The first two photos were taken while Fern and I hiked around Table Rock a couple of weeks ago. If you look closely at the Fern pic, you'll see a wee mountain biker or two riding up a trail below us. (look to the left of her shoulder) Then there's the picture of me amongst a shrubby rock outcropping, somehow looking rather buff. I took the last picture while riding up Your Mom to meet Fern, who was walking Chester.

Yeah, so these pics are insanely random... The pictures in which you find Fern or I amongst a lot of sand were taken yesterday at the Bruneau sand dunes. The ones that show Fern or I sitting on some rocks were taken a couple weeks ago on Castle Rock. See, sand=bruneau sand dunes; rock=castlerock. Its pretty simple. Next time the format will be brilliant, I swear.


Check it...















That's Fern seeing the biggest sand dune in North America, walking up it backwards, and mounting it like it was just another pansy kids sandcastle. Cool, huh?

Hey. I'm starting to wonder if the French don't have good reason for being as cocky as everyone says they are. After Fern told me today that she's been feeling like she's been in a constant hurry for days now (she's been house/dog-sitting), and how she hasn't had much down time for herself, my feelings regarding the easy life have been reaffirmed. I too have felt rushed a lot lately. Yesterday, for example, I got off work at 7 and immediately headed out for a bike ride before the sun went down. Then, as previously noted, I met Fern for a drink at Penguilly's. Today, I left work around 7:10, hurried home, showered, and hitched a ride with Fern to the Fulton Street Theatre to catch a play that started at 8:00. Yes, I chose to go for a bike ride, and I chose to see the play; but I don't know, I just wish I'd never heard of the 40-hour work week. I'd love to be able to do these things and never be in a hurry. I wonder how many more years or decades will pass before people in this country decide that they no longer want to work their lives away, and adopt a somewhat French approach to living-an approach that, according to the stereotype, involves slowly savoring quality instead of quickly accumulating quantity. If the kiss tells us anything, its that the French can teach us a thing or two about living.

I'm noticing that the DVD my mom sent me, "Snowboard Academy", starring Jim Varney aka "Ernest", has a label stating "Security Device Enclosed". Just the fact that someone thought a person might want to steal the movie, and went to the trouble of enclosing a security device is, to me, mildly amusing. I almost smile when I realize that Jim Varney's face-the scary one he's making on the cover of "Snowboard Academy", the same one he makes when asking Vern if Vern knows what he means-got him a career in Hollywood that spanned over a decade.

I digress. Its bedtime. Night.

Gee, my new work schedule is swell. Yesterday was another day off. I spent it doing laundry, watching an old film starring a young Elizabeth Taylor on AMC, purchasing new sketchbooks and notebooks, sipping a mocha while working on my "project" at River City Bagel, going on a bike ride up Hulls and Sidewinder with Jennifer (which was pleasant n' sunny-and Fern was quite the little accomplisher of things), eating a Wopper with cheese meal at home, and finally, hanging out with Fern at my apartment at the end of the day.
Today, I worked. The work I accomplished consisted of organizing, stocking, and inventoring road tires and saddles. I also sold a custom "sunset" Electra cruiser, which made me want a cruiser for myself even more. After all the working, I road my bike around and up Table Rock. It was difficult. I cleared the extremely steep terrain with grace and consistency despite my immense suffering. Later in the evening I met Fern at Pengillie's for some wine and quality conversation. I knocked over Fern's wine accidently, which was embarrasing; and Fern screamed for a second when it happened, which was embarrasing for her. Otherwise, we had a good time talking about our personal clostrephobic/panic episodes (while swimming, in close quarters, and with Fern, getting her blood pressure taken). We also talked about how gossip and negativity in the work place is immature. I described to Fern how I almost was bitten by a boxer (dog) on the way over. Much more was said. Goodnight.

