God vs. Science - A Moot Point

There are those that believe in the Big Bang Theory exclusively, giving no credit to a force greater than what science can explain. And on the other side of the line, there are those who believe the world was created in seven days, that evolution did not happen, that the world was manifested exclusively through a higher power.

Both sides are wrong. Because God is science, and science is God. There's just no other way around it.

It doesn't matter if you are a Buddhist, a Taoist, a Catholic. Whatever your God, whatever your belief, as human beings, we have been gifted with a fantastic combination of knowledge and curiosity that has lent itself to countless scientific discoveries - about how things on our planet have evolved, about how they work. This knowledge has helped us to unearth cures for horrible diseases, create vaccinations, improve our health and ways of life. The very fact that we have these capabilities can be a testament to a higher power. Conversely, the fact that you might believe in a higher power does not mean that issues of scientific substance and merit refute your God. In my eyes, they only strengthen the argument.

I appreciated the fact that my microbiology teacher recognized the great mystery of how perfectly everything fits together and works in such a complimentary fashion with regard to human biology. He would say things about how the way that the microflora we are given at birth to break down lactose was just "what the maker gave us." Nothing specific, nothing forced down anyone's throats, just a simple recognition that we know this is the way body breaks down milk and we don't really know why we were equipped with those abilities but not the ability to break down grass and cellulose like a cow.

Science is God and God is science. God can fill the gaps when science fails, or falls short, or can't explain a phenomena that renders itself stuttering. Likewise, science is the explanation of how beautiful things work together - how life ebbs and flows. The human body functions in such specific, intricate ways that it's an absolute work of artistry and nothing short of that. Evolution did happen - the whale's analogous pelvic bone attests to it - but how does that offend a creator? We share almost 99% of our genetic materials with chimpanzees and bonobos - we are all one and connected, and that is a humbling and empowering notion. Our cousin the star fish has cells that undergo mitosis just as ours do, and chromosomes packed with DNA like the almighty homosapien.

Science is just the understanding and testament to the beauty of life. The energy around us, that thing that people call Allah or God; both are real and work together. The harmony is astounding, inspiring, mind boggling - if you open your mind to that possibility. They do not oppose each other, they are each other. Like pieces of a puzzle. Like the hydrogen bonds that connect nucleotides in DNA. Like hands that fit together in prayer or meditation over the heart. After all, The Maker is, and was, a scientist, and a damn good one at that.

You Are the Eye of the Storm

Pray for peace. Let's give each other the sign of peace. Chuck the deuce. Peace be with you. Wave the white flag. A peaceful protest.

That seemingly unobtainable goal, world peace - it's almost a joke. The standard answer in a brainlessly worded Miss America pageant interview. But seriously, what about peace? What is it? How can we achieve it? Can we spread it?

The Dalai Lama said, "We can never obtain peace in the outer world until we make peace with ourselves." This means, very simply, that peace is a conscious decision, a well thought out process, something that takes work. Think about the last horrible experience you had - maybe it was a negative event at work, a breakup, someone cutting you off in traffic, something nasty yelled at you from a passerby. At that moment, you and you alone have the power to make the buck stop there. The ball has been thrown at you - do you catch it, hold onto it, throw it at someone else? Or do you catch it, stifle it, deflate it, deflect?

Human energy follows the same laws of thermodynamics - that matter and energy can neither be created nor destroyed. Ninety percent of our attitudes during the day are reactions to things that are happening - I don't want to go to work, I'm in a fight with my significant other, I failed that test, she doesn't like me, I have to shovel the driveway. The choice to focus on the negative is somewhat instinctual, something of a fight or flight response, in the hopes of staving off potentially harmful situations. But we can be above neanderthals - most of us don't live in caves, and have access to calming remedies such as hot tea, a good book, gentle people, a yoga class, moving music.

