As humans we are prey to the same physical frailties and infirmities of any animal. But as modern humans we have a social network, technology and learning to enable us to live far beyond the usual lifespan of a wild person living alone would. We also have the mind that enables us to see our own suffering and that of others, and to have the awareness that this will not cease in our lifetime, and is only relieved on our last day.
The old song Mr. Bojangles kept coming to me today as I was picking cactus on the terraces this morning…the song tells the age-old enigma of mankind… how to live through loss, and to come to terms with the suspician that things will likely not get better.
We all have our favorite people and animals taken from us…. and we’ve all witnessed our own friends, family and critters go through hard and tough times, and knowing we really cannot do anything but lend support and a hand to hold is some times the hardest thing to go through.
Whether it be substance abuse, war memories, physical/mental abuse, physical trauma/disease or just plain old loss of love or loved ones…. what can you tell a person? We know that in time most wounds heal, although they leave scars…. but scars are the knitted-together and tougher filaments of material, designed to keep that area less susceptible to further injury. And a broken bone, if well-set and healed, will be stronger than original. When we cry and experience loss… might it be that then we can more fully appreciate the good times and happiness? Indeed, happiness is a lofty goal to reach for, and I wish all well in attaining a good amount of it, and the realization when they experience it, to hold onto the memory of it. But there are some who seem to have all, and are mightily unhappy…. perhaps a certain amount of loss will open one to remembering the good times… and any wistful memories of the beloved departed will hopefully include a great many instances of joy… the joy that brings us to the realization that this life is for learning, that there is a great many good things awaiting us beyond this life, and we will be able to more fully appreciate them when we have lived through our travails here. Blessings of the Creator upon all who wander lost in this life, may they bring their troubled soul to a loving and caring Father.
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises,
was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being,
the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine
the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit,
the very wood that was hollowed with knives?When you are joyous,
look deep into your heart
and you shall find it is only that which has given
you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart,
and you shall see that in truth you are weeping
for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,”
and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits,
alone with you at your board,
remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales
between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty
are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you
to weigh His gold and His silver,
must needs your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.
Our little tiny town of Nipomo was catapulted to a sort of ignominy during the dark days of the Great Depression. A photographer named Dorothea Lange was tasked along with many others to roam the country taking photos of the travails of the people, to document the effects of the depression.
While she was traveling through our little town, she passed a small camp of the roaming field workers who traveled from town to town following the harvests. She continued to think on this while driving, the thought nagging at her that regardless of need to get to San Francisco quickly, she should stop at that camp. She made it almost halfway to San Luis Obispo before she decided to turn around and visit the camp.
It is said that she drove to the entrance of the camp, stopped her car, and took six photographs of a woman and her children. She then gave her name and the purpose of taking the photos, and got in her car and drove North again.
Soon one of those photographs became an iconic image of the Depression in America. It has been seen worldwide and is among the most famous photographs ever taken…and it all happened in our town.
Those days were full of homeless people, but we called them Oakies, itinerant fieldworkers, tramps, vagabonds and hobos then. There is something of an alluring mystique to the Hobo thinking, but this evaporates for most young men after a few weeks of little food and the dangers of the road. It is in honor of the people and spirit of those times that the song lyrics such as those below were written…
Migrant Mother by Dorothea Lange
‘The Best Durn Ride’
~IIIrd Tyme Out~
Clancy was an old man living in the old folks home,
telling me tales about all the roads that he once roamed.
He used to ride the freight train, hoppin’ cars and stockin gloves,
watchin’ that Missouri moon shining down from above
He was just a ramblin’ man, another year, nothing more,
made a little money pickin’ fruit and sweepin’ floors
He drifted back home again in 1944,
watched out for all the old folks while the whole world went to war.
Clancy was an old man and he told me stories about the things that his years had brought
He said some day he’d take that last great ride to Glory,
and it’d be the best durn ride he ever got.
Clancy never watched TV, he didn’t like to hear the news,
said he was just too old to put up with the blues
He traded in his drafty house for a warm room with a view.