Here's just a quick run down of the last few days' events. Today: Sleep till 9:30ish. Meet Fern at Dawson Taylor for coffee chat n' read n' plan for San Fran trip. Eat lunch at Micky D's on Overland. Fern and I go our seperate ways so Fern can nap and Eric and I can find a place to watch the Amstel Gold race. Initially, folks at Bitter Creek wouldn't turn a tv to the Outdoor Life Network because, apparantly, some dude was watching an NBA game and needed all 4 tvs to do so. We checked the Ram, and despite being told over the phone that they have OLN, turned out they didn't. Buster's was closed (easter). We went back to Bitter Creek ready to get just a little belligerent if they wouldn't turn atleast one tv to OLN, but the waitress said we could before we opened our mouths. Watched the final 50 minutes of the race, which wasn't that exciting. Met Fern afterwards at her apartment. After a little R&R we walked Chester-the border collie of the person Fern is house sitting for. The weather was the nicest it had been all day as we walked around Camelback park. It was a pleasant time. Came to my apartment, ate dinner (pasta) and watched Alien 3, which I found to be quality entertainment.

Yesterday (Saturday) was a glorious day, weather-wise. Fern and I met at the M at 8:30 for mochas, and departed for the Owyhees an hour later with our bikes and gear. We rode one and a half times around the Barking Spider race course. Fern did well on the new terrain despite the horrendous wind that buffetted us from the southwest. We captured some photos of the adventure. Before leaving, we set out on a trail I hadn't been on before. It turned out to be one of the best trails I've ridden to date. Good times were had by all. Back in town we went our seperate ways, then met up to walk Chester. Saturday's walk was also nice, despite our legs being a bit weary. That evening we had a supreme pizza made at Winco's Leonardi's and watched Alien 2, which was shitty but not without its entertainment value.

Friday, the first day of my three day weekend, I found myself at River City Bagel, reclining on a leather couch, with a vanilla latte in one hand and the Davinci Code in the other. Later I went home intending to clean house and plan the evening, but because the weather was so nice, I ended up going on a very enjoyable road ride with Eric. We headed out Hill Road, up Seamans Gulch, down to Hidden Springs, turned around at a bridge that was under construction, back up and over Seaman's Gulch, to the Cemetary, up n' down the Vet's hill, and back home on Hill Road. We stopped off at Subway for sandwiches and cookies. I was near bonking as the only thing I had eaten up until 3pm was some toast. After cleaning up a bit, I readied myself for another bike ride with Fern, this time on mountain bikes. Fern, however, had dog-walking duties to attend to, so I met up with her n' Chester along a trail and accompanied her back to Share's house, where we chatted as she consumed a food item. Given the hour and Fern's lack of sleep the night before, we opted to not go for a bike ride and instead hang out at my apartment for a bit.

Thursday, I got off work fairly late and headed out for a bike ride of my own. As always, I enjoyed hammering up the mini-mesa, past the archery range, up the new switchback trail, to Bucks, up Shains, down Shains, and back home the way I came. I arrived home just as it became dark. With little time left in the evening, I called Fern and suggested we cancel any plans for a get together.

I apologize for the "just the facts" style of this blog, but I'm in a hurry as I really should be in bed right now.

It was a beautiful day today. Right, there was that one torrential downpour from 5 to 6pm, about the time Fern and I were supposed to be tearing up the trails on our mountain bikes. Once again, rain foiled our plans. Its now settled: 2006 will be remembered as the springless year. I just hope summer and autumn make a showing before it starts snowing again.

Fern and I made the best of the situation and spent the majority of the evening at Barnes n' Nobles. A pleasant time for sure, just not quite as thrilling as catching air down Central Ridge.

Needless to say, I'm ready for a good time. Unfortunately, my idea of a good time so often involves outdoor activities, which makes me a tad dependent upon the current temperature and precipitation. Right.

This afternoon, I created an entirely new blog called "Reconstruction of Disbelief". The purpose of this blog is to spare friends and family the pain of having to read through all of the material I intend to write as part of the research and analysis of religious belief/disbelief and philosophy of morality which I'm just beginning.

Other notes on the day: I finished reading "An Essay on Morals" by Phylip Wylie. At Barnes n' Nobles, I bought the Black Eyed Peas "Monkey Business" and Kanye West "Late Registration"-the only two rap/hip hop albums I've purchased since 1993, when I acquired the Tresspass soundtrack.

