I saw on a technology show that there are far fewer men who blog than women. The most prolific writers are females between the ages of fourteen and thirty. Only 28 percent of all bloggers are male. Only 8 percent are above the age of forty. Those figures threw me for a loop. In an age when so many people talk about the communication revolution and the "information age", I would have thought the numbers would be more or less even across the board.
I shouldn't be too surprised though. Generally speaking, guys don't have a great track record for writing things down. It is usually the extraordinary or creative men who leave a written account of themselves of any kind. Men write biographies. They keep journals of daily facts and events. (Never, ever call it a diary to a guys face.) The average working man doesn't deal with the written word more than to read the newspaper. The educated ones even leave the sports page.
I'm a firm believer in the idea that people should express what they think more often. Which isn't to say that they should tear into a subject and write down a whole lot of prejudiced or opinionated nonsense. When thoughts get confined to one person, opportunities are lost. Where would we be if men like Plato and Charles Dickens had kept things to themselves? Where would we be if Leonardo DaVinci hadn't been quite so secretive with his journals?
I have browsed through the blogs before, and found some very interesting information. I saw one devoted entirely to the art of recycling. Another was all about pasta dishes. I still read the blog of Joe Ganci every day. His travel experience is a breath of fresh air to me. There is so much to be had out there, and to think that so few of us take advantage of what we have done or have to say, and leave it all undocumented. It makes you wonder why we bother having an Internet connected to so many homes.
It is a shame.
There is an old saying that history is written by the winners. I think that should now be that history is written by those who can be bothered.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
The DaVince Code and questioning faith
I finally got on the bandwagon and read The DaVinci Code, by Dan Brown. What you have on the surface is a very exciting adventure and mystery tale. Brown packs a lot of events into one twenty-four hour span, enough to keep a reader on the edge of his seat for several hours. It was very hard to put the book down, once begun.
The problem comes when people take a fictional story set in a real place, and begin to think of it as more. Opus Dei, a very real organization, the Catholic Church, and various other groups were quick to take offence. They called the book an outrageous case of slander. Opus Dei even has a written statement on their website, rebutting claims they allege Mr. Brown made in the book.
In point of fact, the author has accused no one of wrong doing. His story used characters set within a fictional version of church, sect and police force to carry through the plot. They chose to take it all out of the context of a story.
Faith, particularly of the religious kind, is dangerous in that fashion. The instant adherents to an ideology see anything that conflicts with that belief, they are up in arms. Of course, where pitchforks and torches were the tools in the past, today it is the Internet and the legal system. There is a campaign of information and debunking, and if at all possible, law suits, to go with anything that questions the status quo. No where is this so common as in the realm of religion and pseudo science.
I bring up pseudo science for a reason. True scientific advancement relies on the testing of theory. That's why it is still the theory of evolution, because there hasn't been enough testing time. (Evolution is a slow process.) We can safely accept the idea as fact, from the evidence we have so far, be we do not call it a law. The same holds true for the theory of relativity. In the world of scientific discovery, nothing is law until it can be proven repeatedly. Pseudo science makes claims and then refuses to have those claims tested. It is expected that people will believe and invest.
Religious faith requires blind acceptance of ideas. This isn't a bad thing, when those ideas are about morals, the meaning of our lives and abstracts. It is when religion demands that we believe something about history, or the physical universe around us that we get into trouble. History is written from a personal point of view, and is thereby flawed, inaccurate. We can trace lineage back to the times of Christ and Mohammad, but we cannot say anything definitive about them beyond the physical evidence of records.
In his books, Dan Brown had used historical groups and individuals as the basis for a good fictional tale. The minute you try to put that into the real world, you open up a can of worms that even now hasn't been closed.
I am not personally a religious man. I do not attend any regular worship, though I do some work for a parish that my mother-in-law attends services with each week. I am, however, a man of faith. I believe in a force that many refer to as God, that created everything that we know. I believe that the truth of our existence is out there, waiting for us. When we are wise enough, we will discover the answers to all of our questions. The universe is merely waiting for us to grow enough to understand.
