Ray Bradbury’s story of meeting Mr. Electrico is wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.
Ray Bradbury’s story of meeting Mr. Electrico is wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.
Disincentivize information warfare.
The thing about Rachel is, she doesn’t take long to decide on something—and then once the decision is done, it’s done. In the course of the last two hours, she’s decided we’re now tearing up all the remaining carpet downstairs and refinishing the wood floor underneath, plus painting the walls. 😂
It may seem, from the infant’s point of view, that he’s achieving something. But in fact, the mother is doing almost all the work. However, the reactions of that infant are part of the birth process. He doesn’t have to know what to do, though. But if you were a stillbirth, the birth would be a lot harder. So the aliveness of the baby being born is actually helpful to the birth process. And the same is true of our aliveness. And all of our anguished desperate and hopeful attempts are futile attempts to invent rituals and invent myths. They do not create the real rituals and the real myths that we will live in. But they are part of the creation of the rituals and the myths that we will live in.
The wheel of time has brought us back around to the earliest cathedrals, built into the landscape. We’ve returned to Lascaux Cave. The next stage of our spiritual development could just as easily take place—has probably already begun—in dark tunnels etched with strange graffiti, among the standing stones of unfinished overpasses. Initiates will follow hidden voices into cement chambers lit by candles; spray-painted sigils will hold mysteries for contemplation; the ceiling will disappear into the shadows above, stretching higher than the dome of any basilica, and it will be more than enough.
I saw a hawk pin down then carry off a pigeon in the garden today. A few days ago I saw a hawk (probably the same one?) on a power line overlooking our yard but all the birds were wisely hidden or gone. Today he must have gotten the drop on them.
Really interesting presentation this evening at the Lawrence County Museum about the history of newspaper printing—including physical copies of papers from the past few hundred years.
Content warning: paganism
I’ll be linking to this post (partly jokingly, partly seriously) when I write something about paganism.
It’s always tricky writing about religion online. Thankfully I’ve had no particularly bad encounters here–and I’m posting this only because I want to ensure that continues.
Why do I write about paganism?
A promise: I will never attempt to convert you.
An intention: I will remain curious about your beliefs and experiences. I’m a religion nerd and this interest is sincere and in no way patronizing.
Some background: I grew up in a sect of extremely fundamentalist Pentecostal Christianity. (Don’t worry: you’ve never heard of them.) From there I moved into the Lutheran church and then to the Episcopal church. After that I spent some time in what was basically a house church. Around 2014 I stopped calling myself a Christian. I was a Sam Harris-style atheist for a couple of years until I found it insufficient as a worldview. Since then, I’ve been a pagan.
Nevertheless, I’m not mad about Christianity. I’m also not hurt or attached to some secret sin or uninformed. Actually, I was pretty theologically sophisticated for a Christian layman. I probably know something about your particular Christian tradition. I say that because I want you to understand: it’s unlikely I’ll be converting back to Christianity.
At Thanksgiving one year, my wife’s uncle asked me which was my favorite football team. I said I wasn’t a sports fan. He then offered to explain the rules of football to help me out. I replied, “Oh, I know the rules pretty well. It’s just not for me.” Same for Christianity.
To sum up: I want to talk to you about religion in an attitude of friendly curiosity. If you post something about your religion that interests me, I may reply with a comment or a question meant to engage in that shared interest. I will not, however, make comments that are dismissive or sarcastic, even if I strongly disagree with something you’ve said. All I ask is the same in return.
If I ever make comments critical of monotheism or Christianity, it will be because I find it necessary to some point I’m making. I will always attempt, however, to make such criticisms in a fair way. Such criticisms will never be made from a place of mockery or superiority. I may not worship your god but–as much as it may annoy you to hear it put this way–I recognize your god as one god among the many and, therefore, worthy of respect. I know you can’t reciprocate that for theological reasons. We can, however, be friendly while remaining in disagreement.
The Old Farmers Almanac says that late summer drought conditions can lead to an early shutdown of the trees and a less colorful fall. It’s been dry here for weeks.
I’d like to find out more about this Divine Glory brand sandpaper I pulled off this old belt sander but all the search results are Christian allegories.
Dahlia with bees plus Pete, one of the neighborhood cats who sometimes stops by to look over our doings.


Showy sunflowers


For a few years now, our two cats have had nice high spots to get away from it all. From the chair they go up the stairs to the top of the bookcase. A piece of plywood holds up those white drapes (leftover from the previous owner) and forms a bridge to the other bookcase. Rory sleeps on the bridge.
“We have the wrong type of undead culture.” No ghosts; only zombies. Good post from Paul Watson.
John Michael Greer, A World Full of Gods: An Inquiry into Polytheism:
Much of polytheist theology can be seen as the application of ecological thinking to religion.
This snaps together several pieces in my mind. There has been a revival (relatively speaking) of polytheism in the years since the rise of ecological thinking. The dominant model of monotheism is of a king and the ruled, which has sometimes had what we might call poor historical consequences. A polytheism rooted in ecological thinking could be a shift from a hierarchical “great chain of being” to a relationship of reciprocity.
My friend and neighbor has a new book out today from Ancient Faith: Holy Fools: The Lives of Twenty Fools for Christ.
Sierra Ferrell’s harmony on this song takes me straight back to childhood in Trinity Pentecost Mission in Springville.
We just watched “Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre” (1996) and it was very good. I read the novel many years ago so I don’t recall details well enough to know how faithful it was to the book. But now I want to watch other adaptations. Recommendations?
I’ve thought about this video shared by Denny several times over the past couple of days. Our cultural expectations of what constitutes a good life can blind us to the possibilities found by others. I’m trying–haltingly and inconsistently, to be sure–to extricate myself from that worldview.
The most trustworthy people in the world are those who have been to the underworld. Those who’ve been torn open, rearranged, and made new by suffering. Myths are riddled with descents into the underworld wherein the hero confronts the darkness of the shadowy depths and reemerges with gifts and lessons. This is a kind of wisdom that is not on offer in the clouds or on earth. It can only be found below.
As of yesterday, I finished my two big summer projects: refinish my in-laws’ dining set and build a cabinet for a friend. Today I cleaned and organized the garage, which was getting quite out of hand while I was working on those projects.
My remaining to-do list:
Plans for next projects:
A few months ago, a very generous friend decided to give me some of his grandfather’s tools: a bench grinder, a small drill press, and a benchtop disc sander.
All he asked in return was an open-front, mobile cabinet that he could use in his garage and for cookouts. He already had a countertop. So I built it of birch plywood and added four lockable wheels and adjustable shelves.
I also surprised him with a memorial to his grandfather burned inside the cabinet.
I experimented with burning through the paint on some scrap and it looked okay but it also had a decent chance of going wrong. I decided to leave it unpainted and then finished the spot with some spray polyurethane for protection.
Here it is in its new home
Hanging cayennes are so pretty. And that’s red switchgrass to the left.
I like the “On this Day” feature here at micro.blog. Today it brought up a thought experiment about consciousness from last year. Still seems like an interesting possibility to me, combining something like panpsychism with something like reincarnation.
People ought to be warned about middle age. My daughter is 18 and needs help dealing with increasingly adult situations. My mom is 78 and is able to handle very little by herself anymore. Increasing pressure and responsibilities at work. I know it happens to everyone. Nevertheless, it’s a lot!