Its been a tough two-day work week. On my Monday, the register received over $13,000. I sold several bikes and had little time to do anything but sell bikes. Today, during my Friday, we sold almost $10,000 worth of merchandise, including 5 bikes sold by yours truly. Once again, I had little time to do much besides sell bikes.

You know, if there are food items easier and quicker to eat than corn dogs, I don't know what they are. I mean, a hot dog on a stick covered in cornmeal-its hand-held, pre-cooked, and bite-sized! Still, I didn't have time today to relish my lunch, it was that busy. My Monday (Sunday) was an 8 hour day and my Friday (Monday) lasted over 10 hours. So I'm a bit pooped.

The Paris Roubaix was raced yesterday in France and Belgium. Its an outrageously exciting 7 hour race with crashes galore, shows of brute force, and demonstrations of the mind's victory over pain; and a race that could only be viewed by those with access to televisions tuned to the Outdoor Life Network. OLN can only be had if one owns a Direct TV satellite. Needless to say, I hate Cable One for dropping OLN several years ago, and I hate the fact that I can't sit at home and watch all of the great spring classics that are shown on Sundays. I just couldn't miss the Paris Roubaix if I could help it, so immediately after work, I rushed down to Bitter Creek Pub and Grill and asked the bartender if she could please switch channels to OLN. Dave Gettle and I pulled up a seat and watched the last half hour of the race. I'm glad I did, because the craziest thing happened during the race, just 10 kilometers from the finish. The lone leader made it across some railroad tracks just before the railroad lights started blinking red and the gates went down. Three chasers, just 30 seconds behind the leader, blew around the gates; but moments later when Tom Boonen's group came upon the gates, the officials stopped his group as the train zoomed past. Boonen and his compatriots just stood there shaking their heads, knowing that the race was lost for them. After about 15 seconds, the train had passed and they were able to get going again.

For those who aren't cycling fans, let me assure you that this was a surreal moment; to see Tom Boonen, the defending champion of the Paris Roubaix and the current World Champion coming to a complete stop during the most intense, all-out, no holds barred period of the race, and standing there looking at the birds fly by, as a train passed in front of him. Strange moment indeed.

Tonight, like I've mentioned, I was pooped after being on my feet for almost 11 hours. So I called Fern and asked her to come by the house, since I was too exhausted to escape it myself. She came over and we chatted a bit. It was quite nice. Yesterday night it was much the same. I'm looking forward to my Saturday (Tuesday). I hope the weather will be conducive to bicycle riding. Night.

Satisfied in the End

I think I just experienced the joy of a Boise spring evening for the first time this year. About 10 minutes ago, I left Thomas Hammer and rode my bike down Bannock towards home. I headed east while the sun began to set behind me. Despite the time approaching 8pm; the sunlight that fell on Lucky Peak, St. Lukes, and the tops of trees around me was a bright and cheery orange, and the air that still held warmth was filled with the scent of fresh blossoms.

As abrupt as it may seem, these observations are the perfect segway into a quick discussion on the non-religious life, which is an ideal I hope to fully develop over the years.

One of the biggest challenges one faces when trying to imagine a happy, content life free of religious belief is determining how to deal with fear of death. An idea which might serve as an alternative to a belief in an afterlife as a means of preventing fear of death from paralyzing us in old age is the "satisfied" life. Indeed, while I haven't quite pinned this concept down, it has been a guiding principle for me for years now. It approaches common sense-something that most people can agree upon, and something that transcends religious belief. In short, the ideal is that through careful and deliberate living, through the nurturing and cultivation of joys and pleasure, we fill ourselves with greater and greater contentment, and anticipate an end of our life during which we are filled with satisfaction from that which we have experienced. The analogy I've used is the feeling you have after great sex, or an amazing meal, or a thoroughly entertaining movie-or all three. You've experienced the greatest feelings or sensations that you are capable of experiencing, and for a brief moment you feel as though you could die happy. Of course, there's something lame about a young person being completely satisfied. We associate youthfullness with an inherent dissatisfaction that is both charming and exciting. Great artists are never fully satisfied, right? Well, if they were smart, they would be when they're on their death bed. I think that it is necessary for us to live as though satisfaction is attainable, but only after seeking it in small measure, in moments, year after year, through new experience after new experience. If we can be confident that some dissatisfaction or jadedness or obsession will result in our accomplishing great things-things that we're sure will equal great satisfaction-then we shouldn't be too quick to rid ourselves of those feelings.
Of course, fear of death is complicated, and probalby something impossible to completely overcome. Still, someone on their death bed who has fond memories of their life and who has told themselves repeatedly that there will be a point when they are ready to go, will most likely feel better than someone who has spent their whole life slaving away for an after life that may or may not be waiting for them.