Science and religion have been enemies, when they struggle with the same questions. That they choose to work at odds with each other is evidence of our immaturity as a race. Faith and Reason are the base pair of intellectual life. Neither works without the other. A person can only go so far on one foot, and he or she can only go so far on faith or deductive reasoning alone.
Edison once compared Faith and Science to a pair of dynamos that he was working with. Unless perfectly balanced, the system didn't work. When in harmony, the power flowed smoothly. Life is all about balance. Male and female. Work and rest. Faith and reason.
Do not ignore the ideas that come from a fictional tale, but do not accept them blindly either.
The problem comes when people take a fictional story set in a real place, and begin to think of it as more. Opus Dei, a very real organization, the Catholic Church, and various other groups were quick to take offence. They called the book an outrageous case of slander. Opus Dei even has a written statement on their website, rebutting claims they allege Mr. Brown made in the book.
In point of fact, the author has accused no one of wrong doing. His story used characters set within a fictional version of church, sect and police force to carry through the plot. They chose to take it all out of the context of a story.
Faith, particularly of the religious kind, is dangerous in that fashion. The instant adherents to an ideology see anything that conflicts with that belief, they are up in arms. Of course, where pitchforks and torches were the tools in the past, today it is the Internet and the legal system. There is a campaign of information and debunking, and if at all possible, law suits, to go with anything that questions the status quo. No where is this so common as in the realm of religion and pseudo science.
I bring up pseudo science for a reason. True scientific advancement relies on the testing of theory. That's why it is still the theory of evolution, because there hasn't been enough testing time. (Evolution is a slow process.) We can safely accept the idea as fact, from the evidence we have so far, be we do not call it a law. The same holds true for the theory of relativity. In the world of scientific discovery, nothing is law until it can be proven repeatedly. Pseudo science makes claims and then refuses to have those claims tested. It is expected that people will believe and invest.
Religious faith requires blind acceptance of ideas. This isn't a bad thing, when those ideas are about morals, the meaning of our lives and abstracts. It is when religion demands that we believe something about history, or the physical universe around us that we get into trouble. History is written from a personal point of view, and is thereby flawed, inaccurate. We can trace lineage back to the times of Christ and Mohammad, but we cannot say anything definitive about them beyond the physical evidence of records.
In his books, Dan Brown had used historical groups and individuals as the basis for a good fictional tale. The minute you try to put that into the real world, you open up a can of worms that even now hasn't been closed.
I am not personally a religious man. I do not attend any regular worship, though I do some work for a parish that my mother-in-law attends services with each week. I am, however, a man of faith. I believe in a force that many refer to as God, that created everything that we know. I believe that the truth of our existence is out there, waiting for us. When we are wise enough, we will discover the answers to all of our questions. The universe is merely waiting for us to grow enough to understand.
Science and religion have been enemies, when they struggle with the same questions. That they choose to work at odds with each other is evidence of our immaturity as a race. Faith and Reason are the base pair of intellectual life. Neither works without the other. A person can only go so far on one foot, and he or she can only go so far on faith or deductive reasoning alone.
Edison once compared Faith and Science to a pair of dynamos that he was working with. Unless perfectly balanced, the system didn't work. When in harmony, the power flowed smoothly. Life is all about balance. Male and female. Work and rest. Faith and reason.
Do not ignore the ideas that come from a fictional tale, but do not accept them blindly either.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
St. Patrick's Day
Tomorrow is St. Patrick's day, the first holiday of spring. It seems to fall a little flat this year, with so much snow on the ground after that last major storm. Still, the days are getting longer and it has been warmer. With Easter coming early this year, a sign of seasonal change is long overdue.
St. Patrick's day doesn't really have the meaning that it should, I think. These days, if you ask the average person why we celebrate the 17th of March, they don't have a clue. To kids, it's just about good luck and wearing green. To most adults, the day is an excuse to drink a lot of beer and say, "Kiss me, I'm Irish!" (Which will get you slapped on certain university campuses, I feel obligated to point out.) The day has lost its original purpose.
