
Politics

“And the Survey Says . . .”

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It’s been a while since I’ve received any surveys from anyone about anything. But in the current political climate, I find them piling up in my emails. All political. And a few from a Rep who hasn’t seemed interested in the past about what my thoughts or opinions might be.

Of course, now the surveys are designed to try to justify the current administration’s policies. Only it’s hard to really call these survey questions at all. The way they are written is designed to deliver the outcome they are seeking. They are not even cleaver about it. To give an example we have this questionable question, “Do you approve of Elon Musk and DOGE’s efforts to stop government corruption and waste?” Let’s take it apart.

Continue reading “And the Survey Says . . .” →