The Bear, #MeToo, and, well, me too....

   True story.
   A few years ago, I was walking through the forest, alone, and I came across a bear. It was a mother bear and she had a cub with her. From all I knew of wilderness safety, this was a bad combination. I stopped dead in my tracks and watched them. My mind, however, was racing a mile a minute. It was going through all the small bits of data it carried regarding bears--- their tendencies, behaviours and inclinations.
   I had been in close proximity to wild bears before but it was always from the safety of a car, stopped by the edges of mountain highways. I had never been on foot, alone, with only the fresh morning air between me and a bear.
   What I knew in that moment was that the bear was the one who would be deciding what happened next. I knew I could neither fight nor outrun it. 
   Without the presence of the bear, the situation was as

benign as you could have made it. The sun was filtering down through the treetops, the forest was moist and primeval, and the air was easy to breathe. With a bear and her cub added to the equation, however, I was suddenly faced with some terrible possibilities, the consequences of which might leave my life seriously compromised or, possibly, over.
   The mother bear saw me at the same time I saw her. Neither of us lost eye contact for what seemed like an eternity. Blessedly, the cub had no idea I existed and was intent on exploring its surroundings. Its curiosity took it across the trail I'd been on and back up into the forest. The mother briefly continued to look at me but then decided to follow her cub. I gave them a minute to get further into the forest and then I hurriedly continued on my way.
   It did not occur to me then but it strikes me now that this must be what it's like for women to travel a landscape which, as much as the forest is made for the bear, is almost entirely advantageous to men---men of many ilks and dispositions.
   I, obviously, am a man and part of a subgroup which benefits from a great many things not always afforded to women. Of all of these, personal safety is perhaps the area in which there is the largest chasm of difference. For the most part, men go where they want with no fear. Until, perhaps, you are in the forest with a bear.
   When you are in the forest with a bear, you are at the mercy of whatever natural instinct strikes them. You have no idea when (or what) they might have eaten last, what the nature was of the interaction they had with the last human they saw, or, more simply, whether they were having a bad day or not. If you are lucky, you get to safely share their environment with them. If you have picked a bad day to be in the forest, then you are maimed or dead.
   In a way, is this not the same for some, many or even all women? Whether or not it is at the forefront of their fears, is it not at least subliminally there, whispering warnings? As benign as the setting may be, if you are a woman in close proximity to a man you are unfamiliar with is it not that much different than coming across that bear in the forest? And how many hundreds of thousands of women have found themselves in the forest, on a bad day?
   

It is now the era of #MeToo and #TimesUp. In an age when communication between people is both instant and constant, women have been able to rally around these hashtags and share their stories and fears. Because of this, both collectively and individually, they have found the ability to rise up against the evil which men sometimes do and have almost always gotten away with. #MeToo has also exposed the pervasiveness of male sexism---at any given point in their lives, pretty well all women could justifiably claim to have been victimized in some way, shape or form.
   In part because of #MeToo, patterns of male behaviour have been laid bare, open for inspection, and many of us men have been found lacking. We have also been found complicit---many times by simply looking away. We have heard stories from other men about the many ways they might have abused women, or continue to do so, and we have remained silent.
   In the ongoing aftermath of all this, many men, I believe, are now looking back at their past interactions with women in an attempt to determine whether at some point they might have strayed. Some men may have done this in an effort to predict possible fallout headed their way. Other men, simply in an effort to understand how their attitudes and behaviours in the past can be changed for the better.
   As a man, you can learn if you pay attention. I have a female friend on Facebook I've known for many years. She has an amazing smile, in my opinion, but she rarely uses it when she posts photos. In the past, I have gone out of my way to point this out to her, while commenting on the occasional pic. It has only been since the emergence of #MeToo and the accompanying discourse on latent sexism, that I've come to realize how inappropriate it is for me to do this, regardless of how well I know this woman and and how light-hearted our exchanges seem. So I've stopped making this mistake and am actually contemplating an apology. It is simply not my place to offer an opinion to someone on how they can more closely live up to what my expectations are on how physically attractive I think they could be.
   This seems like just a small thing to me but I also think it is indicative of what hopefully the new climate around gender roles is bringing---men rethinking how they act and react around women. And if you are on social media and you are paying attention, women will actually provide you with do's and don'ts.
   For a moment, back to the bear in the forest. 
   I drew the comparison between me encountering that bear in the forest and women interacting with men in common, everyday environments. I'm not sure how far-fetched or unrealistic comparing those two things may sound to you but the fact of the matter is this---for that length of time I was in that forest with that bear, my life was basically upside-down. Whatever vestige of male privilege I'd carried with me prior to that moment slipped away into nothing. No amount of physical strength or intellectual reasoning was going to come between me and that bear. If the bear thought it had any good reason to seriously hurt or kill me, well, that's what was going to happen. I would have done nothing wrong but having been in the wrong place at the wrong time, with a predator. Is this not sometimes what women face? 
   I'm going to present yet another metaphor or scenario which, as far-fetched as it might sound, I think might actually be applicable. As women walk around in this world they are faced with about 50% of the rest of the population being male. Out of that 50%, perhaps 75% of men are capable of performing whatever act of violence they wish upon whatever women they encounter. As a man, I can only think of one sphere of existence wherein, on a daily basis, I might have to live my life faced with similar odds of having to face violence or possible death. Prison. 