Solving negative things that happen during the day with additional negativity is just feeding the disgusting green monster that will do nothing but grow as long as it is fed. You make the choice to discontinue feeding the monster. You alone hold the power and can make the decision to shift your focus, fight for your own inner peace. If we can make peace with ourselves, conduct ourselves in a manner that's respectful to others, not walking away from difficult situations but welcoming them as hurdles to jump over, obstacles that will ultimately act as tools that enhance our growth as human beings - we have already begun achieving world peace.

You cannot control another's actions, reactions, or choices with regard to peace. But you can control your own. You can choose peace - and not in an apathetic way - don't use "achieving peace" as an excuse to sit on the couch, to disregard the plight of others or to not become an agent of change in your own right. Choosing peace is an active thought process, and oftentimes it doesn't come easy. It's easier (and temporarily more fulfilling) to slash somebody's tires, write a hateful message, disregard someone's feelings - but you're really just giving the green monster a ride on your back.

Dr. Martin Luther King Junior said it eloquently:

Are we seeking power for power’s sake? Or are we seeking to make the world and our nation better places to live? If we seek the latter, violence can never provide the answer. The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. Through violence you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth. Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate. So it goes. Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

So become an agent of peace. Begin the process inside, make the decision every day to live peacefully. Watch your tongue, watch your actions, watch your tone, watch your body language. Be the eye in the storm that people are drawn to - creating a safe haven for yourself and others. Breathe peace in and breathe peace out. Your power of choice can be the power of peace - white light burning bright.

El Fin Del Mundo

The world is going to end on December 21, 2012. That means you've got less than a year left to catch up on all of episodes ever produced of The Office, win Nathanial's Hot Dog eating contest on Coney Island, chug a gallon of milk without puking, and accomplish any other lifetime goals that you've been putting off.

Jest aside, let's get super dreary and pretend the world really is going to end as 2012 wanes. What would you do with every day of the countdown? Would you genuflect on bended knee, trembling in fear that black horses will sweep you away Book-of-Revelations style? Would you throw caution to the wind - rules and civility be damned - indulging in every sin imaginable enough to earn your seat in every circle of Dante's Inferno?

Or - would you live your life like you've always wanted to live it? No excuses, no holding back - because you've only got a year.

If you ever look around in admiration at things people have done - changed their career completely, taken up an instrument at an old age, read Ulysses, traveled to a foreign land, written a book, moved someplace new and strange, eaten a guinea pig, danced in front of a crowd, made their bed every day - and thought to yourself, "I could never do those things" - you must understand that the only person who told you that you cannot is yourself.

You are your best friend and your biggest doubter - ultimately the fault or praise goes to you when you decide to do something (or not to do it). Yes, it's helpful to have encouragement from others and to find approval and solace outwardly. But within you and only you lies the power to decide when and where you go. Or stay.

If you say that you can't hike that mountain because you're too out of shape, you told yourself you can't do it. If you say that you don't have the gumption to move to San Francisco because you don't know a soul, you made the excuse. If you change your eating habits and lose 10 pounds, you made the lifestyle changes to do so. If you obtain two degrees in four years, you set the tone of discipline and sacrifice to make it happen.

Pretending the world is ending in 2012 isn't such a bad way to live your life. It's time to take responsibility for your accomplishments, your downfalls, your goals, and to stop making excuses or pointing fingers as to why you've never done the mind-blowing shit on your bucket list. Want to throw yourself out of a plane high above the Rocky Mountains in a free fall sky dive? DO IT. Want to read one book every month? DO IT. Want hike the Appalachian Trail in 2 years? Start getting in shape, buying maps, making plans, saving the dough and MAKE IT HAPPEN. Find a way or find an excuse.