Said he appreciated having nothing left to lose.
Clancy was an old man and he told me stories about the things that his years had brought
He said some day he’d take that last great ride to Glory,
and it’d be the best durn ride he ever got.
Now I travel on the road, and roam around from place to place,
and as I pass through a number more than the lines on an old man’s face…
some are very far away, an old Hobo’s changing cars,
tradin’ in his wheelchair for the Lord’s Great Road of Stars.
Clancy was an old man and he told me stories about the things that his years had brought
He said some day he’d take that last great ride to Glory,
and it’d be the best durn ride he ever got.
There is a national treasure that each society has, it is the aged. The ones with the experience, wisdom and humility to guide a society sit in their chairs and their beds and gaze through old eyes at a new world, one they know better than the others that they will soon leave. To them it is not an abstract concept, but a reality they have seen fulfilled time and again in their lives. But there is so much we can learn from these ones who have been through it all… do not discount the counsel of the aged, learn from them while they are still around to give guidance.
~Psalm 92.13-14~
Those who are planted in the house of the Lord,
Shall flourish in the courts of our God.
They shall still bear fruit in old age;
They shall be fresh and flourishing.
~ Job 12.1 2~
Wisdom is with aged men,
And with length of days, understanding.
~Proverbs 16.31~
The silver-haired head is a crown of glory,
If it is found in the way of righteousness.
~Isaiah 46.4~
Even to your old age, I am God
And even to gray hairs I will carry you!
I have made, and I will bear;
Even I will carry, and will deliver you.
Some say life is a game, and you have to play it hard.
It seems to me that life is much like a fight…. you never really know exactly what you’re up against, and when you’re tired and distracted, you get hit up alongside the head and don’t really know where you are or what’s going on…. yet you keep slugging away because that seems the only logical thing to do. A delirium of red and grey across your sight, pain racking the body, you continue on… until the big blow comes and you fall never to rise again.
We go through life, and we get some pretty hard punches… and all through our life there are those who fortell the end. We all know it is coming, but while very young, it is easy to disregard wise counsel. Later those blows we took as a youngster might come back to us at the time we wish to relax in our ‘easy chair’.
‘The Boxer’
~Simon and Garfunkel~
I am just a poor boy and my story’s seldom told
I’ve squandered my resistance for a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises
All lies and jest, still the man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest, hmmmm
When I left my home and my family, I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station, runnin’ scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters, where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know
Asking only workman’s wages, I come lookin’ for a job, but I get no offers
Just a come-on from the whores on 7th avenue
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there
Now the years are rolling by me, they are rockin’ even me
I am older than I once was, and younger than I’ll be, that’s not unusual
No it isn’t strange, after changes upon changes, we are more or less the same
After changes we are more or less the same
And I’m laying out my winter clothes, wishing I was gone
Where the new york city winters aren’t bleedin’ me, leadin’ me to go home
In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down or cut him
till he cried out in his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains
Yes he still remains
Love, hope and gratitude are very important aspects of life to carry with you through your life.
Still, we live in the land of Man… that cunning conniving creature… a predator. It is important to remember that everyone is in this for their own gain. Even those who serve know that their own growth depends on their service…. so really, they are in some ways acting for their own good even while they help others.
Some predators are so slick… terrible and vicious. They cause untold damage to others…. often for meager gain. How many thousands of dollars damage are done to cars to gain a hundred dollar radio? How much psychic damage is done to the innocent for the thrill of a moment? Guard always your front, keep your fists at the ready, and your back to the wall….
