Nearly every night I move my body around symmetrical lines and curves while dripping sweat. After, I will breathe, sitting still in silence, in centered ways. In different ways. I will breathe until my mind is empty of all things that it can be. It is good, feeling this.

This night thoughts wandered in, like ghostly shapes around a boundless periphery. There is a very fine line between life and death, even when we are safe. The ghostly thought shapes made me wonder what you thought about this.

There is a subtle yet profound difference between having a capacity or having an ability. That difference defines and restricts you, as you consider such questions. The conscious mind lumbers through modifications in an effort to know, and so control. Or, perhaps, to wall away from sight.

This is why I thought, this maple bar is far too intense in its sweetness. Its experience is unreal, far beyond the pleasure of the blueberries just a moment before. The sweetness and texture was a visceral overload, like a bomb that blasts your attention toward meaningless things that always want more. I thought, I prefer the quiet flavor of a sweet yogurt with mint.

I imagined, this must be like sky diving, or various other thrill-seeking pursuits. A visceral overload intended to reveal just what living is like. Or so it is said. It is telling, however, how subdued and introspective these people can become, later in life. Something led them, eventually, to the stillness of blueberries.

Sometimes it is difficult knowing what is sacred and what is not.

I wonder if it is like Christians, proud to be killing in war. What else are we supposed to do, they ask. As the terrorists are getting ready to kill us, should we be all kum-ba-yah? Is it not the teaching of Christ, your Lord, that you should die, rather than kill another? Don’t be a lawyer with me. If nothing else, then yes, you should be all kum-ba-yah.

And you Jews of Israel. God told you that all people, in all their diversity, exist so that you can better know yourself. What is it that you are learning about yourself now? Just look how high the Christians have raised you up.

At least the Muslims can be understood better, on a more human level, as a people who rise up to fight against invaders and pillagers. But this religion, too, has been co-opted as another tool that guides the modifications of mind toward the unholy.

Ah, well. I suppose the oldest religion in the world might be right. “The faith of each is in accordance with one’s own nature.” What we see now is the nature of people, not their better spirit. Where is the belief that people claim to have? “Man is made by his belief. As he believes, so he is.” I can only assume that, though they say otherwise, they have no true belief.

Rather, “Living in the abyss of ignorance, the deluded think themselves blessed. Attached to works, they know not God.” Our acts, and their acts, are obscene. “As one acts and conducts himself, so does he become. The doer of good becomes good. The doer of evil becomes evil.”

There is such a thin barrier between life and death, existence and non-existence. We are all so unique. Everything is so unique. The scale of this is staggering for the mind, yet blissful for the heart. They are one, and the same.

“The wise man should surrender his words to his mind;
and this he should surrender to the Knowing Self;
and the Knowing Self he should surrender to the Great Self;
and that he should surrender to the Peaceful Self.”

I suppose doing that is harder than killing someone and then asking for forgiveness. Or conjuring through the mind some peculiar sense of duty, that flies in the face of both rationality and the true heart. But it is always harder to walk the walk, than to talk the talk. We know the difference, though, don’t we?

The difference is the blueberries. It is the silence, with only your breath. It is that other person who might be your friend, or someone you love. Other spirits who breathe. They are remarkable. They are beautiful. They are everything.

“The little space within the heart is as great as the vast universe. The heavens and the earth are there, and the sun and the moon and the stars. Fire and lightening and winds are there, and all that now is and all that is not.”

These are all words from the oldest of religions. From the most ancient civilization. Judaism and its offshoots of Christianity and Muslim are barely teenagers in comparison. Rowdy, unruly, and dangerous teenagers. Selfish teenagers. Thugs.

It is time now, I think. We have to grow up. We have to start taking care of each other — to help and to share. To enjoy blueberries, and all the other little things. To put aside the maple bars. To focus on that which allows our existence to be meaningful. Doing so is not an act of destruction. On the contrary, it is an act of creation. It allows us to see and feel the simple yet overwhelming importance of another. And in doing so, it becomes an act of creation, within ourselves.

“Creation is only the projection into form of that which already exists.”

Right now the yard is covered in thick snow. It is a world he has never known. When he goes outside, he runs, back and forth wildly, in leaps to keep his chest above the snow. Then he stops, bends forward, pushing his head deep into the white powder, and does a somersault, flopping onto his back, then kicking himself around in circles. Then he stops, jumping up completely still and alert, looks quickly from side to side, then rolls onto his back again, rolling and kicking snow into the air while snorting. Again, I don’t know why. I tell him that he’s crazy, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

He also has obsessions, namely tennis balls. Always, he carries at least one around with him. He even drops one into his bowl as he eats, apparently because it’s all good. He can hold them between his paws, while he’s laying down, his stubby claws looking more like fingers, wrapping around the little ball. He even rests his paws on them, slowing rolling them around under his touch.