But - I need a year to think about it, but I need to make sure that I've got the money, but I've got a car payment, but I'm fat, but I'm scared, but I don't know anything about that, but I've never done it. Friends, that's the thrill of it. That edge of the comfort zone, that unknown abyss below the false safety of the cold cliff - it's a honeycomb of the sweetest adventure you've ever tasted. It's the womb, the fountain of youth, the crazy colorful place you end up when the "carpe diem" whisper in your head becomes a scream. If you save a little, plan a little, dream a lot, think it through, learn the language, buy the ticket, take the ride, you can and you will succeed just by the very fact that you have attempted. The alternative is an accumulation of "buts;" there are a million excuses but only one today. Only one 2012, only one lifetime where we have this glorious body that can take us to the incredible heights that we want to reach. And if you fail, if you fall, if the bakery you've dreamed of starting ends up burning down or it turns out you can't make pie crust worth a damn and preservative-ridden Little Debbie puts you to shame - at least you tried. You can look back, head held high, arms folded, flour on your cheeks, knowing what was instead of what could have been.

What is it for you? It doesn't have to be big - those so called little things are just as important as the big - learning to knit, making a good cup of coffee, this year I just want to put the dishes in the dishwasher after breakfast every morning. Yes, there is a time for peace, a time for meditation, and accomplishing every goal thoroughly and beautifully - with the pace of a lacemaker - is part of the art of lovely living - not to rush through your goals only in order to cross them off. But there are many catalysts for this lifestyle - it's what your couch and cable TV are for - so I'd like to be the voice to kick start your 2012 by saying, take the training wheels off somewhere. Board the train to the middle of nowhere Nebraska in hot pursuit of finding the world's biggest ball of twine. Understand the gravity that ultimately you are the one who is responsible for your choices, your life, your timeline, your story. You've got the pen - what will you write this year?

El Fin Del Mundo - what a beautiful way to say it's the end of the world. How will you set it on fire before it all comes crashing down? You've got 337 days. The clock is ticking.

Christmas is a Time for Childlike Joy

I love Christmas. Digging out dusty ornaments; my favorite are the ones with worn paint and fading letters - "Baby's First Christmas" - but I like the new ones, too. I love putting together the little town of houses my Dad has collected over the years - should we put the dentistry next to the school house this year? Where does the train go through the town?

I love the scratchy sound the old Elvis Christmas record makes when we decorate the tree as a family. I only like real Christmas trees. I crave spiked cider. I know every word to It's A Wonderful Life and can recite with perfection what each day of Christmas goes with what - who wouldn't want seven maids a milking?

Christmas is a time for the child in us. The child that couldn't sleep on Christmas Eve, wiggling in footed pajamas in anxious anticipation. The child that knew, just knew that Santa was real (still knows!) and refuted every bully's taunts and supposed proof of the opposite. The child that heard the bells, heard the hooves on the rooftop, set traps to catch jolly Old St. Nick - that childlike innocence that becomes fuzzier with each passing year.

Yes, it gets harder to decorate and celebrate as we gain experience, bills, wrinkles. Getting a real Christmas tree just takes so much time, it's so expensive, who's going to clean the needles, we have to water it, I'm not even going to be here at Christmas. That music is driving me nuts. I'm not even religious and I just hate the holidays.

You don't have to be religious. You don't have to want an ipad or want anything at all, really. You just need a little spark of that childlike wonder in your heart, the big brown eyes of your former five year old self that once believed, once loved getting the decorations out of the box, the one who wrote letters to the North Pole and argued over who had the best Christmas tree in town. The one who was the Angel in the school Christmas play, the one who baked the softest sugar cookies in the shape of reindeer with Grandma. The one who came home from school with a belly ache and candy cane breath after the class Christmas party.

If you think decorating is too much work, if you're not into "that stuff" - I say Bah Humbug to you, you Grinch, you Scrooge, you Frank Cross! Even if you don't get a tree, light a menora, watch "Charlie Brown's Christmas" and argue with your friends over which character you are, it's never too late to start. Remember the childlike joy that Christmas once brought you. That joy and innocence is still there, you just have to find it and work a little harder at it. So deck the halls, stand under the mistletoe, make snow angels and string popcorn. 'Tis the season.