‘Dogs’
~Pink Floyd~
You’ve got to be crazy, you gotta have a real need
You gotta sleep on your toes when you’re on the street
You’ve got to be able to pick out the easy meat with your eyes closed
Then moving in silently, down-wind and out of sight
You’ve got to strike when the moment is right without thinking
After a while you can work on points for style
Like the club tie, and the firm handshake
A sudden look in the eye, and an easy smile
You have to be trusted by the people that you lie to
So that when they turn their backs on you
You’ll get the chance to put the knife in
You gotta keep one eye looking over your shoulder
You know it’s gonna get harder, harder and harder as you get older
Yeah and in the end you’ll pack up, fly down south
Hide your head in the sand
Just another sad old man, all alone and dying of cancer
And when you lose control, you’ll reap the harvest you have sown
And as the fear grows, the bad blood slows and turns to stone
And it’s too late to lose the weight you used to need to throw around
So have a good drown as you go down all alone, dragged down by the stone
Gotta admit that I’m a little bit confused
Sometimes it seems to me as if I’m just being used
Gotta stay awake, gotta try and shake off this creeping malaise
If I don’t stand my own ground, how can I find my way out of this place
Deaf, dumb, and blind–you just keep on pretending
That everyone’s expendable, and no one has a real friend
And it seems to you the thing to do would be to isolate the winner
Everything’s done under the sun
And you believe at heart everyone’s a killer
Who was born in a house full of pain
Who was trained not to spit in the fan
Who was told what to do by the man
Who was broken by trained personnel
Who was fitted with collar and chain
Who was given a pat on the back
Who was breaking away from the pack
Who was only a stranger at home
Who was ground down in the end
Who was found dead on the phone
Who was dragged down by the stone
Better it is to live your life with faith and honor and integrity
When you live properly every yesterday is a day not to be regretted
and every tomorrow is a hopeful day because your past has not sullied it
and you will not need to worry much about today,
because your habits are such to make it good.
The old folks who told us these things, knew…
there really is nothing new under the sun
but there is always forgiveness and hope and faith
and we all have our duties
as you go through your life, know where the dogs live
~Luke~
1Jesus said to his disciples: “Things that cause people to sin are bound to come, but woe to that person through whom they come.2It would be better for him to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied around his neck than for him to cause one of these little ones to sin. 3So watch yourselves.
“If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him.4If he sins against you seven times in a day, and seven times comes back to you and says, ‘I repent,’ forgive him.”
5The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!”
6He replied, “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it will obey you.
7“Suppose one of you had a servant plowing or looking after the sheep. Would he say to the servant when he comes in from the field, ‘Come along now and sit down to eat’? 8Would he not rather say, ‘Prepare my supper, get yourself ready and wait on me while I eat and drink; after that you may eat and drink’? 9Would he thank the servant because he did what he was told to do? 10So you also, when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty.’”
~Jethro Tull~
‘No Lullaby’
Keep your eyes open and prick up your ears
rehearse your loudest cry.
There’s folk out there who would do you harm
so I’ll sing you no lullaby.
There’s a lock on the window; there’s a chain on the door:
a big dog in the hall.
But there’s dragons and beasties out there in the night
to snatch you if you fall.
So come out fighting with your rattle in hand.
Thrust and parry.
Light a match to catch the devil’s eye.
Bring a cross of fire to the fight.
And let no sleep bring false relief
from the tension of the fray.
Come wake the dead with the scream of life.
Do battle with ghosts at play.
Gather your toys at the call-to-arms
and swing your big bear down.
Upon our necks when we come to set
you sleeping safe and sound.
It’s as well we tell no lie
to chase the face that cries.
And little birds can’t fly
so keep an open eye.
It’s as well we tell no lie
so I’ll sing you no lullaby.
Painted Ladies, the small butterflies that resemble the large monarchs have made a huge pilgrimage to the Central Coast the last couple days. Huge volleys of them roam the countryside, I see thousands crossing the highways before me. On my travels along the coast I have had my windshield splattered with yellow spots from their fragile bodies as I drive heedless and full of wonder through these little colorful denizens of the fields and vales.
They make their yearly pilgrimage from Old Mexico to the hills of the American West at this time. And this year with the huge amount of rain and the recent warm weather their numbers that have survived the trek this far are beyond any I recall ever seeing.