Whenever I come upstairs from down, there is at least one tennis ball on the steps, waiting for me. I am expected to bring it to him. When I stand near the bottom of the steps, doing dishes or making coffee, I almost always hear a thwunk, thwunk, thwunk as a ball slowly bounces down the steps. Looking up, he’s laying at the top of the stair with his paws hanging over, staring down at me with a big grin, waiting for me to throw the ball back up to him. It’s irresistible. I throw it up to him, where he catches it, chews it for a moment, then sets it on the ground between his paws. Moments later, he hits it with the top of his nose, sending it bouncing back down the steps to me, with that silly grin.

There is existence and awareness in that creature, that is not illusion, I have no doubt. There is a soul, as certainly as we might have one. This is beyond most forms of Christianity, and many other religions as well. In this, at least, those religions are wrong. And so are people who believe cats can even compare.

He has a darker side as well, manifest through pathological jealousy. Any other dog who dares comes near to say hello, he intercepts, and shoves firmly away, but in the friendliest of ways. He is the only one that will have our affection.

There is even self-sacrifice. Hating riding in the car, he lays down stiff and motionless in the back seat, completely unresponsive. It isn’t terror or sickness. It’s more like the ultimate in “grin and bear it”. So why, you might ask, is he forced to ride in the car? And the answer would be, he isn’t. He insists on going because it’s a much better alternative than you leaving without him.

I think it is likely, in his dog brain, that he has no awareness differentiating himself from humans. Laying down next to him to pet his head, you will find his paw on your own head, which is not always pleasant, when claws are loving torn down your cheek.  Nor always, your arm held firmly between his jaws when he is exceedingly happy about something. He has learned to curb his enthusiasm, to a degree, but not enough, by intent, to squelch his personality.

Sometimes he needs to be reminded, not of his status, but of his limitations; those sometimes arbitrary-seeming rules of conduct. For example, the table is not his place to eat. The counter tops are sacred places, with strange and wondrous things to smell and eat, but never to trespass upon. And all of this is accomplished through the two soul-crushing sounds for which everything must stop. “No!” “Bad!”

Happily for him, almost everything else is good. It is a peculiar and simple life, almost always coming back to tennis balls. There are times when he brings two or three in his mouth to you, laying them in your lap, wide-eyed and waiting for you to throw them. But other times, when you might be in the mood to play, he will hide them from you. And still others, he will hoard them between his paws, in an iron grip. He prefers sharing the tennis balls on his own terms.

But, being smarter than he, I have discovered ways to circumvent his particularities. I keep a spare ball, all my own, out of his sight. One bounce of that ball, anywhere in the house, and he will completely forget about any balls of his own. One bounce, knowing that another ball exists that is not his, and he will fixate, absolutely, on making it his own. It does not matter that he already had two or three balls. If you have one, he must have it. I have learned to exploit that laser-sighted greed to swoop in and steal the balls he left unguarded. He knows this trick by now. I can see it in his face, when he hears me bounce that ball, out of his sight. He knows I will end up with his, and hesitates. But another bounce will drive him over the top, where he simply must have it. And then I’ve won.

But other times he will just bring a mouthful of balls to you, laying them in your lap. Or sometimes he spreads them out on the floor in front his face, where he lays with his chin on the ground, staring at you until you come take them to play. If you stand near them, he will spring to his feet, crouched in a serious four-legged kung fu pose, completely motionless, waiting to catch the ball with his paws if you happen to kick one instead of picking it up.

It is far more interesting when a relationship is not domineering. Personalities blossom, in unexpected ways.

Here, the Fourth of July is very loud, with fireworks shooting up into the sky in any direction you look, with the occasional bright white flash of some deafening explosion. Jake loves the Fourth of July. He is the only dog I’ve known to love it. He runs out across the yard, barking at the lights and sounds, in a happy, not at all anxious way. And when he is hot from running, like the rest of the summer, he will lay in his little plastic swimming pool of water, rolling around in near ecstasy.

After balls, water is his second love. Even though he cannot sink his teeth into it, he tries. When you pick up the hose, he runs toward you, expecting to be squirted. He requires it. You cannot expect to use water from the hose without this dog finding a way to get in it. Even strong jets of icy water he will lay down in, as if it is the most nonintoxicating and pleasant massage.  Short bursts he will bite at, trying to catch, or bat at with his paws. He is a strange dog.

Did I mention he does yoga? He loves to stretch, and loves help stretching further. Maybe this is how he can so easily leap into the wheelbarrow with such balance. Perhaps that is why his paws are more like hands. Certainly his flexibility, strength and precision set him apart from most other dogs. Perhaps this is just the pride of a parent.

For my part, I have never thought of Jake as a dog. Well, consciously you must. But I give him the benefit of more. Actually, I try to do that with all dogs. And yes, even cats. Well, after that initial period of ignoring them completely until they put themselves at a disadvantage by making the first gesture of friendship. But where they might walk away, I’ll listen. Even though it’s questionable they deserve it, after such games. But not all dogs, do I think of, as more than dogs. Their characters can be radically shaped by we humans. To me, that is a nearly overwhelming consideration. But it is not, for all humans.

It is a peculiar thing, the spirit of an animal. And peculiar even ourselves, when we have such power over it, what we choose to exert in that dominion. It is something telling, as all acts, and all inactions, are confessions of ourselves.