Is this what it's like for women, in a man's world?

   These are not numbers which will ever change and I doubt that many of us view life this way. But, for many women, this is a reality and for many women it will become a reality. As men, we need to understand our role in all of this and come to grips with some of the changes which need to happen.
   This will probably screw us up. How we treat women (how we treat people, in general) is something we started to learn basically as we were lying on our mothers' bellies for the first time. We learned from how our mother treated us and then watching how she was treated.  We have witnessed the many ways power can be used. We have spent our lives watching how the people around us used or abused relationships and we have formed behaviours around all this which will now be difficult to change. There will be confusion and there will be anger and we will rail against what seems to suddenly be an injustice we don't understand.
   Make no mistake about it, though, women will force a change.  Women will save themselves. Along the way, men will need to provide fewer reasons for women to be wary of us. We will need to come to grips with masculinity also meaning protecting, enabling, and respecting as much as it does anything else. We can do this if we just think. What we can't become, or continue to be, is the bear in the forest.
   
   
   

   

Old Friends

    Simon and Garfunkel had a song called "Old Friends" many years ago, on their "Bookends" album. It was a bit of a sad, yet beautiful, homage to the aging process. I was a young man in my early twenties when I heard it for the first time. 
   I had it running through my mind the other day after I left the restaurant I had just had breakfast in. I had been sitting near a table which had six elderly men, eating breakfast and generally being convivial. I'm not sure whether they were just a group of friends getting together or whether it was perhaps a "meeting" of some kind (a couple of the gentlemen seemed new to each other) but I found myself somehow or other enjoying being in their proximity. 
   Now, I did say elderly, didn't I? 

   Well, the fact of the matter was that they all were either balding or had white and/or graying hair, they were wrinkled in the usual spots, jowls were present, and they all wore eye glasses and short-sleeved dress shirts. And, wouldn't you know it, I just described....me!
   So, yes, I am an old man, by pretty well any definition you use. I am eligible for all the Tuesday Night Senior Specials and I get called "Sir" on a fairly regular basis. Dinner at 4:30 or 5 o'clock doesn't seem like that foreign of a concept. The eyesight's occasionally blurry and the hearing requires electronic assistance (although I am holding out on that one) and middle-of-the-night trips to the bathroom occur pretty well every middle-of-the-night.
   The accouterments of old age are all there and yet, somehow, I still feel removed from it.
   The adage goes You are only as old as you feel and I pretty well put full faith in it. For the most part, I have not stopped doing the things I have always enjoyed doing and this has always involved keeping the body and mind active. The body is active with running, hiking, golf and, occasionally, ball hockey. The mind is active with poetry, writing, crosswords and blogging.
   Because of all this, as I sat there in the restaurant the other day, it was hard to feel true kinship with all the gents at the next table. It kind of felt like watching my dad, perhaps sitting there with a bunch of my friends' dads---it wasn't like spying on a group of my peers.
   Sometimes I wonder if this is problematic, if maybe I should spend a little more time "acting my age". Of course "acting" would be just that---acting. There is no sense in attempting to be other than what you actually are, whatever that is. I suppose I'll just continue to do what I have always done until my passion for that thing has dissipated.
   Of course, it could very well be that every gentleman sitting at that restaurant table is as active and young-feeling as I am! Because I don't really know any of them, I am going to try and avoid the trap of making assumptions, based on their appearance. I think this has occasionally been done to me---because the trappings of old age apparently hang from my shoulders I have been conveniently placed in a niche, deposited on a mantle and only occasionally dusted off. This, of course, by people who don't know what I know.
   At one point in "Old Friends", Paul Simon says
                         Can you imagine us
                         Years from today,
                         Sharing a park bench
                         Quietly?
                         How terribly strange
                         To be seventy.
   Well, I may accidentally be sitting on a park bench someday with a friend when I'm seventy but it won't be terribly strange and the people around us are going to be wondering why those two old geezers are raising such a commotion with all laughing and giggling! And if it's not a park bench it just as likely may be a players' bench in a hockey arena or a participants' bench at a track meet!
   

Although it is quite easy to, I try not to judge people by what other people tell me. Generally, I prefer to react to people based on mutual shared experiences. What this means is that if you are a person in their sixties who acts like a person in their thirties then I am going to treat you like a person in their thirties, until given reason to do otherwise.
   I would only hope that people do the same for me---treat me as you know me to be. We will get along fine if you do!

You Almost Blew It, Anglican Church Of Canada!