St. Patrick was a catholic priest, who is attributed with bringing Christianity to the country of Ireland. Legend has it that he drove out all of the snakes, as a display of the power of God. That part, of course, is not verifiable, but makes for good press. (I understand that to this day, there are no snakes native to the emerald isles.) As most people do know, Patrick is the patron saint of Ireland, and a large percentage of male children are given his name.
I just thought I would sober up the party just a little bit by reminding everyone that they are drinking to the memory of a clergyman.
You may now return to your green beer.
St. Patrick's day doesn't really have the meaning that it should, I think. These days, if you ask the average person why we celebrate the 17th of March, they don't have a clue. To kids, it's just about good luck and wearing green. To most adults, the day is an excuse to drink a lot of beer and say, "Kiss me, I'm Irish!" (Which will get you slapped on certain university campuses, I feel obligated to point out.) The day has lost its original purpose.
St. Patrick was a catholic priest, who is attributed with bringing Christianity to the country of Ireland. Legend has it that he drove out all of the snakes, as a display of the power of God. That part, of course, is not verifiable, but makes for good press. (I understand that to this day, there are no snakes native to the emerald isles.) As most people do know, Patrick is the patron saint of Ireland, and a large percentage of male children are given his name.
I just thought I would sober up the party just a little bit by reminding everyone that they are drinking to the memory of a clergyman.
You may now return to your green beer.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
A working relationship
I've been thinking today about the nature of relationships that I see around me, both real and ones portrayed in fiction. The best ones all seem to have the "little things" in common. Both parties always consider the needs of others first, and not just their partners, but others in general. Small gestures of affection and respect mean a lot. Just holding a door open or helping a person on with a coat is important.
When I speak of gestures of affection though, I mean little things. A simple reaching over to touch a shoulder when needing support. There is nothing more intimate than straightening your husbands tie, or brushing hair out of your wife's eyes. Those are things that we wouldn't dream of letting anyone else do. Kids today think that showing affection is holding each other so close that you can't see light between them. Schools have to have rules about PDA (public displays of affection) because things are getting so out of hand. I know, I was guilty of it at one time myself.
There are lot of knowing smiles and inside jokes in a good relationship. What looks like silliness from the outside is a shared moment on the inside. When a couple are truly meant for each other, I can tell, because part of the time, I have now clue what the pair are talking about. It's all incomplete phrases. "Remember when John..." or "Just like my sister did." Really meaningful conversation is silent where two people are in accord. More can be said in a single glance.
True love is helping each other to a seat. It is instinctively holding hands when walking along the sidewalk, swinging your arms in unison. It is putting the second coffee mug on the counter before the other person has gotten up, and doing it even when they aren't there. It is remembering to put the toilet seat down, even in public washrooms, where it makes no real difference.
I think you have to truly grow up yourself to understand what it is that makes a relationship work. You can still have some of the inner child, but you will share that with your partner. Nothing says grown up like playing together.
Before playing the blame game in any relationship, I like to look back at a couple's past. Did I see the small things from both people? It takes more than one person. If the small signs aren't there, the big ones (like marriage, children and sex) mean absolutely nothing.
Just a thought.
When I speak of gestures of affection though, I mean little things. A simple reaching over to touch a shoulder when needing support. There is nothing more intimate than straightening your husbands tie, or brushing hair out of your wife's eyes. Those are things that we wouldn't dream of letting anyone else do. Kids today think that showing affection is holding each other so close that you can't see light between them. Schools have to have rules about PDA (public displays of affection) because things are getting so out of hand. I know, I was guilty of it at one time myself.
There are lot of knowing smiles and inside jokes in a good relationship. What looks like silliness from the outside is a shared moment on the inside. When a couple are truly meant for each other, I can tell, because part of the time, I have now clue what the pair are talking about. It's all incomplete phrases. "Remember when John..." or "Just like my sister did." Really meaningful conversation is silent where two people are in accord. More can be said in a single glance.