I can say he is a bad dog. Or a good dog. And I determine all boundaries and structures of his world. But I forfeit that power, as much as I can. Instead, I choose to be one creature to another with him. Perhaps this is how he can be something more - how he can be such a strange and wonderful dog.

In a large way, this is because of my dad, by his example, or the voodoo that seeps in through the alchemy of families. It is a realization that gives me pause. Because, if I must admit many things, it gives me, perhaps, just a glimpse, of my own wheelbarrow.

You might be seeing me, standing in it now, from your perspective that encapsulates such creatures. But I can talk. And were I to, I would tell you, I am not feeling particularly clever. I like the wheelbarrow. It’s a little above the ground and it’s fun to balance. Even when I get scolded. Or laughed at. I mean, look at this, standing in the wheelbarrow. You glorious little lunatic! Yes, you.

And so we know, there are people who say, treating your dog as an equal is a bad thing. They say, they need the discipline, hierarchy and rule of the pack. They are happier that way. Well, it isn’t true. They need excrutiatingly honest and sincere interaction with you. That’s all. And yes, that is a far taller order.

You must do things that you normally would not. Particularly if you have never done them before. If you are the slightest bit curious, that is, or think that you should. Or feel that you must.

I’m not going to say why. Just do it. If it doesn’t harm anyone. Take a peek behind those corners, inside those dark closets and basements, and under those stones. Stick your toe in. Take a leap. You just have to.

I did something completely out of character a couple nights ago. Something that I never do. Well, that I haven’t done for a very, very long time. I felt like I should, but I didn’t really want to. Even the thought of it made me feel awkward and uncertain. But strangely, that awkwardness began to bother me in other ways: it should not feel awkward, nor should it make me feel uncertain. And that’s what convinced me over the hump. I decided to do it. I was going to pray.

I know! But I’m telling you, you have to be able to take your own advice. Do something crazy. I told Jeff’s aunt, who seems like this sweet, wonderful lady, that I would pray her hip replacement surgery would go well. It seemed a nice and innocuous thing to do. But it wasn’t long before I wanted to back out of that promise.

But how could I? Backing out of something like that is like killing a butterfly, just to be mean. Not that I would know. Then I thought, well, while I’m it, I guess I’ll throw in some bigger ticket items, like including soldiers and civilians in the prayer, too. It couldn’t hurt, and would give me more bang for the buck.

And as that night wore on, the impending bizarre event loomed heavier and heavier on the near horizon. Why was it was such a big deal? It irritated me that it was a big deal. Was it irrational, being so bothered by something so benign? Was it my rationality that was offended, eliciting an emotional response of dread? That didn’t even make sense. Sure, rationality ought to be dispassionate, but even when it’s not, getting dread from something like having to pray just didn’t make sense. After all, this was simply a task that needed doing. Cut and dried. Matter of fact. But for some reason, it was HUGE. This made no sense.

Eventually it was time. Lights out, cell phone positioned, I took off my clothes and climbed into bed. Eyes closed. Laying on my back. Darkness. Ok. Here we go…

Now, simultaneously and contradictorily, in both hubris and jest, which you Psychologically dominated people are welcome to erroneously interpret as false modesty, I say that a lesser man would have just played with himself and gone to sleep. Nobody would be the wiser, if I just skipped out on this praying thing. Sure, I might have to answer to someone asking questions, but it would be a minor lie. Laying there, considering, I was on the verge of doing just that. But somehow, it sucked me in. I had to do it. I was going to pray. It was just too weird. I had to.

Ok. Wriggle, wriggle. Eyes closed. Dark. Silence.

I become very aware of the Earth at times like this, and our movement through everything out toward the stars — at least in my imagination.

Ok. Pray. Ok… Umm… Ok. Uh… who do I talk to? Where? Do I just think words, or do I speak into the darkness? Ok. I don’t need to speak. Thinking the words would be better. I’m sure he’s psychic. Well, he or she. Or whatever.

But words are so narrow. God has to be way larger than that. I can send him whole big landscapes of thought, instead of just narrow little words. I just can open up everything I am, and broadcast it out there, like an Arecibo made of meat and electricity. I wonder if satellites can pick it up? Damn freaks who go into the military to be voyeurs. Then again, people just broadcast themselves on webcams…

Ok. Wait. A prayer. It’s simple. Just pray for the hip. And not to the Hindu pantheon either, because she’s Christian. Those Hindu gods wouldn’t care about her hip. But why not? But maybe I could be just kinda Hindu-ish and unite with the vibrational energy that permeates the universe and make it flow into her hip toward the future when she’d be in the hospital. Gads, but it might short out the operating room equipment.

Damnit. God. Pray to God. Ok. God. Big guy. Yup. Ok. “Um, hi God,” I thought at Him.

Oh, how stupid is that? The creator of all existence, at all scales, both huge and subatomic and vast, and all the crazy intricacies, and I’m going, “duh. Hi God.” I mean, I can’t just outright talk to him, right? I guess he could have invented English, and speaks it. Or he’s like connected into everything, and I don’t even have to talk, because he knows it all, and made it all.