  *I wrote this blog post a couple of days ago, when the vote to not support same sex marriages was announced. I was all set to post it when I discovered that there had actually been a miscount and that the Anglican Church of Canada would now be allowing their clergy to perform such ceremonies. At that point, it suddenly seemed pointless to post the blog. Upon further reflection, however, I am going ahead and posting it. Mainly because they felt it was something they actually needed to vote on and secondarily, that it was as close at it was*                                                                                                                                                                                                                            Yesterday, as I was going through Twitter, I ran across a report, posted by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, on the decision by the Anglican Church of Canada to not support same-sex marriages. Yes, you read that correctly, to not support same-sex marriages. If you'd like, you can read that report here. This decision was reached after a vote at the end of the six-day Anglican General Synod, attended by 200 delegates. In order for the resolution supporting same-sex marriages to have passed, it would have needed two-thirds support from three different orders---lay, clergy, and bishops. The lay and bishops were for it but the clergy (the guys who would ultimately be the ones performing the same-sex ceremonies) were narrowly against it.

Almost blew it.....

   I was both surprised and shocked at this and, quite frankly, rather ashamed.
   In a world where same-sex unions seem to have finally been accepted by the majority for what they are---simply two people who share the common bond of love for one another and wish to have it legally recognized and celebrated---it seems ludicrous and backward-thinking that an entity such as the Anglican Church of Canada should go out of its way to oppose them.
   Granted, the report indicates that the vote was extremely close and could not have actually been any closer. This is very small consolation. In this day and age, they shouldn't even have needed to vote---it should have been, to use a golf term, a "gimme". The Anglican Church of Canada really should have said to itself holy cow, there are couples out there who are dedicated and loving to each other and all they want to do is get married in a church and, by God, we should help them DO that!! What the vote actually indicates, though, is that some Anglicans are actually saying to themselves same-sex marriages? eww....that's kind of ICKY....!
   At this point, I just wanted to offer a little personal background on myself. 
   I am an avowed atheist. As a young child, however, I was raised in the Anglican Church, believed in Jesus and God, felt strongly about my religion and at one point even thought that being a clergyman was what I wanted to be when I grew up. And then I grew up! I have this clear recollection of the priest telling us near the end of our confirmation classes that, once we were confirmed, we would then be able to make adult decisions about church. My first adult decision, fueled at least partially by being in the throes of puberty at the time, was to stop attending! And that was the last time I was an active member of the Anglican church. Since that time, in the total absence of any proof or evidence that there actually is a God, I have become an atheist.
   Now, I told you all that simply to explain why it is that this decision by the Anglican Church has me as riled up as it does. There is a vestigial part of me which wishes, even though I am not an active participant in the church, that at least the Anglicans could have had the decency to do what I think is totally right in this case. This they have failed to do and this now the reason for my shame.
   I read the article, from the beginning, with shock and a modicum of disbelief. Part way down, however, my shock and disbelief turned to sadness and anger as I read the part about the Anglican minister, Rev. Allison Courey, who also happens to be a lesbian, who said that "many of us" had committed suicide because "death was better than being rejected by God". 
   This made me angry on a couple of different levels. Firstly, it seems that a simple recognition and acceptance of same-sex couples in the Anglican church might have gone a long way toward preventing this kind of tragedy. Secondly, the idea that anyone could feel "rejected by God" based on the legislation and beliefs of a bunch of Anglican bishops and clergy seems ludicrous to me. 
   This is where my atheism steps in. I truly don't believe there is a God and so I also truly believe you cannot be "rejected by God". On the off-chance that there  is some form of God then I don't believe he's going to let a bunch of humans on earth decide who he's going to reject or accept. It makes no sense to me that it might work this way. My advice to any same-sex couple who wanted to get married would be to go ahead and do that any old way you can and know deep in your hearts that God loves and supports you, regardless of what the Anglican church might say or believe. If God exists, I'm pretty sure He exists with or without churches!

   One of the other very disturbing things I read about in the article was when one of the younger speakers who was against the motion to allow same-sex marriage got up and declared that "God did not create another Adam, He created a woman." Okay, it always bothers me when people take the Bible literally... you know, ignoring all the evidence of pre-history and evolution. And if by some infinitesimal chance God did create Adam then he pretty well had to create Eve or the whole story ends there. After that, though, all bets were off!

   Here's another part which struck me as I read the article---the language. Here's a list of some of the words used: delegates, resolution, voted, percentage, debate, speakers, legislative, amend, authority, discussions, divisive. Now do any of these words sound like they have anything to do with spirituality!? Or does it sound a little more like current American news channels...?
   Okay, you have made me ashamed, Anglican Church of Canada, and I am pretty sure you've shamed, shocked and disillusioned many of your own faithful. Whether they stick around and continue to worship under these circumstances is hard to say. I know that I wouldn't but, then again, I left ages ago!

15 Years

   I am married to a woman, Doralyn, who is almost fifteen years younger than I am. I did not set out to marry a woman fifteen years younger but fell in love with someone who laughed at my jokes, was beautiful, loving, cared about my life and the people in it, gave of herself freely, read my mind, and, most importantly, kissed Syd. The fact that she happened to be fifteen years younger was irrelevant.

No age difference....right??