At this moment the world waits as a Pope lies dying in a dark room in the Vatican. This Pope, a deeply committed man, the idol of my deceased grandmother is soon to pass from this world. He will come into the arms of a loving Creator and will sit at the feast tables of the New Jerusalem. My thoughts and prayers go out to him, and to all who regard him with the high level of respect he has accrued throughout his papacy. He is a refined man, yet a common man, one of the men of the earth. Born into a common family in Poland, he worked with his hands as a young man, and never lost his touch and connection with the common man. On the wall in my grandmothers room to this day is a photo of the Pope. A photo of a strong man, firm of face and rugged in body and spirit. His connection to the peasants of Eastern Europe is perhaps what drew my grandmother to him. She was also of common peasant people of Eastern Europe, and the Nazi and Communist invasion of her homeland was the same as what the Pope encountered. Yet from both families, triumph from the ashes and smoking ruins of a devastated Europe was the end result. True, none of our family made it to the height of power and influence of the Pope, but when you come from starvation and nothing, to get to the point of even a warm house and plentiful food is a high achievement.
And now, with butterflies stuck in my grill, and the sad news on the radio, I travel these lonely roads; alone, but not lonely. I am surrounded by the awesome beauty of these coastal hills, the verdant green, rolling on in wave after wave of velvet-lining over geologic formations squeezed and folded by seismic forces. The Pope came as a seismic force into our lives through Poland from God, and the butterflies come with the soft flutter of wings through Mexico from God. And my tires roll on, through the day, a continual succession of miles eaten up by rubber as my life continues, and the butterflies and the Pope die.
Our hopes and prayers go out to those who’ve lost their homes and had their land razed by the fires. We’ve known several people who’ve lost all they had in brush fires in the past. And while they bemoan the loss of ‘things’, they are happy to have lived.
Looking into the eyes of someone who’s lost every single thing they own, and have them tell you they are just happy to be alive…. it brings to-home that we come into this life feeble, toothless and helpless…. and we’ll leave it that way also. What you have doesn’t count so much as what you’ve experienced… the life you’ve led, and the hope that next year you can go on living. It’s sad to lose your ‘stuff’, but a real tragedy is to lose hope in the future, to lose hope in humanity, and to lose hope in yourself.
‘One Way Donkey Ride’
~Mary Black~
There you may stand in your splendor and jewels
Swaying me in both directions
One is the right one, the other for fools
How do I make my selection?
The city lies silent in the warm morning light
The sand is as golden as saffron
Oasis of love, sweet water of life
God bless the poor ones who have none though they have tried
Someone is drowning down there in the flood
But this river will dry by tomorrow
Is it ocean or stream, this love in my blood?
Bringer of joy or of sorrow?
The end of the journey must soon be in sight
Birth is the start of the swansong
Oasis of love, sweet water of life
God bless the poor ones who want some, but are denied
No one is given the map to their dreams
All we can do is to trace it
See where we go to, know where we’ve been
Build up the courage to face it
While we fumble in the darkness where once there was light
Roaming the land of the ancients
Oasis of love, sweet water of life
God bless the poor ones whose patience never died
While we stumble in blindness where once there was sight
Searching for trees in the forest
Oasis of love, sweet water of life
God bless the poor ones who have none though they have tried
God bless the poor ones who want some, but are denied
God bless the poor ones whose patience never died
God bless the poor ones on that one-way donkey ride
‘Sadeness’
~Enigma~
Lyrics to Sadeness :
(Curly M.C./F.Gregorian/David Fairstein)
(Latin) Procedamus in pace
In nomine Christi, Amen(Let us go forth in peace
In the name of Christ, So be it)(Latin)Cum angelis et pueris,
fideles inveniamur
(We shall find the faithful in the
company of angels and children)
(Latin)Attollite portas, principes, vestras
et elevamini, portae aeternales
et introibit rex gloriae
Qius est iste Rex glorie?
(Lift up ye heads o ye glorious gates,
and be ye lifted up ye everlasting doors,
and the king of glory shall come in.