Damn. Hmm. Well, maybe I can just lay here, and be cosmically connected to him, and he’ll know about the prayer. Yeah. Ok. Deep breath. Focus. God blob. God blob… ok.. like all over the place and around, everywhere. Christ, how do I tell something so huge to make some person’s hip be ok? I mean, if the hip is bad, isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? How arrogant of me to try changing that plan. Or maybe he likes bad things until we beg him to make them good. That’s not very nice. Yeah, that whole problem of Evil existing so prominently. And those weak arguments about free will being the reason for it. Bah!

Man, but that lady’s hip. She seemed so sweet and nice. They’re going to have to slice into her, shatter her hip into pieces, dig it out, and put some synthetic bones back in her. That sucks. I bet lots of people end up going through that. All kinds of nasty, terrible stuff as you get older. And even those soldiers. I wonder how many of those young guys had to get their hips replaced cuz they got blown up? Lucky to be alive I suppose. So many bodies and lives, really. Strangers. I wonder what their stories were like? Never will know now, I guess. Silly young humans. Killing people. Getting killed. With all the conceits and vulnerabilities you see, in same people out here, walking around at a market. People that can kill people. Or get their own bodies ripped open by others.

And it wasn’t long before I found myself lying there, in the Dark, and in the Silence, amazed at all the images and feelings moving through me. I told myself, I’m not there with any of those people — I don’t know know any of them. It doesn’t matter. And it became even more proundly sad. And I found myself wanting, more than anything, for them all to be better. For them to be lifted out of that. To be free.

Stupid prayers. It wasn’t even a prayer. Well, maybe. I don’t know. But I was done. It was no different from, during every day, when you stop all the silliness around you, just to absorb in the world - to let your existence touch you, how it will. Or the existences of others. I don’t want that burden lifted. I need to feel that weight. I need to work to lessen that burden, and not just for myself.

Maybe that’s something God told me, in his language. I wouldn’t presume. Maybe when you pray, you’re not supposed to talk, or ask for things. Maybe you’re supposed to just open up and listen. Maybe our whole lives are supposed to be one, ever-present prayer. Maybe that’s why I felt so awkward, going to ask for something.

I wonder what people ask for, in their prayers. Or if they even pray, just to pray. Just to listen.

I guess I don’t know how to pray any more. Or I can’t. I tried, though. And I heard something really huge. And I am still really, really sad.

First, the comforting “dark flow” recently discovered by NASA that originates from outside our observable universe, sucking whole clusters of galaxies into oblivion.

Next, the other dark flow, who similarly wants to be outside the observable and accountable when doling out $1 trillion dollars to his former company and their friends — a reward for taking our houses from us, and lending themselves too much money. Some know this force as Henry Paulson, former CEO of Goldman Sachs before he entered into “public service”. That’s some gooood servicing. I mean, in addition to that, the Wall Street firms gave tens of billions more in bonuses to themselves last year than the tens of billions they lost. That is one clever man.

But you know we all have secrets. Like, it might be embarrassing if you were one of these companies lining up for food stamps. Can you imagine? “Oh, Bank of America, what are you doing here?” “Oh, um, nothing. Just, um, thought they were selling tickets for the ballet.” I mean, let those companies keep some of their pride at least — don’t make Paulson tell on them. That needs to be at least as secret as Dick Cheney’s White House visitors log.  You can trust him with secrets. Unless you’re a CIA agent who pisses them off. You shouldn’t be mean to Dick, though. His heart’s broke.

Joseph Naccio was mean. A big mean CEO of Qwest. Can you believe that he refused to spy on us for Cheney and Bush? He pulled some legal bull crap like, oh, you need a court order. He deserves to be in jail now for insider trading. Mean guy.

I’m inspired, too, that we can’t afford to provide health insurance to children, as the President’s veto said. That gave us money enough so we could buy an 80% stake in the country’s largest insurance company for only double that amount of money. We never would have been able to afford to buy a that awesome insurance company if we did something stupid like give kids health insurance.

It makes me proud, as well, that we didn’t waste our money on fixing all the bridges, levies and roads in the country. You just work and pour cement, and then what? And good thing too we cut back on those dumb American’s ability to file bankruptcy. They’re like thieves. But we’re smarter. Because now we have money to buy up all those poor people’s mortgages, and save Wall Street. They just don’t get that it will trickle down like refreshing rain on them if they just would stop bitching.

But still, probably my happiest moments are realizing the great benefit of investing just a small extra trillion dollars to invade other countries and set up prisons around the world to torture people. That’s some awesome return on our investment. I mean, they might hurt us. And we’re worth it.

Now if we could just stop sending so much money to Universities where kids learn so many stupid ideas, and get them going to private, specialized technical schools instead. They’d be so much better positioned for work! Just look at Louisiana, with the school vouchers they get now instead of public education. It’s a great model. No bothersome traditional curriculum to cloud their minds. Plus, all those nasty, dirty, run-down housing projects gone, with funds to replace them with shiny new casinos and resorts. That’s what’ll really help people in the end. Honestly, I think Texas would be better served if we rebuilt there with a nice Disney western theme park to draw tourists in, than replacing all those useless houses and city infrastructures that cost so much money, and give nothing back.