True love is helping each other to a seat. It is instinctively holding hands when walking along the sidewalk, swinging your arms in unison. It is putting the second coffee mug on the counter before the other person has gotten up, and doing it even when they aren't there. It is remembering to put the toilet seat down, even in public washrooms, where it makes no real difference.
I think you have to truly grow up yourself to understand what it is that makes a relationship work. You can still have some of the inner child, but you will share that with your partner. Nothing says grown up like playing together.
Before playing the blame game in any relationship, I like to look back at a couple's past. Did I see the small things from both people? It takes more than one person. If the small signs aren't there, the big ones (like marriage, children and sex) mean absolutely nothing.
Just a thought.
Monday, March 10, 2008
In response
My wife read the previous post and asked that if the poem was the true worth of a man, what was the worth of a woman? I think that is a legitimate question, deserving an honest answer.
I would have to say that the worth of a woman is the same as a man. After all, is woman not man's counterpart, equal in every way, complimentary to his strengths and weaknesses? She is all that he cannot be, and yet is the same at the core. In any relationship, balance is of essence, and male and female must be balanced.
Many older religions based everything on the balances of nature. Male and female, fire and water, it was all about the Earth being in harmony, and us in harmony with it. For several thousand years now, there has been a loss of that balance, and our world has paid the price for that loss. Economies come and go, and the environment is shot.
The women's liberation movement of the seventies didn't really help much. Radical feminism just swung the balance the other way. The principle of regaining what had been lost was smothered by the rhetoric and slogans.
We will see a return to balance, as time goes on.
But the worth of a woman is the same as that of any man. It is family, honour and love of humanity. These are concepts most often associated with womankind. Without woman, there is no family. Without the honour of women, men have no use for it amongst themselves. Women have been the guardians of decency and love for humanity since the beginning of time. Those things are as much the definition of Her as of Him.
I would have to say that the worth of a woman is the same as a man. After all, is woman not man's counterpart, equal in every way, complimentary to his strengths and weaknesses? She is all that he cannot be, and yet is the same at the core. In any relationship, balance is of essence, and male and female must be balanced.
Many older religions based everything on the balances of nature. Male and female, fire and water, it was all about the Earth being in harmony, and us in harmony with it. For several thousand years now, there has been a loss of that balance, and our world has paid the price for that loss. Economies come and go, and the environment is shot.
The women's liberation movement of the seventies didn't really help much. Radical feminism just swung the balance the other way. The principle of regaining what had been lost was smothered by the rhetoric and slogans.
We will see a return to balance, as time goes on.
But the worth of a woman is the same as that of any man. It is family, honour and love of humanity. These are concepts most often associated with womankind. Without woman, there is no family. Without the honour of women, men have no use for it amongst themselves. Women have been the guardians of decency and love for humanity since the beginning of time. Those things are as much the definition of Her as of Him.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
The Worth of a Man
I wrote this for a fellow I have met on a website a short time ago. We have exchanged a few stories in fan fiction, and one of his pieces inspired this one.
The Worth of a Man
Some place his value in dollars;
When it should be in his deeds.
Some ask what he gets from others;
Not how he fills their needs.
Real value is in family;
And in vows so truly kept.
Not whether in mansion or hovel;
That his family has slept.
A man's value is in honour;
And his true place we can behold.
It's in love of his fellow man;
That his worth is surely told.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Chains and doors, metaphors
I finally heard back from an old friend today. We were once regular correspondents, back in high school. A day didn't go by that we didn't write each other a letter, or sometimes two. As with many relationships, we slowly drifted apart after graduation. We did write a few letters when we went away to different colleges, but they got shorter and shorter, and eventually just stopped.
Life is very much like a revolving door. People come in and stay for a time, but then, as time goes by, they have to go on about their business, and other faces and names come in to take their place. Sometimes the door swings open on a relationship more than once, but that is very rare.