Who is the king of glory? )
(French) Sade dit moi
Sade donne moi
(Sade tell me
Sade give me)
(Latin)Procedamus in pace
In nomine Christi, Amen
(Shall we proceed in peace
In the name of Christ, Amen)
(French) Sade dit moi
qu’est ce que tu vas chercher ?
le bien par le mal
la vertu par le vice
Sade dit moi pourquoi l’ ‘evangile du mal ?
quelle est ta religion ou` sont tes fide`les ?
Si tu es contre Dieu, tu es contre l’homme
(Sade tell me
what is it that you seek?
The rightness of wrong
The virtue of vice
Sade tell me why the Gospel of evil ?
What is your religion? Where are your faithful?
If you are against God, you are against man)
(French) Sade dit moi pourquoi le sang pour le plaisir ?
Le plaisir sans l’amour.
N’y a t’il plus de sentiment dans le culte de l’homme ?
(Sade tell me why blood for pleasure?
Pleasure without love?
Is there no longer any feeling in man’s Faith?)
(French) Sade es-tu diabolique ou divin?
(Sade are you diabolical or divine?)
(French) Sade dit moi
Hosanna
Sade donne moi
Hosanna
Sade dit moi
Hosanna
Sade donne moi
Hosanna
(Sade tell me
Hosanna
Sade give me
Hosanna
Sade tell me
Hosanna
Sade give me
Hosanna)
(Latin) In nomine Christi, Amen
(In the name of Christ, Amen)
[ Sadeness Lyrics on http://www.lyricsmania.com/ ]
When I was in the service… our unit’s motto was ‘This we’ll defend’.
I think of that often as I walk past our front door where I have a mirror with our unit insignia and motto engraved…. that mirror means more to me than even the DD214 that let me out.
I think of that motto also when I see some of the awesome sights I see in California…. or when I look at some of my loved ones…. or some of the animals we have….
Thank You Lord, for all You have given me.
Mathew 6:
For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?
Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap, nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?
And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life?
“And why are you worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these.
“But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you? You of little faith!
“Do not worry then, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear for clothing?’
“For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.
“But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.
“So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
It is not this life that counts the most….
But how you live this life will likely have great impact on the next.
This ole house once knew my children
This ole house once knew my wife
This ole house was home and comfort
As we fought the storms of life
This ole house once rang with laughter
This ole house heard many shouts
Now she trembles in the darkness
When the lightnin’ walks about
Ain’t a-gonna need this house no longer
Ain’t a-gonna need this house no more
Ain’t got time to fix the shingles
Ain’t got time to fix the floor
Ain’t got time to oil the hinges
Nor to mend no window pane
Ain’t gonna need this house no longer
I’m a-gettin’ ready to meet the saints
This ole house is a-gettin’ shaky
This ole house is a-gettin’ old
This ole house lets in the rain
This ole house lets in the cold
On my knees I’m gettin’ chilly
But I feel no fear or pain
‘Cause I see an angel peekin’
Through a broken window pane
Now this ole house is afraid of thunder
This ole house is afraid of storms
This ole house just groans and trembles
When the night wind flings its arms
This ole house is a-gettin’ feeble
This ole house is a-needin’ paint
Just like me it’s tuckered out
But I’m a-gettin’ ready to meet the saints
And my old hound dog lies a sleepin’
He don’t know I’m gonna leave
Else he’d wake up by the fire place
And he’d sit down, howl and grieve
But my huntin’ days are over
Ain’t gonna hunt the coon no more
Gabriel done brought in my chariot
When the wind blew down the door
Ain’t a-gonna need this house no longer
Ain’t a-gonna need this house no more
Ain’t got time to fix the shingles
Ain’t got time to fix the floor
Ain’t got time to oil the hinges
Nor to mend no window pane
Ain’t gonna need this house no longer
I’m a-gettin’ ready to meet the saints
I’m ready to meet the saints
There’s some very nice musical styles out in ‘The World’. And we are privileged nowadays in this culture to be able both technologically and culturally to ’pick and choose’ what we like and want to listen to…
One of the musical styles that is reaching the world now, much due to the advance of the Internet into our lives is Celtic…. that lively musical style said to be influenced by the ancient Celts themselves… a people of huge swings in temperament… as well as being a restless migrating people (said to have been the most expansive ancient peoples). Due to their wandering inclinations, the Celts necessarily picked up a lot of traits both cultural, technological and physical from the disparate peoples they traveled to and amongst. Just as in agriculture, we fondly and lovingly endorse the concept of ‘hybrid vigor’… it is this very same mechanism that allowed the ancient Celts to be so widely spread, powerful and full of richness in their culture. The same thing is the greatness behind the USA…. we are composed of a great number of peoples from all over the globe… each one tossing some cultural riches and DNA into the big huge melting pot/salad bowl that is the people of the US.