   Usually, the age gap is inconsequential. Many of our interests are the same and the ones that aren't only serve to keep us balanced. 
   Physically, I have always been pretty active and would guess that I am on par with men who are fifteen years, or more, younger. Mentally, I am slowly passing over into the "senior" zone and this is where likely the age gap makes itself felt the most. 
   I forget, she doesn't. I have been cast adrift in a sea of technology, she sails that same sea effortlessly. She cares how she looks. Me, not so much.
   The age gap also means that I have had fifteen more years of life experiences. I witnessed the Beatles. She sort of heard about them. Often I have found myself making cultural references about things she was never around to experience. Or possibly even care about!
   That fifteen year difference has also led to interesting relationship observations, particularly when we look around at the other people in our lives and consider their age differences.

My son, Bryant, in the middle.

   This same fifteen year gap exists between my oldest son, Bryant, and Doralyn. Then there's the aforementioned gap between Doralyn and myself. After that, there's another gap of the same length between myself and Doralyn's mum, Marlies. Finally, were he still alive, there would have been the same difference in ages between Doralyn's mum and my dad. At the same time that our age difference seems so viable, it is almost impossible to imagine any of those other people in our lives with the same age gap being paired up together!
   Another thing which never occurred to me when Doralyn and I started this journey is that I am going to be retired long before she is. At this point, I am actually only about a year and a half away from either full or semi retirement and Doralyn will still be heading off to work every day. Then, by the time she's ready to retire, I'll be almost eighty. Hard to say what kind of shape I'll be in as we're trying to enjoy our retirement together!
   As much as I've been talking about this fifteen year difference, I am also a firm believer in "you are as young as you feel". This and the fact that, physiologically, people age at totally different rates is something I place some faith in. What seems like a tenuous fifteen year age gap may, in reality, be more like a five year age gap. And that's workable, right?

My Dad, Doralyn, myself, and Doralyn's Mum. LOTS of 15 year gaps there!

   I also tend to define my age somewhat by the peer group I feel as if I belong to. I have been working at the same place for almost thirty-five years and have always considered my co-workers as being part of my peer group. As the years went by and the ever-expanding group of co-workers became younger, I still considered them part of my group. Occasionally, however, I'd find myself having a discussion with a co-worker about one of their parents and then realize that I was older than that parent! Yet, in spite of this, I still identify with the co-worker.
   Family-wise, I am part of "The Kids". There is the matriarch, Marlies, and then "The Kids". I tell myself that I am part of this group and then along comes my brother-in-law's wife, Sabrina, whose mother, Naheed, must obviously be  part of the older group, "The Parents". Naheed, however, is the same age I am! So, this "fifteen year" deal gets a little complicated sometimes...
   All in all, I think about this age difference very little. At the same time as I might be planning for the future, I am not wary of it. As much as possible, Doralyn and I take care of each other on a daily basis with little regard as to how old we are. There are old souls and there are young souls and I think that, soul-wise, we're right about the same age!
   
   
   
   
     

End of an Era

   Almost three weeks ago, in a trailer park near Port Franks, Ontario, there arrived an end of an era.
   After much soul-searching and deliberation, my mother-in-law, Marlies Buren, decided to sell the family trailer. It was a trailer in name only, however, and is only referred to as "the trailer" because, in its humble beginnings, that's what it was.

On the deck of the trailer...

   A little over twenty-five years ago, Marlies and her husband Cays procured a parcel of land at the top of a steep and winding gravel road in a section of the Oakridge Resort. They moved a small trailer there and began to use the spot as a summer retreat. The smaller trailer was then replaced by a fifth wheel, to which a  sun-room was added.

....and then on the deck of the fifth wheel!

   

Then, in its final incarnation!

Eventually, the trailer disappeared and with a combination of vision and keen craftsman's ability, Cays then transformed the sun-room into what it eventually became---a very modern, non-rustic home in the woods.
   As a relative newcomer to the trailer, it was very difficult for me to envision the place in its beginning stages. Old photographs have helped in this regard and I've tried to post a few of them here.
   Part of the appeal for me is that this is a family home-away-from-home. It's not as if Marlies and Cays scoured the

Definitely a place...

countryside looking for a cottage or a trailer and finally found a place that already had its own history. Rather, it was built by the patriarch of the family from the ground up, with much love and care. This makes for a better kind of place. The family pictures adorning the walls only confirmed this.
   In 2002, after a long battle with cancer, Cays passed away. There have always been bits and pieces of him, however,

...for family...

...and friends!

nestled away in the trailer's nooks and crannies---a picture, the cap he always wore, a walking stick. I never actually had the opportunity to meet the man but particularly whenever I was at the trailer he always felt close.
   One of my favourite trailer memories was when the aunts and uncles and other family members used the trailer as a gathering place to commemorate the fifth anniversary of Cays' passing. I spent most of that afternoon at the BBQ, flipping burgers and dogs. At the same time, I used it as a vantage point to watch all the different family members, many of whom I had only met once or twice, spend time together, swapping stories and sharing fond memories. I, unfortunately, had no stories to swap but was content enough to stand there and watch and feed them all!
   