Another idea I've had upon the same subject is more philisophical. It pertains to the way we think about life. On this earth there are billions of people. Although we've been told that we are unique individuals, it seems unreasonable to think that each of us is experiencing and thinking extremely unique things. In fact, humans are so much alike that the only thing preventing all human life from being one life is the physical seperation of our bodies. If one were to think of human life as something that is more connected mentally, emotionally, and physically (family/genetics-you are literally a combination of your parents. your cells are a continuation of their cells/dna); then we would think less of the seperateness we feel by being isolated from each other, body and mind. In fact there seems to me to be less support for a liberal, individualistic view of being, and more for an integrated sort. Clearly, the latter is not the view that informs my choices on how to live my life-atleast not with the day to day minutia.
Anyway, if one considers this view of life, then they might see that the end of an individual experience in the form of death is not something to fear all that much, because other individual experiences continue, and one can imagine a simple shift in consciousness from our being to another being-not literally, exactly, but nearly so. A body may die, but pleasure, hope, anticipation, feeling, love, etc, remain just a psychic jump away. Our ego may die, our shallow self perception may die, but we basically live on in everyone else-who happen to be 99.999% just like us. In short, we need to get over ourselves at some point. I'm sure having children and grandchildren helps with this exercise. Personally, I suspect that I'm capable of relating to others enough-to seeing them like I'm seeing myself-to help dull the sharp fear of death, if that makes any sense. ...anyway, I can't die now because I'm starving...gotta go.

Oh, and the way this all relates to my bike ride: I felt a sort of joy or contentment that was conducive to the same type of satisfaction one would want to feel at the end of life. That's all.

Cleanliness is next to a man-made concept

Oh, I'm telling you now, this apartment of mine is going to be so clean, so pristine, that those who enter will think that they have just walked into Kal-el's Crystal Fortress of Solitude or the Celestial Room of a Mormon temple. But no, Superman's father will not begin telling them of their higher purpose on this planet, nor will they be looking forward to an eternity spent with their white bread family. Instead, when the veil is lifted, they will find my apartment completely clean and purged of all foreign and extraneous elements. My Dell computer will shimmer in the light of my Target floor lamp while the visitor sips a glass of savignon, reclines on my italian leather, and drifts off to paradise listening to the melodies of Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 6. The living room will be literally buzzing with a calming energy, such will be the power of chi in my apartment.

Yeah, so I've got this complex that makes me unable to achieve anything creatively if my apartment is not perfectly clean. I have two options in dealing with the complex. For one, I could start smoking weed and just chill, letting my apartment go, letting it become an even bigger mess than it's been in the past; and just create, just do, among the piles of disorderly shit and decay. Maybe I'd risk getting a mustard stain or something on a masterpiece, but atleast I'd be producing one. Otherwise, I could become a cleaning nazi-or ninja, if you will-and make the apartment as pristine as alpine snow. And, of course, I would have to stop doing everything I do that makes my apartment messy, and start being more disciplined in keeping it clean.

I've opted for the latter, and have just taken a break in my cleaning to let everyone know this.
Yes, its going to happen. Mark my words.

I knew I was going to have a hard time coming home and putting myself straight to bed. There's something about the internet-and having a blog-that grants me a little extra energy at the end of the day, even if I happened to be dead tired just minutes before.

Fern and I spent a couple of hours galivanting around downtown tonight in celebration of First Thursday and Josh's Friday. We walked through galaries of fine art and shops of fine wares in a desperate search for free wine and crackers with cheese dip. The highlights of the night included touring a new high-end clothing store and sipping exciting beverages at Boise's most aesthetically pleasing Sushi restaurant, the recently opened Koi on 8th street.