A Canadian folk singer of Celtic origins and possessing the voice of an angel has been doing her part to spread the richness of the Celtic peoples to the world… Loreena McKennit has one of the crispest, cleanest and most ethereal voices I have ever heard….
The video below has her singing ‘Skellig’, a story of a monk in Northern Europe who travelled for several years to move to another monastery in the Mediterranean area… an area called Romany. It is told at the end of his life.. and he bequeaths all he owns, his books to an acolyte. I suppose it touches me on a deeper level because as a youngster I considered a move into the priesthood… into the Franciscan order…. but in the end I did not get the ‘calling’ that comes from deep within… and externally.
The video is homemade with photos taken from the web… photos showing old art of the Renaissance times…. fortresses.. etc.
It makes me think of the Europe I grew up in as a child…. and while I love the freedoms we have here in the US… the ability to do whatever and take the consequences we have here… there’s something about Europe that still touches me…. and to listen to this song brings some nice memories of warm sunny afternoons roaming through fern covered mountain hillsides under towering confers.. and happening upon ‘undiscovered’ fortresses, stone walls, covered in ivy… the roofs long decayed…. silent passageways…. beauty, intrigue and romance all enshrined into one mass of stone worked by thousand-year-dead hands.
Another fine song by Loreena is ‘Night Ride Across the Caucasus’
Sadly, as much a I love this nation… I am saddened that probably most US youngsters don’t know anything about the Caucasus Mountain range… we are woefully ill-informed on other places and peoples….
Mount Calvary is a monastic retreat in Santa Barbara. The monastery buildings burned down in the ‘Tea Fire’ of November 2008. Their website has a number of ‘Before and After’ photos. They are presently looking for prayers and thoughts, they will have to look to find the proper and best solution to their predicament.
Brother Joseph Brown is a religious icon painter… and he has a gallery of the beautiful icons he has created.
“Then a great and powerful wind
tore the mountains apart
and shattered the rocks before the LORD,
but the LORD was not in the wind.
After the wind there was an earthquake,
but the LORD was not in the earthquake.
After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire.
And after the fire came a gentle whisper.”
– 1 Kings 19:11-12
Galileo was forced to capitulate to the religious/political authorities.. and science took a step backward.
Usually religion will trump reason when placed toe-to-toe by their respective adherents. Because when ‘push-comes-to-shove’, the religious will often energetically promote their perspectives, and endeavour to embarrass all others to silence by implying they are not ‘properly pious’. In a social context, this is tantamount to banishment. Humans, the social animal will tend to modify their public statements to avoid the social stigma associated with ‘going against the flow’.
Religion does not always mean worship of a ‘Creator-Being’… religion can be any faith and belief in a system that has no real basis in verified proof. This is why we call religious persons ‘people of faith’. Many in the environmental/political worship system will say they are agnostics or atheists…. but perhaps their deep commitment to social and environmental issues is actually a type of religion.
The professor of the Classics in Calif, Victor Davis Hanson has a great article…. ‘I no longer quite believe’.
The adage ‘those who do not remember the past are doomed to repeat it’, has an ancillary meaning… we need to learn the past… and we should listen very well to the researchers in the antiquities of mankind.