Marlies and Cays

Over the years, the trailer has always seemed like the ideal place for the following generation of aunts and uncles to get together, with their kids. Every year, it seemed, cousins were able to come together under Oma's roof and enjoy their time with one another. As happens with time, however, getting families together becomes more and more difficult and as time progressed, maintaining the cottage became more than Oma was able or wanting to do.
   As a getaway kind of place, it was pretty well ideal. It always seemed quiet and pretty well secluded. There was nothing but forest behind the cottage and I can't recall how many times I just stood there on the deck, elbows on the railing, gazing out into the woodlands. The deck had a fire-pit built right into it and this always provided a wonderful end to the day. It was also the kind of place where you could rest easy with a book or sit yourself down to a card game. Pretty well perfect.

Out of the "oldies", my favourite pic....

   In later years, Marlies used the trailer as a meeting spot---grandkids, kids, brothers, sisters and friends all showed up from time to time, to enjoy both the solitude and the time together.
   

Kind of bittersweet.

So there has been a tinge of bitter-sweetness in the air these days. As much as we knew in our minds that this day was coming, likely sooner than later, the fact that it is now here has taken some of us, I think, perhaps a little by surprise and found us somewhat unprepared. As I write this Doralyn and the boys are there with Oma for one final visit. Other cousins have already had the last visits. Tomorrow, the trailer will switch hands for the first time and by the time you read this, it will belong to someone else.

Quin, Callum, Doralyn and Keenan, on their final visit to the trailer.

   Most endings, however, generally lead to some kind of new beginning. The sale of the trailer will open up some new possibilities for Oma. Of course, there'll be the money from the sale but also an increase in time available, away from all the travel and upkeep involved. She has already talked about the possibility of a newer and nicer apartment here in London.

The same kids--surrounding Oma this time!

   For the rest of us, visits to the trailer have ended. I imagine this will take some getting used to---regardless of how often we actually went there, it was always there in the back of our minds as a possibility. One can only hope that the new owners somehow or other come to value all the love and the history in the place.  
    

Death!! (the suspense is killing me...)

   Nearly two weeks ago, I wrote a post about Bob Ripley, the former United Church preacher who, after much agonizing and deliberation, had decided to become an atheist. He wrote about this in his new book, "Life After Belief: A Preacher's Deconversion".
   In my post, I mentioned how closely I found my own beliefs aligned with those of Ripley---it seemed as though we had traveled more or less the same path, at least in our hearts and minds.
   What I didn't talk about was what I found to be the most significant difference between his beliefs and mine.
   Ripley believes that, once you die, it is the end of things. There is no God, no heaven and no afterlife.
   I, on the other hand, believe there is a possibility that a portion of our energy goes on in at least somewhat of a conscious state.
   What I base this on is difficult to pinpoint. Science tells me that energy cannot be destroyed, that it merely changes forms. Anecdotal evidence suggests to me that spirits exist and we can communicate with them. Because of this, I am willing to hope and assume that something will become of me after I die.
   There are enough tales out there describing near-death experiences and people who claim to have seen wonderful glimpses of the afterlife that there is some contentment in believing that I will experience some of this when the time comes.
   Ripley believes that death is essentially the same as what you experienced before you were born---nothing. He points out all the time of the world's existence and all the monumental things which have occurred over the millenia---all of which were no consequence to us in our unborn state. And it will essentially be this same state we pass into upon our deaths. 
   I have considered this as well, as a possibility, and have come to the conclusion that this is the worst possible thing death might mean. And it really isn't all that bad, when you

Remember any of this?

stop to think about it. I think of dinosaurs, the Roman Empire and I think about concentration camps and then I think that all of those things existed without me and that I was fine with all that. Then, when I am dead, I will be fine with all of everything that happens for eternity. So what's to be scared of?
   I do, however, believe there's more to it than that.
   I believe that the actual moments of death will be a wonderful experience. Granted, there may be some suffering and anguish leading up to it but, when that moment comes, I believe I will welcome it. I am anticipating a yes, this is what it's all about type of experience.
   After that, who knows?
   I fully expect to encounter some form of cognizant state after I pass away, but to what extent I'm not sure. I also wonder whether it will be a lasting state or one which constantly changes. It might well be that the energy I take with me to the other side will slowly and eventually dissipate, leaving me in the pre-birth state I described above. The main thing is, I don't think it will scary and unpleasant, quite the contrary.
   

Thanks!

This, then, is where Bob Ripley and might disagree. He believes in a nothingness after death and I believe there will be an experience to be had.
   I quite often find myself  jealous of the people I have known who have passed. They have received answers to many of our great questions and they are not doing a good job of sharing them with us. I can only imagine that this is now one of their privileges, part of the rite of passage, so to say. The irony is that we all want to know, we just don't want to find out!
    
