When the water touched my brow and Adam’s sin left me, I contrived by strain like defecation to bring tears into my eyes–but felt nothing. There was some simple radical difference; I hoped it was genius, feared it was madness, I devoted myself to amiability and inconspicuousness. I was seized by the terrifying transports I’d thought to find in toolshed, in communion-cup. The grass was alive! The town, the river, myself, were not imaginary; time roared in my ears like wind; the world was going on! James Joyce once wrote. I’m going to scream.
When we die there are two things we can leave behind us: genes and memes. We were built as gene machines, created to pass on our genes. But that aspect of us will be forgotten in three generations. Your child, even your grandchild may bear a resemblance to you, perhaps in facial features, in a talent for music, in the colour of her hair. But as each generation passes, the contribution of your genes is halved. It does not take long to reach negligible proportions. Our genes may be immortal but the collection of genes that is any one of us is bound to crumble away… We should not seek immortality in reproduction.
But if you contribute to the world’s culture, if you have a good idea, compose a tune, invent a sparking plug, write a poem it may live on, intact, long after your genes have dissolved in the common pool.
– Dawkins, Richard. The Selfish Gene. New York: Oxford University Press, 1976. 199.
I behave as if I’m carrying forward for my children. It’s what I’m to do and what I’m to fail to do. Just pick up and show them how to go forward.
I had two dreams about [my father] after he died. I dont remember the first one all that well but it was about meetin him in town somewheres and he give me some money and I think I lost it. But the second one it was like we was both back in older times and I was on horseback goin through the mountains of a night. Goin through this pass in the mountains. It was cold and there was snow on the ground and he rode past me and kept on goin. Never said nothin. He just rode on past and he had this blanket wrapped around him and he had his head down and when he rode past I seen he was carryin fire in a horn the way people used to do and I could see the horn from the light inside of it. About the color of the moon. And in the dream I knew that he was goin on ahead and that he was fixin to make a fire somewhere out there in all that dark and all that cold and I knew that whenever I got there he would be there. And then I woke up.
― Cormac McCarthy, No Country for Old Men
I called my father today to make sure he was still alive as I hadn’t heard from him in a couple of months. I checked for news of him in his small town and turned up a photo of a fresh looking grave stone stamped with his name, located in the town where he was born on the other side of the country. Subtitled “Loving Son.” His name is extremely rare, so it’s possible the grave contains a son of his I don’t know about. Maybe he doesn’t know about either. Not entirely surprising as I also found a marriage record for him and a woman who is not my mother dated just a couple of years before I was born. He has at least two other sons I’ve never met, and I’m not sure how many times he’s been married.
He answers the phone and says he was just busy getting a new shoulder. Got one side fixed up, a new knee, a hip, and time to move on to the other. He ends with I can’t wait to get better. I guess that’s some kind of moving on.
Aged 14 and midnight I hover outside a downtown bar in Tulsa Oklahoma. I’m with a coven of Christians hell bent on conversion of the drunken damned and debaucherous. I’m terrified and sweaty, yearning for the church van to return. I’m nowhere near committed to the mission of the witnessers who seem far beyond eager to plant some spiritual seed. Even at this age I’m too skeptical and logical to lie to myself and worse, to those who exit the neon lit door of the bar I’ve been assigned. What Jesus approach should a kid like me use when a beautiful whiskey laden girl, falling out of her clothes, steps out of the hand dirt stained door of the thumping club only to find me there with a floppy leather bible in hand?
I stutter of course. And she laughs. She walks around me. Yes, this really happened.
This was the mid ’80s. I’d arrived there with the core prayer group from Higher Dimensions Evangelistic Center, a pentecostal church emitting a high energy beam of charismatic nonsense. Here’s the interesting part: I was part of Pastor Carlton Pearson’s ministry. Pearson’s church grew to over 6,000 in the ’90s. He was made a bishop. He made piles of money. However, now, he’s been declared a heretic. As far as I can tell, he’s lost his faith, or the original version of it that includes the concept of Hell.
Every once in a while, back when I watched TV, before his heresy, I’d see him wrapped in gold suits on the Trinity Broadcasting Network as I flipped passed the channel. He was rich and disgusting. From what I hear, that’s all gone now.