“What reason have you to be merry? You’re poor enough”, says Ebenezer Scrooge to his nephew. “What reason have you to be morose, uncle? You’re rich enough." "Merry Christmas!" said Scrooge, "Out upon merry Christmas! What's Christmas time to you but a time for paying bills without money; a time for finding yourself a year older, but not an hour richer; a time for balancing your books... if I could work my will," said Scrooge indignantly, "every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should! Much good may it do you! Much good it has ever done you!"

"There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say," returned the nephew. "Christmas among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round -- as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!"

It's the Little Things

There's something about my daily requirement of coffee that's enjoyable on a level not shared with many other pleasures. It could be watching the dabble of cream fighting it's way against the black currents of liquid, or just the warmth between my hands, or - ahhhhh - that unmistakable smell, or the thought of the journey the beans made from the Colombian jungle to my mug.

Regardless, it's a simple thing, a simple thought.

There are other joys of the simple life - like the way the leaves crunch under your boots, the first time you put them on in October, or the way that particular song commands your hips to sway, or the drawings you find on your windshield when everything fogs over suddenly in your car. Then there's the smell in between the bindings of an old book, the sharp/soft combination of blades of grass - so sharp alone and so soft together, the unmistakable thigh burn after a run, the red-rosed cheeks that no blush could ever parallel, that color that only comes from walking briskly in the chilly air. The sensory appeal of slash-and-burn fields aflame - bright lights, delicious smoky scent.

A tender touch on a tender spot, maybe it's your neck, or your shoulder, or an intimate squeeze of a hip bone in the middle of a concert, or a hand rub complete with a good finger pull, a knowing look, an empathetic focus, the intently-listening-lean-forward action during the most boring story you've ever recited.

Spiral bound notebooks with limitless potential. Used book carts on sidewalks advertising someone else's former treasures for just a buck. Licking cake batter - raw egg warnings be damned. Lazy winter sunlight (of the 4:00 pm variety) filtering through a soft, cream colored curtain. The funny way tree bark sometimes smells like butterscotch. The eerily comforting echo of trains in the middle of the cold, dark night. The sight of a girl in a flowing skirt on the first day spring breaks free from winter - bare toes, all legs, on a bicycle with a basket.

Enjoy the simple things these coming months - you won't find this simple joy shivering in your vehicle at 4am on Black Friday waiting in anticipation for the doors of Wal-Mart to burst open. You won't find it tucked in the seats of a brand new BMW. You won't find it on a sparkly white yacht. Those little things, the ones you can hold in your pocket and carry around with you like a lucky penny - present themselves in unlikely places and require patience and careful observation. They won't be wrapped in bows or cost much.

El amor de la vida sencilla - love the simple life - today, tomorrow, always.

The Art of Letting Go

A few months ago, a guy asked me out. I don't really date - but decided to give it a shot. Worst case scenario, I'd get some sweet potato fries and a 90 Shilling Lager out of the deal. The date came, and the date went, and it was surprisingly good. He seemed to do everything right, we had laughs, ice cream, all the cringe-worthy gooey-eyed junk of Rom Coms, and then - poof - he became the dreaded Denver douche - the 20 something that is "too busy" for a relationship. The conflicted, confused child that all of the actual bonafide women (not girls) in the dating pool hate - the one that leads us on and acts like they want to be our boyfriend, and even though we haven't even decided if that's what we want, backs off before it flourishes into a real relationship.

Ugh.

Yep - I was pissed. I created a cloud of obscenities over the Highland Tap House over brews with my girlfriends that is probably still hanging in space (yes I stole that from A Christmas Story.) How had I been duped? That son-of-a....where is my tire slashing IKEA knife?!? That good. FOR. NOTHING. ASSHOLE!