Hmm, I thought I might write a little in defense of my initial negative feelings towards religion, but now that I think of it, I know I've done so already in previous blogs. It would be best to attempt some sort of official justification for my project by putting together all of my reasoning in some concise, easy to read format, and that will take a little more time than I have right now. So, goodnight.

The Project

Yesterday, I once again mentioned an intellectual project that I intend to take up with greater energy in the coming days and weeks. My aim is to begin tackling the problem of our society's dependence upon faith and religious dogma as authoritative sources on living moral and full lives. The project I hope to commence today, and continue throughout my life, will first and foremost involve the study of the origions of religion, the nature of faith (individual and societal), the arguments for and against religious faith, the philosophy surrounding ethics and morality, and the science of human happiness-if one can be found. Integral to my studies will be an analysis and critique of the logic-or lack of logic-in all the material I cover (or at least as much of the material as I can deconstruct without losing patience). This methodology will be the catalyst for whatever intellectual evolution I experience. If after a few years of in depth study, analysis, and logical evolution, I still hold my present views regarding religion's negative affects on the human condition; then I'll attempt to "enlighten" others about religion, faith, and a life without them both by whatever means I determine to be effective.

Kooky, huh? As crazy as my project seems, philosophers have tried to reconcile faith and science for ages. My passion for reform in this area is far from out of the ordinary. My thoughts are definately far from original. However, I'd say that my goal is less to reconcile faith and science, but to help push one out of our consciousness (faith) so that the other (science, reason) can finally grant a good system of morals the solid foundation its always lacked, and our lives can become more full and happy by living smarter, for the moment, for ourselves. The evil I want to see diminished is not moral axioms like "do unto others as you would have done to you"; but blinding, dividing, deligitamizing religiousity associated with such beautiful moral sentiments. I too would like to see an "end of faith".

To prove I'm not off my rocker, that others feel the same way I do, I want to share two quotes that I personally find very powerful and moving. The first is from "An Essay on Morals" by Philip Wylie:

"Ideas of God have unquestionably inspired men to noble deed and filled some few with conscience. Perchance these would have been generous and possible, anyway. But it is certain that up until this very day, God has been man's main excuse for failure. God is his moral alibi. And whether he is born a blank tablet or whether his impulses are stronger than all the wisdom he may get on earth, he cannot discover, while he serves in piety, his own imagination. For to the extent a man believes, he cannot seek; and so long as he prays, he is not trying his own best. The dignity which is his as an animal, and the genuine humility which has kept all other species honest, can no more belong to a worshiper of God than to Hitler, for God is an idol, man's own image, and human reverence is the fatuous awe of the ape with the mirror. Promises of Heaven, alone, keep men enduring their hellish earth-of Milk and Honey, of Immortal Peace, of German Supremacy, or World Workers owning the World, and Thirty Dollars every Thursday."

Ok, you've got to exuse Mr Wylie for his pomp-he's obviously really into himself-but the book was written in 1947, and pomp was totally in then. Anyway, the words of Sam Harris do a better job of capturing the spirit of the topic:

"We do not know what awaits each of us after death, but we know that we will die. Clearly, it must be possible to live ethically-with a genuine concern for the happiness of other sentient beings-without presuming to know things about which we are patently ignorant. Consider it: every person you have ever met, every person you will pass in the street today, is going to die. Living long enough, each will suffer the loss of his friends and family. All are going to lose everything they love in this world. Why would one want to be anything but kind to them in the meantime?
We are bound to one another. The fact that our ethical intuitions must, in some way, supervene upon our biology does not make ethical truths reducible to biological ones. We are the final judges of what is good, just as we remain the final judges of what is logical. And on neither front has our conversation with one another reached an end. There need be no scheme of rewards and punishments transcending this life to justify our moral intuitions or to render them effective in guiding our behavior in the world. The only angels we need invoke are those of our better nature: reason, honesty, love. The only demons we must fear are those that lurk inside every human mind: ignorance, hatred, greed, and faith, which is surely the devil's masterpiece.
Man is manifestly not the measure of all things. This universe is shot through with mystery. The very fact of its being, and of our own, is a mystery absolute, and the only miracle worthy of the name. The consciousness that animates us is itself central to this mystery and the ground for any experience we might wish to call "spiritual". No myths need be embraced for us to commune with the profundity of our circumstances. No personal God need be worshiped for us to live in awe at the beauty and immensity of creation. No tribal fictions need be rehearsed for us to realize, one fine day, that we do, in fact, love our neighbors, that our happiness is inextricable from their own, and that our interdependence demands that people everywhere be given the opportunity to flourish."