Now I realize I was just orbiting their planet of belief. Watching the activity from the skies. I couldn’t connect with them or their faith. Back then I was caught in a painful, soul sucking vacuum hose of fear, not just of Hell, but also of the political climate of the ’80s. The Cold War and the rhetoric of Reagan had me terrified of nuclear war. For years, due to charismatic churches, our government, and news media, I feared being beheaded while trapped in the Tribulation because I missed the rapture or toasting in the silent blinding white light of World War 3. So full of fear.
It’s quieter and happier up here in rational space.
Quantum foam (also referred to as space time foam) is a concept in quantum mechanics devised by John Wheeler in 1955. The foam is supposed to be conceptualized as the foundation of the fabric of the universe.
Additionally, quantum foam can be used as a qualitative description of subatomic space time turbulence at extremely small distances (on the order of the Planck length). At such small scales of time and space, the Heisenberg uncertainty principle allows energy to briefly decay into particles and antiparticles and then annihilate without violating physical conservation laws. As the scale of time and space being discussed shrinks, the energy of the virtual particles increases. According to Einstein’s theory of general relativity, energy curves space time. This suggests that—at sufficiently small scales—the energy of these fluctuations would be large enough to cause significant departures from the smooth space time seen at larger scales, giving space time a “foamy” character.
With an incomplete theory of quantum gravity, it is impossible to be certain what space time would look like at these small scales, because existing theories of gravity do not give accurate predictions in that regime. Therefore, any of the developing theories of quantum gravity may improve our understanding of quantum foam as they are tested. However, observations of radiation from nearby quasars by Floyd Stecker of NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center have placed strong experimental limits on the possible violations of Einstein’s special theory of relativity implied by the existence of quantum foam. Thus experimental evidence so far has given a range of values in which scientists can test for quantum foam.
The fabric of space time is a mess of probabilities out of which everything you know and love takes the form of a wave through time. You are not who–or what–you think you are:
Studies at the Oak Ridge Atomic Research Center have revealed that about 98 percent of all the atoms in a human body are replaced every year. You get a new suit of skin every month and a new liver every six weeks. The lining of your stomach lasts only five days before it’s replaced. Even your bones are not the solid, stable, concrete-like things you might have thought them to be: They are undergoing constant change. The bones you have today are different from the bones you had a year ago. Experts in this area of research have concluded that there is a complete, 100 percent turnover of atoms in the body at least every five years. In other words, not one single atom present in your body today was there five years ago.
Thinking back to my post on Triggers, how is it a fragrance from a flower shop takes me back to the frigid room I played in as a child, if I’ve literally been replaced several times over?
THE DANCE Is it OK for Isaac to be outside? Those hawks are circling around. They're just doing their dance. They do that every night. She says. Oh. OK. He says. The panic sets in occasionally Of the mortality of it all. Mary Karr has me now. I see she's full of the shit That hurts most. And, that's OK, too. Just like those hawks circling around. They do that every night.
Here we see Officer Chas giving a helping hand to Officer Jolene after they volunteered to continue searching for more instances of silicon based life forms on Kepler 46f. In the background the rest of the team rocket to rendezvous with Sicore Orbiter.
It’s clear Jolene trusts Chas to help her over the crater pocked crust of Kepler 46f and it’s 40% greater gravity, taking a toll on her smaller form. Big brother takes no chances and is always eager to guarantee her safety.
Hopes: Trust vs. Mistrust (Oral-sensory, Birth-2 years)
- Existential Question: Can I Trust the World?
The first stage of Erik Erikson’s theory centers around the infant’s basic needs being met by the parents and this interaction leading to trust or mistrust. Trust as defined by Erikson is “an essential truthfulness of others as well as a fundamental sense of one’s own trustworthiness.” The infant depends on the parents, especially the mother, for sustenance and comfort. The child’s relative understanding of world and society come from the parents and their interaction with the child. If the parents expose the child to warmth, regularity, and dependable affection, the infant’s view of the world will be one of trust. Should the parents fail to provide a secure environment and to meet the child’s basic needs a sense of mistrust will result. Development of mistrust can lead to feelings of frustration, suspicion, withdrawal, and a lack of confidence.