Did you know that Paulson, the Goldman Sachs guy, who wants the $1 trillion to give away, actually helped create the market and business practices that led us here? Lots of people say we’re in a grim situation. But that guy’s a joker — they just don’t get it. He says he doesn’t know how this happened. What a kidder. He’s just messing with you.

I mean, look. Both Obama and McCain’s top advisors were instrumental in the same policies. How could you think that anything might be wrong with that, when they’re all still around? It’s just plain paranoia to think like that.

Oh, and that Pallin chick. She’s crazy. Gotta love her. That Kenyan spiritual leader, Thomas Muthee, praying over her, so she could be Alaska’s governor… all bold-like and stuff? Well, she’s in good company there, with him and God raising her up. That guy even hunts down witches, specially those that cause car crashes in villages. I bet that how she commanded the Alaska militia. How can you argue with someone that God talks to, though? Puuleeez. You’ll being finding your ass out there on the dark flow in no time.

And poor, sad Nader, off on the side being all drown out and unpopular, with nobody listening to his rambling and ranting about all this boring stuff like corporate dominance, 2-party system lockdowns, opening stuff up, workers unions, and blah blah blah…

I mean really, what we need to do is head to the bank. Withdraw our money, and wrap those little green papers into twirly bits, strip naked, and shove them in every orifice of our bodies. Light them on fire, screaming as you run the neighborhood, until you find some piece of metal fence or something you can just leap and impale yourself upon. I mean, just imagine! All that twitching going on at once, with the little smoke clouds over everyone. How can it not just make you smile?

This may seem a little strange, and it is. It could well be wrong, too. But evidence is growing, only not quite as quickly the wild imaginings of scientists. However, we do know with certainty that something strange is afoot. Vera Rubins was the first person to empirically disclose it. If you remember, she was observing the huge galaxies out there, where you see lots of stars clumped together, turning like giant wheels. The strange thing is, there is not enough substance in galaxies to hold them together in their shapes as they turn. They should be flying apart. But they don’t. And that’s crazy.

More evidence for invisible dark matter comes from subtle observations. Einstein said that any object with mass will warp the space it occupies. That’s what makes gravity, according to him. It’s not really a force. You just slide down that warping, toward the center of the warp. Or rather, you slide toward the center of mass, like the center of the Earth. Or the sun. We orbit the sun because we’re falling toward it, but our centrifugal force of motion counters it, so we keep our distance. (I know, it’s more accurate to talk about inertia…)

But there are other implications to the warping of space. If space actually warped, it should change the path light travels, which is normally in a straight line. People trying to prove Einstein wrong tested this by looking at the stars visible around the sun. They found that they could see stars that should have been hidden behind the sun, but were visible anyway. This is called gravitational lensing, where light appears bent around massive objects, so that you can, amongst other things, see what is behind them. These people ended up proving Einstein right. It appears that objects with mass actually do warp space.

As a side note, this is a huge problem for particle physicists in quantum mechanics. They like to think of gravity as being a force-like thing that is “communicated” between objects with mass through a particle called a graviton. Even if they discover a graviton, it’s a huge leap to tie it back into whatever substance space is made of, so that they can also warp it, as we know that it must.

Anyway, the larger the mass of something, the more it warps the surrounding space. Galaxies have a lot more mass than our sun. And this is where we find another strong case for dark matter. We have observed gravitational lensing happening around galaxies. And the lens strength is far too strong to be coming from the mass of only the visible parts of the galaxy. There must be a considerably larger amount of material in the galaxies to account for the degree of warping we observe.

Cluster MACS J00254-1222 Credit: NASA, ESA, CXC, M. Bradac (University of California, Santa Barbara), and S. Allen (Stanford University)

Another compelling piece of evidence is found in observations of cluster MACS J0025.4-1222. This is a composite image, created by combining observations from the Chandra X-ray Observatory and Hubble. This is apparently a collision of two clusters. The red part is Chandra showing the glowing gases of the two clusters being excited as they collide. The blue part is the implied dark matter distribution based upon gravitational lensing effects observed by Hubble. It appears that the dark matter passed through the collision unaffected by any matter, while the baryonic matter interacts in the center. The evidence is compelling. But it is not definitive, as many people portray it.

There are also a couple mathematical arguments that suggest dark matter, but they confuse me. I won’t even pretend to understand them. I don’t trust them, either. String theorists, particularly those with a passion for supersymmetry, are too comfortable building houses of cards, and cheating their way out of death. I’ll stick with the experimental physicists.

So we know something massive needs to exist in every galaxy — a massive thing that we cannot detect. For a long while, many scientists thought it might be brown dwarf stars (very dim) and black holes which might account for all this extra mass. We wouldn’t be able to see them. However, despite having thoroughly watched, we have never seen something unexpectedly blot out any objects behind it, as should occur with large objects. So it seems the invisible stuff is something altogether new.