   
  
     

The Deconverted Mr. Ripley

     This year, for Christmas, I received a copy of the book "Life Beyond Belief: A Preacher's Deconversion".
   It was written by a gentleman named Bob Ripley who, for the last 30 years, has been an ordained minister in the United Church of Canada. Fifteen of those years were spent as the senior minister at Metropolitan United Church, one of the most prominent United churches in Canada, here in London, Ontario. For 25 years, he has also been a syndicated columnist, writing weekly about religion and spiritual matters.
   I have read his column in the London Free Press off and on over the years and always found them to be informative, entertaining and easy to read. For those many years his readers knew him as "Rev. Bob Ripley". Then things changed.
   I was reading his column a few weeks ago and noticed that there was no longer a "Rev." in front of his name. This struck me as being strange but I kind of passed it off. Then, shortly thereafter, I read an article about him in the Free Press and discovered that he had renounced his faith and become an atheist.
   My reaction to this was not hmm, that's kind of interesting, it was more like woo hoo, that's cool!
   I am an atheist myself and find I am drawn to people who either believe in deities strongly or, conversely, don't believe in them at all. My question for either group always seems to be why?
   In Bob Ripley's case, I found it fascinating that a person who for all appearances had been living and breathing Christianity these many years had seemingly suddenly just...changed his mind!

   At the same time I discovered that Rev. Bob Ripley was now just plain old Bob Ripley, I also found out that he had written a book describing in some detail the lengthy and difficult (as you can imagine) process he'd undergone in coming to the realization that there is no God. This, then, the book I requested for Christmas (the irony is not lost on me) and this, then, the book I received!
   A lifetime spent studying theology and spiritual matters has made Ripley a knowledgeable man, not only in regard to Christianity but also most of the other major religions. Throughout the book, he will often draw comparisons between the religions.
   What he ends up describing, as he writes, was the slow and steady realization he came to that the things we are being asked to believe in the writings and teachings of the major religions (most notably, in this case, the Bible) are simply things which make little sense. We are asked to believe things that could not have happened and we are asked to believe things which modern day science has disproved. He also takes great pains to point out, with quotes, the discrepancies between the different Gospels in the Bible as to what happened when, where and how. After awhile, it became quite apparent that the Bible was very much a man-made thing and maybe not so much the word of God.
   He also points to his increasing interest, as an adult, in the scientific world as one of the things which started guiding him to his deconversion. Faced with the ever-increasing things we find out almost daily about the universe, it was impossible for him to reconcile his religious beliefs with what he knew to be actual fact.
   More than anything, he became a man who was distressed with what he saw as groups of people who had, from ancient time times up to the present, used religion as a reason for inflicting suffering upon other groups of people. He quotes passages from the Bible and other religious tomes which call for the destruction of enemies and non-believers. He goes on to provide historical examples of religion being invoked solely to justify greed and power-mongering.
   As I read, I personally found myself feeling more justified and reassured in my own beliefs. In terms of religion I am nothing more than a layperson in my understanding of things. Here then, in black and white, was a man who knew what he was talking about and had come to many of the same conclusions I had!
   As you might have guessed, Bob Ripley has lost some friends. New friends, however, have been made. He also says there are aspects of the Church he misses, such as the music and the fellowship. I can only imagine the inner turmoil the man must have been going through, to think about the thousands he ministered to or counselled, the weddings he performed and the funerals he officiated over all in the guise of being a man of God and then to feel it necessary to renounce all that.
   He relates that one of his former parishioners talked to him after he proclaimed himself an atheist and thanked him for having helped her through a difficult time. Sometimes words of support do the trick, regardless of whether there's divine inspiration for them or not!
   Bob continues to write his column and if you're interested in reading the particular column he wrote about his life-altering decision, you can read it here. As I mentioned before, I enjoyed reading his work when he was still an ordained minister. At the same time, I viewed him as a Christian writing about principally Christian things and, being an atheist, there was always at least a subliminal grain of doubt nestled there in my brain. Now, he has erased whatever small misgivings I might have had and there is a somewhat more welcoming and comfortable space for him.
   I read "Life Beyond Belief" in two days, interspersed with much holiday goings-on. It is obviously a thought-provoking read. On the back cover, one of the book's reviewers, Rev. Dr. Daniel Meester of the Old First Reformed Church in Brooklyn, NY declares, "If you're a Christian, you should take this book seriously, and if you're not...you'll find companionship." I would echo that.
   A humourous note. On Christmas Day, my wife, Doralyn and I were in the kitchen, working on dinner prep. My mother-in-law was in the livingroom and had picked up and was perusing my new copy of Ripley's book. She called out to us and made a reference to "Ripley". Doralyn didn't quite hear her and asked me what she'd said. I told her the reference had been to the Bob Ripley book. Doralyn said, "Oh..I thought she was talking about Ripley's Believe It Or Not..." At which point I replied, "Apparently he doesn't!"   
   