AND THEN! THEN! I hauled my ass to the nearest yoga studio - rolled out my crusty mat, got into downward facing dog, breathed in through my nose, and exhaled a deep, goose bump inducing breath - and let it all go. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh lion's breath. Gone.

Well, maybe not quite, but I was on the way. I also did super shitty on a stats test that week. And I got a massive bill from the Urgent Care team regarding my finger that, in the end, is going to fall off anyway. But I have to let it go, because like the black tissue on my finger, holding onto something ugly that has passed just leaves you with a rancid looking scab.

There is a beauty in letting go. It's hard - because for those of us who are passionate, it can feel like the ugly stepsister to Giving Up. But letting go is not giving up. Letting go is the opposite of resistance. Where resistance exists, pain exists. Sometimes resistance is good, it's beneficial. But if it's ship that's already sailed - a romantic relationship that has seen it's time, a bad test score, a horrible day, an astronomically high parking ticket, a terrible comment a co worker made - holding onto that is just going to create a Grinchy tension in your body, and that just doesn't feel good. And I'm not talking about the type of "letting go" that involves a secret stash of whatever the problem is in your pocket just in case. I mean releasing that shit.

Let it go. All of it, whatever it is. People aren't going to walk all over you; you've taken control. Control of your thoughts, of the mind, of the heart, of (in my case) that passion that can easily turn into a forest fire if ignited. Let it go and make room for something more wholesome and nurturing. A white knuckled roller coaster ride is no way to glide through life.

Breathe in, breathe out, let it go.

My Halloween Costume is Skankier Than Yours

It's that time of year ladies - time to pull out the fishnets, the fake lashes, the bodices so tight that your aerolas are playing hide and go seek - all with the glorious knowledge that Nobody. Can. Judge. Me. Why? Because it's Halloween, that's why! Duh.

I'm excited to, once again, compare and contrast what the men will be wearing. It'll be scary, or funny, or clever, or most likely, a sign of some haphazard shit they threw together last minute. Because they don't care, and because they don't feel like they have to.

You see, a man would never spend $65 on a sexy bumblebee costume, just like a man would never wax every pubic hair from waist to tail bone, or spray tan before a wedding. He's not going to stress out about waxing his eyebrows before that first date, or hope to God that you don't see him without mascara and foundation for at least the first few months of dating. So why do women care?

Because the TV shows and ads and massive make up aisles and blah di dah tell us to. We all know this. And yes, it's great being a liberated woman in 2011 in the good ole' USofA - no mandatory burkas around these parts - but use this freedom wisely. As a woman, you can get yourself educated, start a business, own property, do stand up comedy, become a professor, and yes, still are the only one that can give birth. That's a lot of power. Don't waste it catering to visual primal needs - you're so much better than that. And Halloween is a pathetic excuse to bring us back to the cave man days, drunken chest beating and all.

I challenge you to squeeze your powerful womanhood into something sexy, yes, of course! But also something classy, something creative, something not sewn together by some poor shoeless child in Bangladesh. If you're thinking of going as a sexy cliche - Dorothy, Cop, Robber, Cavewoman, Maid - you could at least take it a step further and be something sexy that's funny, think sexy garbage woman, or sexy Cookie Monster. This time of year is also about childlike joy, celebrating spooky creepy dead things, and getting creative. Let your sexiness show by your witty costume idea - and keep this rolling throughout the rest of the year. Remember that the dudes you attract by your slut-o-rific Halloween outfit are the dudes you think you deserve. And the bar is low for puke-on-yourself fratter.

Remember: men don't need fuller, longer lashes. They don't (usually) Nair their bodies, burn themselves with irons attempting to get perfect hair, wear shoes that cause their feet to swell up and result in you carrying all their shit (can you imagine a dude asking you to carry you or hold you shoes because his feet hurt?) Rock your fine self, but do so sans the date-me-I-am-desperate look. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to get back to work on my large intestine costume...