If dark matter is, indeed, non-baryonic, how can we know for certain that it exists? Well, if dark matter is actually WIMPs, as the theoretical physicists suspect, it would exist as a massive invisible cloud that fairly evenly surrounds galaxies (and us!). Dark matter would annihilate with itself whenever it came in contact with other dark matter, too, possibly creating an electron and an anti-matter electron (positron) in the process, with a burst of gamma energy. In this case, dark matter would likely be neutralinos, which is yet another subatomic particle in the particle physicist’s menagerie.

It is possible some evidence of this will be forthcoming. Remember all those space observatories I wrote about a while ago? One of them was WMAP and its job was to measure and map the background radiation of the entire universe. As it was looking around, it also had to look through the center of our own Milky Way. It was very, very bright. Too bright. And there are many who suspect this might be a result of the energy released by dark matter self-annihilation. And though it’s not saying much with theorists, it does say something — they can make the math work, too.

Dark matter is most certainly strange. Excluding dark energy, nearly 85% of the stuff around us is actually invisible dark matter, whatever it might turn out to be. We would have to ignore a lot of evidence to discount the existence of dark matter — or perhaps we are just not taking something very fundamental into account. And some galaxies are even stranger. For example, the dwarf galaxy Segue 1, which orbits our own Milky Way, looks to be composed of over 98% dark matter. It is a large turning cluster of invisibility, with just a few stars rotating along with it.

So here you go. Hopefully it will help you get into the Halloween spirit, knowing that there actually may be dark, invisible things literally surrounding us. It’s certainly looking more and more true.

Now, I’m pretty aware of my surroundings and I’m not clumsy. Nor am I prone to hallucination. I am also very skeptical. So maybe I shouldn’t believe my senses. Is that insanity? But skepticism of my senses, I can cope with.

Something inexplicable happened today. Those of you prone to hard-core reason will probably dismiss this. Rightly so. I pretty much dismiss it myself, but I can’t, at the same time. Because I was very much aware and in control at the time of the occurrence. Unfortunately (or fortunately), the occurrence was impossible.

I play fetch with Jake, a dog, every day. He likes playing with two balls at once. These are tennis balls. They are thrown from a contoured, solid plastic extension that grips the ball, resulting in longer throws with less effort. The balls are gripped tightly.

I throw the balls hard and fast, with accuracy. This takes a keen awareness of the ball within the grip — both the ball’s weight and the angle at which the grip is held and moved. It is part of the throw — an extension of my awareness. I do not drink, take drugs, nor any medications. I was not tired. There seems to me a very low probability that my senses were playing tricks on me.

I picked up a ball from the ground. Jake always sniffs it. It was firmly seated in the grip. As I raised the thrower up in the air, I was aware of the ball’s weight, while Jake took off running, anticipating my throw. He stopped, and turned around, staring at me. I held the thrower and the ball in the air, as we watched each other, him crouching and hopping slightly from side to side, tail wagging, preparing for the catch. This throw would hit the ground with a thwack about four feet in front of him and to the right, bouncing once in an arc that would land it in the bushes, which he would leap and pounce upon to retrieve it.

Here is the impossible bit. I know! As I started to throw the ball, everything was nominal. Then suddenly, there was no weight in the thrower. This was not an unusually hard throw. The thrower whizzed in the air with my throwing motion, but it was shockingly light — there was no ball. The ball had vanished.

I know! I must be mistaken. But I firmly seated the ball in the grip. Jake sniffed it before running. This is all very routine. I heard no ball drop, which I would do, had it. Startled, I searched all around upon the ground for it, in a large radius, methodically. It was nowhere to be found. Jake always sees where the ball goes. This time, he was just standing out there dumbfounded, then started running around sniffing, looking for it, too.

Nobody has to tell me that it’s far more likely I only imagined putting a ball in the thrower, or that somehow I wasn’t aware of it leaving the thrower at some point before or along the toss. I know that it’s far more likely I made a mistake, than for a ball to just vanish without a trace. But, at the same time, I know that it did. The ball simply vanished. And, for the rest of the time, we had only one ball to play with.

And Coleena, down there in Belize, I know what you’re thinking. It’s just like Ted the poltergeist who used to hide things. I was reminded of him, too. After today, I feel like I should be the one living in a land where lizards run around on their hind legs.

I suppose this is a deserved irony after harping on scientists to follow their own precepts within science. I’m also reminded of making my mom cry, when the newspaper accidentally printed the date one day into the future, and I backed up their mistake, making her think she had lost a day somehow. I suppose I’m thankful that I almost never know what day it is. And, that a ball impossibly vanishing only sparks a deep curiosity, rather than some flavor of panic.

Actually, I’m a little pleased that it happened. Is it because I am reminded that life is, blah blah blah? No. Because it gives me something to write about? Not at all — in fact, I’d rather not write about it. But I feel obligated. You see, something impossible happened today, that only me and the dog know about. It was a small, silly thing.

It’s just that there is something about the inexplicable that ought to be shared. Particularly when you might be thought insane. Perhaps it is a test of character, or a confession of fallability. Or being honest, despite inviting ridicule. Maybe hearing about it could help someone else to feel less isolated within their own experience of some apparent impossibility. I have no idea. And that, is a little bit fun. Except for the price tag, at least.

Unfortunately, I can’t seem to repeat it.