   

Off To The Bank For Something Irresistible

   About a month ago, Doralyn and I were watching T.V. when a commercial for a bank came on. In the commercial a young man with a passion for guitars suddenly comes across the guitar of his dreams, in a pawnshop.
   He must have this guitar but in order to purchase it he must rush off to the nearest branch of this particular bank in order to take advantage of their expanded hours and withdraw the large sum of money required. In a world awash with credit cards, atm's, and debit machines it's a little difficult to imagine this scenario but I did mention it was a commercial, didn't I?
   Anyway, it prompted Doralyn to ask me the question, "So, Sweetie, what could you find that would be irresistible?"
   This gave me much pause for thought, kind of like those, "What would you do if you won ten million dollars?" kinds of things.
   The difference here was that I wasn't being asked how I thought my life might totally be changed, I was being asked what few singular items might have a profound and positive effect on it.
   For the most part, the things that began to pop into my head were all small (yet significant) things.
   Amazingly, a perfect example of something I might find irresistible popped up on the internet either the same day or the very next day after Doralyn asked me that question.

I discovered that the handwritten, rough draft of the lyrics for "Judgement of the Moon and Stars (Ludwig's Tune)", one of my favourite songs by one of my favourite singer/songwriters, Joni Mitchell, had come up for auction. This is a perfect example of the type of thing I'd have rushed off to the bank in order to purchase. A few pages of scribbled lyrics, torn from a notebook. What they represented, though, was almost priceless---a singular view into the thought process of one of the greatest songwriters of all time. On top of which, pieces of paper Joni actually touched! And, likely, agonized over!

   I have no idea what these items actually sold for. I am now left wondering what I might have paid for them had I accidentally come across them somewhere. I'm thinking a few hundred dollars, easily. Maybe more.
   

Leonard and Joni

It would be the same if I ran across anything personally connected to Leonard Cohen, likely. More than any other artists, Joni and Leonard struck more than musical chords with me when I was young and growing up. My parents at the time were more than a little concerned with my (what they deemed morbid) interest in Cohen and his music, assuming that I must be deeply depressed and, likely, suicidal. Actually, Leonard was having more the opposite effect---it seemed that by hooking on to whatever pathos Leonard was involved in I was able to indulge in my own little catharsis, a reprieve from teen angst.
   I was at the library quite a few years ago and took out a book of poetry by Irving Layton. In leafing through it, I discovered that it was actually a copy which had been signed by Layton himself. I thought this was an incredible find! Not only did I have the book, I had a little bit of Layton himself. Honestly, I was tempted to just keep the book, such was its increased value, in my eyes.
   So they are not big things I'd find irresistible---they're the increasingly simpler, more personal things connected principally to people from whom I took guidance as a younger boy/man.

Howe and Richard

   While I'm mentioning singers and songwriters I should also mention that I am not immune to sports figures as well. And once again, it would not have to be the game-winning puck or the all-time home run ball I'd be interested in. I would be just as happy having something Gordie Howe or Rocket Richard carried with them or perhaps wore or maybe even used once in a game. It would be the distillation of whatever might still be left of their ancient spirits embedded in whatever item it was that would intrigue me, more than anything.
   I'm sure that if I sat here and mused for awhile I could think of a few other things which might cause me to run off to the bank. Can you? In my particular case, though, there would need to be money in the bank...    

I Am A Blasphemer (Apparently)

   In my most recent post, I talk about the idea that you need to consider who is going to be reading or listening to the things you write and say. You then need to understand that the things you say and do may bear some consequence.
   In an extremely ironic twist, just a couple of days after I wrote this, a comment popped up which was attached to a post I wrote last year called "Christians in the park". There is a link to that post here, if you weren't one of the ones that read it the first time around. Essentially, the post described my distrust of groups or individuals who seem to have used Christianity as a cornerstone for either their own gain or as part of a political agenda. I then cited examples, as quickly as they popped into my head, of some of history's worst offenders.
   The person's two-line comment appeared at the end of the post but I have since deleted it, thinking that readers might attempt to link back to its author's blog and give the person a sense of audience he or she might not deserve. The comment described the post as "pure blasphemy" and then added that "God will surely repay" me. In my brief reply to this person, I quoted one or two nice things I did say about Christianity and then left it at that.
   The person who commented did so anonymously. You were able to follow a link back to his or her own blog but it was a blog in title only, had no content of its own and did nothing to actually identify its author. I also have no idea if its author read my follow-up comment, which has since been deleted as well.
   In my three years of writing "Neanderings", this is actually the first truly negative comment I have encountered. Because of this, I was initially taken aback. I then had to remind myself of my own warning to others---be prepared for the consequences of what you say and do.
   I have personal friends and acquaintances who are Christians and who demonstrate this and espouse it on a regular basis. I have never received a negative comment or even an inquiry from them as to things I've said about Christianity in the past. It could well be that they simply have not followed the blog (not everyone I know actually reads it) and therefore have never questioned me about it. Apart from this particular post, I have written on the subject several times in "Neanderings". I think this is because I often find myself wondering about, for lack of a better term, the "meaning of life". I wonder what, if anything, lies beyond. Because this is an underlying current, I write about it. I attempt to be fair when I do this and I attempt to explain myself clearly.
   If you go back and read "Christians in the park" very carefully, you hopefully will get the point I attempted to make. I can see where it's possible that someone might consider it to be "blasphemy" if you only were to consider some of the associations I make in it and if you only read the accompanying pictures I culled from the internet. It could be that the post is viewed as tainted simply because of those things.
   If anything, this episode has reminded me that there is an audience out there and that they may have strong opinions of their own. My biggest discomfort here is that the person who left me the comment chose to do so anonymously. I, on the other hand, do not have an issue with identifying myself. My best guess is that the person leaving that comment considers themselves to be a Christian. If he or she is a Christian who feels it's appropriate to anonymously attack (at least it felt like a bit of an attack) another total stranger's beliefs then I feel as though they might somewhat easily fall into the category of yet another person or group with an agenda of their own who props it up under the guise of "Christianity". Which is to say, under what I understand a Christian to be, that they are probably not one at all. In trying to take a truly Christian approach to anything, I understand that one of the best things to do is ask yourself what would Jesus do?
   I have a bit of a hard time imagining Jesus attacking me over a blog post.