More special is the person who comes into your life to stay. These are the constants, that anchors that hold us in our place in this life. We start with family, then best friends and finally spouses and children. Those faces change over time, but they don't go out of that door as easily for the most part.
I am grateful for the anchors in my life. My adopted sisters and brothers can be transitory, here for as long as they need to be and then just moving on. My wife and family are the people who are there forever, keeping me from forgetting what I am all about and where I come from.
Be sure to treat the anchors in your life with care. Keep the chains strong and the capstan oiled.
Life is very much like a revolving door. People come in and stay for a time, but then, as time goes by, they have to go on about their business, and other faces and names come in to take their place. Sometimes the door swings open on a relationship more than once, but that is very rare.
More special is the person who comes into your life to stay. These are the constants, that anchors that hold us in our place in this life. We start with family, then best friends and finally spouses and children. Those faces change over time, but they don't go out of that door as easily for the most part.
I am grateful for the anchors in my life. My adopted sisters and brothers can be transitory, here for as long as they need to be and then just moving on. My wife and family are the people who are there forever, keeping me from forgetting what I am all about and where I come from.
Be sure to treat the anchors in your life with care. Keep the chains strong and the capstan oiled.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
She's in.
My mother-in-law is moved in. More or less. She is staying put for the next couple of nights, until the curtains are up. It's never comfortable to live in a fishbowl, where the whole world can see. Besides, her phone won't be up for a while.
I hadn't realized just how much she had pared down her furniture. She cut back to only the pieces she is going to use. She has lots of space to get around. It somehow came out looking just right. Now she can putter about and put up her pictures and things, making the apartment really hers.
Sandra and I went over to help her unpack. Most of what she had there were dishes and ceramic nick-knacks. Most of the personal items had gone to her temporary home. She has the whole of the month to move them.
I didn't dare try to put anything away in the kitchen. As much as the bedroom is a place of privacy, the kitchen is a very personal room. Each person works differently in there, according to their needs and abilities. That method and set of routines determines where things should be put. My mother-in-law is set in a very early morning routine, and prefers simple meals. She has back problems, so she can't bend over. She has to keep the things she uses daily at a comfortable level.
Even setting up our kitchen took time and thought. My wife is vertically challenged, as am I, and neither of us is really supposed to be climbing on stools. This means that the top shelves of the cabinets winds up being deep storage.
Mary has the advantage of the spare room, and I think it will turn out to be a nice place for her to sew and work on things, and keep materials from invading her living space. If she feels like it, she can put a spare bed in there, or just close the door and forget the room.
The apartment suits her needs very well. She will be happy there for many years.
It is summed up by the fact that, before she got there to move in, there was a sign put up on the wall outside of her door. "Bless this home." Welcome home, Mom.
I hadn't realized just how much she had pared down her furniture. She cut back to only the pieces she is going to use. She has lots of space to get around. It somehow came out looking just right. Now she can putter about and put up her pictures and things, making the apartment really hers.
Sandra and I went over to help her unpack. Most of what she had there were dishes and ceramic nick-knacks. Most of the personal items had gone to her temporary home. She has the whole of the month to move them.
I didn't dare try to put anything away in the kitchen. As much as the bedroom is a place of privacy, the kitchen is a very personal room. Each person works differently in there, according to their needs and abilities. That method and set of routines determines where things should be put. My mother-in-law is set in a very early morning routine, and prefers simple meals. She has back problems, so she can't bend over. She has to keep the things she uses daily at a comfortable level.
Even setting up our kitchen took time and thought. My wife is vertically challenged, as am I, and neither of us is really supposed to be climbing on stools. This means that the top shelves of the cabinets winds up being deep storage.
Mary has the advantage of the spare room, and I think it will turn out to be a nice place for her to sew and work on things, and keep materials from invading her living space. If she feels like it, she can put a spare bed in there, or just close the door and forget the room.
The apartment suits her needs very well. She will be happy there for many years.
It is summed up by the fact that, before she got there to move in, there was a sign put up on the wall outside of her door. "Bless this home." Welcome home, Mom.
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