I'd quote the whole book if I could-I definately encourage anyone and everyone to read "The end of Faith", but especially if you're a person of faith, otherwise its a bit like preaching to the choir.

I'm sure there's a lot I could edit in this blog, but its bedtime...

What a frightening journey! Walking home from the Flying M tonight I had to step carefully over and around hundreds of slimy worms who apparantly, like myself, felt that it was a good evening to get out. For most of the trip home, surrounding lights illuminated the sidewalk just enough so that I was able to avoid slipping on slimy worm carcasses. However, as I passed the cemetery on Warm Springs Avenue (the little guys were especially fat there), street lights no longer lit my path. I could only cringe as some steps felt just a bit softer than others. Of course, I wasn't really traumatized by the experience. I found the great gathering of worms rather interesting. I now have an intimate understanding of why people call earth worms "night crawlers". Those suckers can boogy, especially when lubricated by a days worth of rain. Besides the liveliness of the creatures, I found an interest in keeping an eye out for the biggest worm. By my measure, the longest was about a foot from end to end; which is long, but still small compared to the two footers I occasionally came across as a boy digging in Kansas dirt.

If you've visited my blog lately, you know I've been preoccupied with books and the reading thereof. See, I've recently changed my approach to philosophy. I used to take pride in the thought that my philosophical and moral constructs came about with little influence from formal education or willful absorption of classical works on the topics of philosophy, psychology, sociology, and political science. In college, I did take a class or two in which I gained a sound understanding of greek philosophy as well as common schools of thought, like conservatism, liberalism, and their various derivatives. But my understanding of the humanities (in my meaning, subjects which specifically address the human condition) is really an elementary understanding, since even in college I feel that classes were primarily elementary, not in-depth. At any rate, I've recently opted to really delve into the subjects that, for whatever reason, I find the most fascinating. Whereas before, I didn't have the freedom and time required to filter out that which I cared little for, now I'm reading books that address my favorite philisophical and moral topics directly. Finally, I'm glad that my immersion in the thoughts of others is coming after a significant period of independent, critical thinking. While I know that original thought is impossible, I hope that by always challenging the most basic assumptions of history's best known philosphers, my thoughts will remain progressive and I'll avoid getting carried away with any one school.

Yes, I'm happy to be reading material that will one day enable me to adeptly discuss (and write about) faith, religion, morality, way of life, and happiness with others; but lately I've been feeling as though I'm reading a lot and producing not enough. What I want to do is not just enjoy what I'm reading and learn something in the process, but record the evolution of my thoughts regarding my chosen subjects in a systematic way. I don't want to read something and think "well that's interesting" and then forget about it-I want to scrutinize the author's conclusions in order to derive strong truths and discard obvious mistakes. Plus, when an author's words spark an idea in my mind, I'd like to record the idea. Another constructive step I might take is to explain what, if anything, I hope to someday accomplish through this particular hobby/study. I have a general idea of what that is, but for now I'll say that in the short term, my primary motivation for opening, say, an "Essay on Morals" written over 60 years ago, is to stimulate my mind-just as I eat sushi to stimulate my taste buds. The word "stimulation", by the way, does well to represent the higher sort of living that we all hope to sustain throughout life. Who doesn't want to be perpetually stimulated, either physically or mentally?

Regarding my intellectual project on religion and morality, getting down to business, so to speak, is what I'm feeling very compelled to do. It'll have to wait another day or two, as the time is currently a minute to midnight and tomorrow's the start of my work week. My two day work week, that is. Oh, life is hard!