According to Erik Erikson, the major developmental task in infancy is to learn whether or not other people, especially primary caregivers, regularly satisfy basic needs. If caregivers are consistent sources of food, comfort, and affection, an infant learns trust- that others are dependable and reliable. If they are neglectful, or perhaps even abusive, the infant instead learns mistrust- that the world is in an undependable, unpredictable, and possibly a dangerous place. While negative, having some experience with mistrust allows the infant to gain an understanding of what constitutes dangerous situations later in life.
Definition of trust
- 1 firm belief in the reliability, truth, or ability of someone or something: relations have to be built on trust they have been able to win the trust of the others
- 2 acceptance of the truth of a statement without evidence or investigation: I used only primary sources, taking nothing on trust
- 3 the state of being responsible for someone or something:a man in a position of trust
- 4 a person or duty for which one has responsibility: rulership is a trust from God
Trust is actually a synonym for faith:
noun. confidence – faith – credit – reliance – belief
verb. believe – confide – rely – credit – hope – entrust
And from the OED on faith:
Definition of faith
- 1 complete trust or confidence in someone or something: this restores one’s faith in politicians
- 2 strong belief in the doctrines of a religion, based on spiritual conviction rather than proof: bereaved people who have shown supreme faith
- 3 a particular religion: the Christian faith
- 4 a strongly held belief: men with strong political faiths
Trust is religion.
Roughly eight billion years ago a star exploded, casting into space the iron its engine produced, continuing the seeding of the cosmos with one of the basic ingredients required for life.
Iron is a chemical element with the symbol Fe (from Latin: ferrum) and atomic number 26. It is a metal in the first transition series. It is the most common element (by mass) forming the planet Earth as a whole, forming much of Earth’s outer and inner core. It is the fourth most common element in the Earth’s crust. Iron’s very common presence in rocky planets like Earth is due to its abundant production as a result of fusion in high-mass stars, where the production of nickel-56 (which decays to the most common isotope of iron) is the last nuclear fusion reaction that is exothermic. This causes radioactive nickel to become the last element to be produced before collapse of a supernova leads to the explosive events that scatter this precursorradionuclide of iron abundantly into space.
Iron is the essential element in hemoglobin, the protein that transports oxygen to burn nutrients that power life in vertebrates.
Hemoglobin (pron.:/hiːməˈɡloʊbɪn/; also spelledhaemoglobin and abbreviated Hb or Hgb) is the iron-containing oxygen-transport metalloprotein in the red blood cells of all vertebrates (with the exception of the fish family Channichthyidae) as well as the tissues of some invertebrates. Hemoglobin in the blood carries oxygen from the respiratory organs (lungs or gills) to the rest of the body (i.e. the tissues) where it releases the oxygen to burn nutrients to provide energy to power the functions of the organism, and collects the resultant carbon dioxide to bring it back to the respiratory organs to be dispensed from the organism.
Vertebrates are a form of life on Earth that began 525 million years ago, and here we see a photograph of two vertebrates: A dirty blonde primate nursing her infant daughter, absorbing the 4 million year old view of the Sierra mountains, while sitting on a 1,200 year old volcano.
This moment of rest and observation lasted about twenty minutes.
On my morning run there’s a spot that smells of a cotton field, triggering an intense memory of harvesting cotton on the King Ranch my summer years in high school. Other major associations that have hit me lately: Moth balls and a visit to Wichita Falls in Kindergarten; Plowed weeds and a stint cleaning rotten grain from a massive silo (hell on earth); Pesticides and getting bitched out by a crop duster for running over his hose (which he ran across the road) used to mix his chemicals; brake fluid and the failure of a hydraulic fitting while attaching a disk plow. And, I can’t walk by a flower shop without remembering all the time I spent in my parent’s own flower shop, mostly playing in the fridge room. What a great smell.
[NOTICE: I'm writing this in bed with a fever. I claim no responsibility for what I write.]
I’m interested in artists who hand me their work on the street, who scare people, whose work is confusing and contradictory, and especially those who redefine our notions of art. Art works, in and of themselves, are objects, but, for me, it’s my response to those works that makes them art.