Sleep

  

I still haven't figured out the whole sleep thing. I used to take sleep for granted as I've been doing it since Day One and every single other day for over sixty years now. It's the same with breathing, I do it all the time but I never take it for granted, I have a pretty good idea what the purpose of breathing is and why I need to do it so much.
   Sleep is different. Of course it gives the body an opportunity to rest and that is important but why can't you simply rest your body by plopping it down in an armchair for six to eight hours and leave it at that? Why is there a need for the human body to periodically enter a state of unconsciousness simply so that it can carry on the next day?
   Even scientists are a little vague as to why sleep is necessary. One theory has it that animals, in an attempt to avoid predators, would choose to remain still and quiet at times when those predators were out and about, in order to avoid detection. When evolution took over, this adaptive safety measure became sleep.
   Another theory is that sleep evolved as an energy conservation technique---you saved up your energy for when you really need it ie. hunting.
   Brain plasticity and the ability to grow cognitively are also touted as reasons sleep may be necessary.
   In all of this, though, there is still no hard and fast reason why sleep is necessary.
   What strikes me, though, when I really think about it is that sleep, unlike nourishment, does not simply produce a cause and effect relationship. It seems to assist the body with physical revitalization but this is not all that occurs when you sleep. You dream when you sleep.

   Is dreaming, then, also a vital by-product of sleep?
   If sleep were to be truly restful then there are lots of times when I would not want to have been dreaming when I was sleeping. I have awoken from a sleep beset by dreams which, rather than leaving me rested, only caused anxiety or fear, based on whatever it was I dreamt about. This does not seem restful to me.
   I wonder why we dream, then.
   As much as scientists have been unable to pin down exactly the need for sleep, they also have failed in the same way to discover the need for dreams.
   Dreaming occurs when you are the most deeply asleep, this occurring during REM (rapid eye movement) sleep. Some theories suggest that dreaming is a result of the brain trying to process the increased stimulation of the limbic system, the part of the brain which involves emotion, sensation and memories.
   Another suggestion for why we dream is that the brain, much like a computer, is simply trying to "refresh" itself. Another is the possibility that the brain is responding to and trying to interpret external stimuli in the waking world. As an example, a radio might be on somewhere and somehow the song on the radio becomes part of a dream.
   These are all theories and no-one really knows why we dream and why we sleep. Personally, I see sleep and

dreaming as the brain's opportunity to flex its muscle just a touch and show us that it's actually in control. It transports us out of the everyday flotsam of our waking lives and gives us little glimpses of what our hopes and desires are. It takes us places and puts us in situations we would never have entered, on our own. Dreams make us question our self-worth, sexuality, imagination, motivation and self-control. They show us our fears. Our brains, when we are asleep, screw with us.
   When I was younger, I tended to listen to and appreciate orchestral pieces of music. I heard these pieces in school and my parents had a couple of albums which highlighted them.
   Occasionally, as I was drifting off to sleep, I would hear music in my head---grand, sweeping pieces of music that I seemed to be in charge of and could propel in whatever direction I wished. These were always wonderful, semi-conscious moments. As an adult, I found I had the ability to sit down and compose similar music, with almost no formal training, apart from a few clarinet scales in Grade Nine. It's almost as if my brain were bridging some kind of gap between my own little dreamworld and the waking world I am familiar with.
   One of the other theories as to why we dream is that it provides an opportunity for psychoanalysis. It gives us the opportunity to look at a dream and try to figure out what it says about us that we might not already be aware of. I have some pretty weird dreams (we all do) and sometimes I have no idea what they're all about. Generally, though, if I really think about it, I can figure out why I was dreaming what I was dreaming. Often a dream will reference some occurrence from the past, even if that occurrence couldn't possibly be more inconsequential. It is up to us, then, to try and decipher the meaning of that dream. Possibly that inconsequential occurrence was a little more significant than we thought...?
   If I could choose to have dreamless sleeps I'm not sure that I would. I believe that a dream is as valid an experience as anything that might happen when you are fully conscious. They sometimes will show you a different way of looking at things. They might inspire or provoke you. Even the ones which scare you might tell you something about yourself (whether you like it or not!)