So, ok. We ate the damn fruit. Where’s that forgiveness? And why do we need to be forgiven, anyway? Was it your apple? Or are you just pissed off because we didn’t do what we were told? I just don’t see how that is freedom.

Personally, I think we could do a lot of really nice, great and cool things with the knowledge and abilities that we have. Yet here we have some lady coming onto the ruler stage who would rather burn down the apple tree than let us eat an apple. Apparently, that archangel must know better than God. Or maybe she’s so beautiful that God only talks to her, telling her what we need to do. Now that’s some vanity. An angel who thought themselves so wonderful and beautiful. Falling from grace, through vanity. Sounds familiar.

What is it that causes so many leaders, based in religion, to relentlessly drive doom and gloom into people? And then, preach about positivity… I suppose it isn’t a coincidence that similar techniques are used in interrogation and domination. And possibly why bondage is all about “trust”. Perhaps we’re really not as complicated as we might imagine, when it comes to influence and control.

Maybe it is difficult choosing between the person that will dominate you, straight to your face — and the person who would provide you with an illusion of self-determination. Sadly, that’s what is left to us in our political system and our business world. Mutuality has given way to agendas. And systemically, this is held in place with iron.

This recent strike by the Aerospace and Machinists Union against Boeing has an almost surreal quality. There is a hint of old-world nostalgia, like imagining one of those frame-clicking black and white movies with no sound. People’s unions against unfair labor practices. What a joke, right? They’re actually hurting those corporations. And that hurts us. What’s to keep Boeing from moving their assembly to China where they can save a bunch of money, just like Cheney’s Halliburton, moving to the Middle-East? The threat of the US Government refusing to buy from them? Or other US companies? If our government doesn’t buy from Boeing, there are plenty of other governments who will. And US companies will buy from whoever has the best price — and Boeing’s prices would be better off with a labor force from China.

But, like all “free” markets, the rain will trickle down to us eventually. Clear from China. I honestly don’t know what is keeping Boeing here. A sense of loyalty to Americans who only want to see how much money they can take from Boeing? Or maybe Boeing doesn’t believe we would buy from foreign companies, like Air Bus. Yes, more change is afoot.

Strangely, we have a few neighbors who are Republicans, and union members, and are currently on strike. They are very upset with Boeing for not meeting more of their demands. I suppose this isn’t much stranger than gay Republicans, though such comparisons would likely cause some fascinating in-fighting. Unfortunately, these labor issues, and nearly all issues related to corporations and the economy, are no longer differentiated in any substantial way by any party lines.

That’s why I am now advocating anarchy. Go on, everyone just run around doing whatever, whenever. Everyone is equal. Well, except for those assholes who get big sticks and make everyone else do what they say, setting themselves up as rulers. Hmm. Back to feudalism. A little like the anarchy of free markets, I’d imagine. Or do you have religion? It is a conundrum…

It was more than a little bizarre reading today about a girl who killed herself because scientists were switching on the Large Hadron Collider. She had been told that the LHC would destroy the earth when it was switched on. Actually, lots of people are believing this. I suppose she was upset that she would be killed. So she killed herself. I know! There are lots of people who don’t really think things through. But, at least her death was squarely within her control. It was a free choice. Sort of.

We know that the government, and more accurately, the people with power, are only concerned about maintaining and furthering their “elevation”. They accomplish this by providing for the needs of corporations because corporations can continue to elevate them even after they leave government. They help us only to the extent that they must, to gain and maintain their positions. Yes, there are a very few exceptions, but those exceptions are powerless. And it is a rare person of character indeed who can pass through those forces ethically and morally in tact, to achieve such powerlessness.

I believe that any true change will not appear at the top. True change will be local and it will be individual. Contrary to our given paradigm, change must result from a trickle up effect. Our smallest decisions can have far-reaching consequences, even though we are conditioned to believe otherwise. For us, individually, to take a stand, even on issues that may appear insignificant — for us to hold true to what we know is the right and good thing to do, despite any potential consequences — is a monumental force. Others will see it, in real life. It is tangibly felt, and effective. We must ourselves actively do what we expect from others.

How else can we expect our leaders to stand up for what is right, despite any consequences to themselves and their families? But we do expect them to, because we know that change must come. But how can we expect this of others, if we are not willing to stand for change ourselves? Do they truly have such awesome and far-reaching power, to make change happen all around, for us, like some convenient service? I do not think so. But we do have that far-reaching power. Each of us.

We are the ones who must stand firm in our convictions: convictions that are beyond any incidental cultural or belief system, but are instead fundamental to humanity. Truth, perhaps being the most important. Fairness. Mutual respect. It is astonishing how willing we are to compromise these. And as such, it is not so surprising that we are in the situation we are. With each decision we make, we create the world we inhabit. Even when it’s a secret. Especially when it’s a secret.

Now there’s a yummy apple. It’s an ancient apple, too. But we’ve eaten it. And so has everyone else. They know as well as you. There are no excuses. Now, watch for the prodding angels. You’ll see them all over any more. You can beat them up. Or, if you prefer, give ‘em a big smooch. They could use it. We all could.