Jolene Charging To Battle the Glandelinian Overlords
The photo above reminded me of a conversation which took place about 15 years ago between myself and my friend Jerry. I’d just met him (we’re still good friends, but don’t talk as much as we should) . He loved to show me that my definitions, at that time, of social limits, cool, and status quo were all absurd. He was right, too. I had no idea what I was talking about. I still don’t, and that’s what he taught me. I’m always wrong as there’s always someone out there redefining normal and pushing the limits of what is acceptable. Plus, Jerry was one of those people. He’s not happy unless he’s redefining reality. I find this fascinating and laudable. The conversation started when I noticed he was carrying around some prints that didn’t quite make sense to me. They were drawings of little girls with penises in some kind of fantasy world. Having just met him, I was afraid to ask (which is a weird concept to me now as I’m a totally different person, today I’d just tear into a conversation with just about anyone).
After a week or so, he was still carrying them around. I asked. He explained they were the work of Henry Darger. He also explained how Darger was a misunderstood artist who was institutionalized early in life and people generally misinterpreted his art as a form of pedophilia. Turns out, Darger was autistic, abused as a child, and his art was an expression of his desire to protect children. He was harmless. He was also, quite possibly, one of the greatest artists who’s work is classified as outsider art.
The term outsider art was coined by art critic Roger Cardinal in 1972 as an English synonym for art brut (French: [aʁ bʁyt], “raw art” or “rough art”), a label created by French artist Jean Dubuffet to describe art created outside the boundaries of official culture; Dubuffet focused particularly on art by those on the outsides of the established art scene such as insane-asylum inmates and children.
While Dubuffet’s term is quite specific, the English term “outsider art” is often applied more broadly, to include certain self-taught or naïve art makers who were never institutionalized. Typically, those labeled as outsider artists have little or no contact with the mainstream art world or art institutions. In many cases, their work is discovered only after their deaths. Often, outsider art illustrates extreme mental states, unconventional ideas, or elaborate fantasy worlds.
Darger grew on me over those 15 years. I studied him whenever I saw something that reminded me of his work. I find I keep going back to it for some reason.
Henry Joseph Darger, Jr. (/ˈdɑrdʒər/; ca. April 12, 1892 – April 13, 1973) was a reclusive American writer and artist who worked as a custodian in Chicago, Illinois. He has become famous for his posthumously-discovered 15,145-page, single-spaced fantasy manuscript called The Story of the Vivian Girls, in What is known as the Realms of the Unreal, of the Glandeco-Angelinian War Storm, Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion, along with several hundred drawings and watercolor paintings illustrating the story. Darger’s work has become one of the most celebrated examples of outsider art.
I like that he created his work in total solitude. I don’t know why I find that appealing. I like that he unknowingly challenged the definition of art. This led me to ask the question: What is art?
“Someone dumped a pile of elephant shit in a museum and called it art. I must live in art. I’m surrounded by shit all day.” — Stephanie Sicore when questioned about the work of Damien Hirst.
I remember when Hirst, Saatchi, and the Young British Artists made a stir back in the ’90s. What I didn’t notice was the Stuckists who responded to Saatchi, conceptual art, and Duchamp. They published several manifestos about the definition of art. To me their argument boils down to: Art is only painting with the product displayed in non-museum settings, without all the ego. I don’t think art can be restricted to such a narrow definition. To do so would be to make a subjective value judgement of the response one has to any work presented as art. While I do not appreciate the work of Hirst (if you can call it his work because he usually isn’t the one actually doing the work), I believe I have no right to say something is or isn’t art.
Who am I to define what is normal, acceptable, or appropriate for another’s response in observation? Who am I to question the value placed on response by another? These are things I simply cannot control. I’d rather relish the diversity and permit my own value response by taking the time to observe whenever I can.
I’ve found art, engineering, and organizations have something in common: Prestressing or pretensioning of environment, materials, or people to produce greater results. In being creative, I’ve found prestressing is submerging myself into a process or exploring as many methods as possible with a medium in order to build a form of tension that allows me to sustain and produce. In engineering, it’s the obvious use of prestressing materials in order to compensate for tensile stress:
Prestressed concrete is a method for overcoming concrete‘s natural weakness in tension. It can be used to produce beams, floors or bridges with a longer span than is practical with ordinary reinforced concrete. Prestressing tendons (generally of high tensile steel cable or rods) are used to provide a clamping load which produces a compressive stress that balances the tensile stress that the concrete compression member would otherwise experience due to a bending load. Traditional reinforced concrete is based on the use of steel reinforcement bars, rebars, inside poured concrete.
With a team you are leading, it’s preparing emerging leaders by placing your trust in their abilities beyond their own comfort–seeing beyond what they do now and giving them an opportunity to do more than they believe they can do. You’ve been there, and you know they can do more because you once did more. More means increasing impact by leveraging others, enabling teams to work together, or solving problems previously believed too difficult.
The trust you place in them is just like tensile steel cable tendons, compressing and balancing the stress of leadership. They become capable of building stronger bridges, longer spans, and bigger projects.
Unbonded post-tensioning tendons are commonly used in parking garages as barrier cable. Also, due to its ability to be stressed and then de-stressed, it can be used to temporarily repair a damaged building by holding up a damaged wall or floor until permanent repairs can be made.
The advantages of prestressed concrete include crack control and lower construction costs; thinner slabs – especially important in high rise buildings in which floor thickness savings can translate into additional floors for the same (or lower) cost and fewer joints, since the distance that can be spanned by post-tensioned slabs exceeds that of reinforced constructions with the same thickness. Increasing span lengths increases the usable unencumbered floorspace in buildings; diminishing the number of joints leads to lower maintenance costs over the design life of a building, since joints are the major focus of weakness in concrete buildings.
The first prestressed concrete bridge in North America was the Walnut Lane Memorial Bridge in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. It was completed and opened to traffic in 1951. Prestressing can also be accomplished on circular concrete pipes used for water transmission. High tensile strength steel wire is helically-wrapped around the outside of the pipe under controlled tension and spacing which induces a circumferential compressive stress in the core concrete. This enables the pipe to handle high internal pressures and the effects of external earth and traffic loads.
I’m seeing emerging leaders now, and I’m watching for opportunities to push them. We have a lot of work to do.
On John Muir, who’s name marks the trail Jolene is exploring above:
Of sensory perceptions and light
During his first summer in the Sierra as a shepherd, Muir wrote field notes that emphasized the role that the senses play in human perceptions of the environment. According to Williams, he speculated that the world was an unchanging entity that was interpreted by the brain through the senses, and, writes Muir, “If the creator were to bestow a new set of senses upon us . . . we would never doubt that we were in another world. . . “:43 While doing his studies of nature, he would try to remember everything he observed as if his senses were recording the impressions, until he could write them in his journal. As a result of his intense desire to remember facts, he filled his field journals with notes on precipitation, temperature, and even cloud formations.:45
However, Muir took his journal entries further than recording factual observations. Williams notes that the observations he recorded amounted to a description of “the sublimity of Nature,” and what amounted to “an aesthetic and spiritual notebook.” Muir felt that his task was more than just recording “phenomena,” but also to “illuminate the spiritual implications of those phenomena,” writes Williams. For Muir, mountain skies, for example, seemed painted with light, and came to “…symbolize divinity.”:45 He often described his observations in terms of light:
When Jolene walks into a room she tries every seat, just to see what it’s like. I think I will start doing the same again. At what point in life does one stop doing that? Isn’t it better to gather all the different points of view?
Enjoying watching Steph pick up a pencil more often. Her work is most inspiring to me as it always embodies creative courage. My job is to be a leader, and I’ve found that creativity is my fuel for leadership. I love to extract myself from the routine, find new, rough ground, and plow a new path–especially one that involves dreaming up new ways to open doors for teams and exceptional individuals.
With her, and as a pair, we can be unbelievably creative, and what a great relationship characteristic to enjoy. I’ve observed, and learned from, her willingness to dive right into any medium and flesh out all the ways she can express herself, but when she picks up that pencil and puts it to whatever is around her, she dazzles me every time.
Here we were letting the hosses run and bite each other. Steph was lead-and-paper scratching away in the truck parked by the arena.
Can’t wait to go out tonight.