Zen masters, gurus and CEO’s all would say that’s bad: the past is weighty baggage from which you must find freedom. In their view, the past is not who you are, now. Others, of a more academic persuasion, claim that a past unexamined is a past that forever shapes your destiny, while you remain an unwitting participant. Once again, you’ll find me straddling the fence. Possibly because it feels good, but mostly because I can’t help it.

The town I grew up in has grown a lot, itself. Tim, a close friend from high school, left for the West Point Military Academy. I had a dream last night. It began where I first went to college, in Bellingham. Nils and Matt stood with me, looking up a deep green mountain. There were two paths up it. One was a street, the other a trail. We never decided.

I was then at a busy intersection, 5 lanes wide, in my home town, during rush hour, packed with cars. Tim and I were walking. He was pushing a bike. I saw my wallet, made of black leather, bulging thick with stuff, laying in the middle of the packed 5-lane road, cars zooming by, knocking it around. It had money, credit cards, identification, and was bloated with important receipts. I wanted to leave it and go on. Tim wouldn’t hear of it.

I thought I could walk out, and the cars might stop. Or, I could wait a very long time until some break might just happen, and I could safely retrieve it. Tim was always impatient, so I walked out. The cars never stopped or even slowed — they just swerved, treacherously. Tim stood out there with me. I forgot what I was doing, being amazed by the powerful flow sucking at my limbs from every side. He handed me my wallet. He told me I did good. And I thanked him.

When Tim left for West Point, I couldn’t follow. I gave him my saxophone to take with him. I got it back a few years later from his parents. He was off doing military things. I gave away my saxophone one other time, a few years later again, to Tabetha, an artist, who also had to move away.

But that wasn’t part of the dream. A path, still, has not been chosen. There are so many people, in so many cars. They swerve, get flats, gas up, and carry on. And in the rear view mirror, maybe a reflection when changing lanes. A signal to others, out of courtesy, during positioning.

This is rather more like smoke signals. Or heads on a totem. A chanting medicine man, uninvited yet undeniable. A message through the past, informing the present. In a dream.

Where today, lillies have bloomed, after thunder and rain. And the dog sits, panting, muddy-pawed, lapping at milk.

I woke today, realizing I dreamed of Mercury and Ganymede. I cannot recall prior planet dreams. Sometimes I wonder if dreams have significance, like the poetry of tarot cards thrown to the ground in their iconic meaning, then observed, one against the other, in their positions. Or, the wisdom gathered over centuries, attributed within astrological symbols. I believe there is significance, if nothing more, in learning through exploration.

Ganymede, a prince of Troy, is a body trapped orbiting Jupiter, king of the gods. Ganymede,the most handsome of humans, was abducted by Zeus who had, upon seeing Ganymede, instantly fallen in love. All of the gods loved Ganymede save Hera, who, in her jealousy and anger, abandoned all of Troy. Zeus ordained Ganymede his cup-bearer.

Ganymede is a deep water ocean, held under miles of frozen ice. His core is molten iron, churned by the tidal forces of Zeus, creating the only moon known to produce his own magnetosphere by his magnet field. His magnetic moment is directed against Jupiter’s, yet at his upper and lower poles, their field lines flow together, open and aligned as one. Ganymede traps radiation from Jupiter into bright auroras and produced a radiation belt of his own. He is also the largest of all moons, nearly half the size of Earth. Larger, even, than Mercury, and nearly as large as Mars, the god of war.

But, being of water, Ganymede is far less dense. Mercury, a god, though smaller, with only a third of Ganymede’s magnetic strength, is over twice as dense. Though immortal, Ganymede is frozen and cold. As a god, Mercury can be nearly as cold, yet hotter than an oven - hot enough to melt lead and zinc. As messenger of the gods, Mercury moves swiftly, with a year lasting 88 days. As the god of travelers and of thieves, Mercury hides from our observations within the brightness of the sun, even as his mercurial nature sends him along the most eccentric of paths.

Like Ganymede, who displaced the Goddess of Youth as Jupiter’s cup-bearer, Mercury, too is youthful. His first day on earth, Mercury created the musical lute. His children include Pan, the musical goat-god of nature and fertility. Hermaphroditus, made both man and woman. Priapus, a cursed fertility god with a never-ending erection. And possibly even Cupid, or Eros. Even Autolycus, the prince of thieves.

Mercury is one of the only gods who travels unhindered through Hades. Zeus placed his love, Ganymede, forever into the heavens, as the constellation Aquarius. Both have a very thin atmosphere. Mercury’s is unbreathable, while Ganymede’s is oxygen.

Traveling to visit Mercury is far more difficult than visiting Ganymede. In a journey toward Mercury, we are pulled relentlessly toward the fires of the sun. As such, we must trick our way to Mercury, through Venus and Earth. However, in contrast, the path to Ganymede, forever falling within the gravity of Zeus, is a comfortable one. As long as we mind the deadly fallout of Zeus.

Image credits:

Statue of Ganymede and Zeus, Br. Lawrence Lew, O.P., used with permission.

Planetary images, NASA/Johns Hopkins University Applied Physics Laboratory, Carnegie Institution of Washington