Notes

One koan:
 
        A student said to the master, "I seek enlightenment, but I do not understand

        your teaching."
 
        The master replied, "But enlightenment is not understanding."
 
        The master has stated the obvious, but the student has failed to see it.
 
 
Another koan:
 
        A student said to the master, "I seek enlightenment, and I do not understand

        your teaching."
 
        The master replied, "And enlightenment is not understanding."
 
        The master has stated the obvious, and the student has failed to see it.
 
 
It is possible to make false statements in English. English is inconsistent. If we were, by fiat, to disallow false statements, English would be incomplete. And what about "This sentence is false."? Is it true, or is it false? If no false statements are allowed, then is it a legal English sentence?
 
Gödel's famous and devastating assault on fortress Principia Mathmatica forever changed the rules of thought, in ways that are still being realized. If mathematics is the modeling language of the universe, there are some consequences. Perhaps mathematics, because it is either inconsistent or incomplete, is inadequate to the task. Or perhaps it is up to the task and the universe is inconsistent or incomplete. Maybe we shouldn't exclude the middle.
 
When we get close to the edges, or deep in the center, of a rational universe, things get very fuzzy. This is not simply the "It's a wave!"; "No, it's a particle!"; "It's a floor wax and a dessert topping!" mystery. It's something deeply flawed in our understanding.
 
Enlightenment does not come easily to the rational person.

We bought a small motorhome in 2006. It is a 1995 Provan Tiger CX (see http://www.tigermotorhomes.com/home.htm for more about new ones). We bought it used, in Sanger, TX, from I-35 RV Center. From their website  at http://www.i-35rvcenter.com it seems they have moved to Denton, TX, not far from Sanger.

Here's a picture of our Tiger in Kingman, AZ, on the trip home from Texas -- you can see the Texas license plates. The sky is dark with smoke from wildfires in southern California.

Since then, I've made some changes. It now has California plates, and I had it repainted. You can't tell from the picture, but the decals were chipping and peeling in some places. Now, the vehicle is all white. I haven't decided how to decorate it yet, but we'll probably go with a Native American theme, to coördinate with the interior.
 
Inside, I made several changes. One of the first things I did was to remove the bathroom door and replace it with a curtain. With the curtain open, I can see out the full width of the rear window.

Here's the curtain, open:

You can also see the new window curtains we made. The original curtains were getting worn out, so we replaced them. I measured and mi esposa sewed. I think the large rick-rack on the valences is a nice touch.
 
The next project was replacing the ceiling. The original ceiling liner was a vinyl print, like that on the bathroom wall in the picture above. It was shrinking and wrinkling at the edge of each panel. I ordered automotive headliner material on-line and installed it myself. I finished the edges and seams with oak trim, to match the cabinetry. Here's a picture of the over-cab bed; you can see the new ceiling:

That's a WaveBox 12v/120v microwave oven on the countertop, to the left.

Here's the ceiling in the rear of the coach:

In the picture above, you can see the bathroom curtain closed. We looked for a curtain that would go with the decor and found this one on-line.
 
This is the "living room". There is a table (stowed in the closet) that sets up in front of the sofa to convert it into the "dining room". With the table stowed, the sofa folds out to turn this space into the downstairs "bedroom".

The dreamcatchers in the window were a "housewarming" gift from one of my sisters. The rear cushion removes, for an unobstructed rear view. That thing near the top of the rear window is a rear-view camera. It has not proved especially useful.
 
Here's the kitchen:

Actually, we don't use the range much -- boiling water for instant soup or coffee is about it. The microwave is new, and we have not used it "for real" yet. The refrigerator is a typical three-way (gas, 12v, 120v) RV appliance. It works pretty well.
 
This is a grab bar I put in. It makes entry a lot easier:

And over the door, I installed another grab bar. This one makes exit easier, and helps prevent me from bumping my head into the top of the door frame.

It's a fun little motorhome. I take it to Highland Games events in Pleasanton, CA and Woodland, CA, and to harp retreats in Bonny Doon, CA and Pescadero, CA. We've taken it on trips to Arizona and to northern CA. My sons have taken it to Chico, CA and San Bernadino, CA. It's a good size for two, but would be crowded for more than that.

Here's a chunk of rock with birds on it.

Mi esposa and I stayed in Pacific Grove last weekend. Pacific Grove was founded as a Methodist retreat center. But long before that, it was a chunk of granite, torn from the sierra batholith and dragged northward by the San Andreas fault.
 
We spent part of a day touring the area, including the coast. There are many places to pull off the road and walk out on a small beach or rocky point. We saw lots of birds, and otters floating almost up to the shore. We visited the butterfly sanctuary and saw Monarch butterflies. Here's a picture of a rare Russet-Winged Georgian Blue:

I returned home on Sunday; Blue stayed and worked on her novel, and returned home today.

"This grape juice has gone bad." Tom whined.
"Summer's here." Tom added.
"It's a commercial for a baseball glove." Tom admitted.
"Cork it!" Tom barked.
"I'll have the pancakes -- no, I'll have the french toast." Tom waffled.
"Just feel the velvety leather." Tom persuaded.
"The truth is out there." Tom exclaimed.
"Sure, I can jump off that cliff." Tom bluffed.
"We're not in Kansas any more." Tom explained.
"Milk." Tom uttered.
"If you like, I'll kill her." Tom offered.
"Seize the day." Tom carped.
"Is it because you invited me?" Tom guessed.
"Ted's not here." Tom noted.
"Tom, not Ed." Tom noted.
"The coyotes got another calf." Tom revealed.
"I'm as happy as a chupacabra on Capri." Tom kidded.
"I hate zippers." Tom snapped.
"All we've seen are quail." Tom groused.
"star-sixty-nine." Tom recalled.
"The scientist used radiocarbon on the Olduvai australopithecus." Tom elucidated.
"Only one buttock?" Tom half-asked.
"Left or right." Tom sighed.
"If x*x - 8*x is zero, then x is zero." Tom orated.
"...and I'm getting paid for it." Tom proclaimed.

God plays upon the harp of the Spirit,
Sounding the strings strongest in love:
And to this mystical music
Humanity is beckoned to sing.
-- Saint Mechthild (1240-1298)
 
I know people for whom Christmas has no more meaning than Arbor Day, who look upon my observance of the season with an attitude of bemused condescension that I would embrace such superstitious traditions. These people, who otherwise exhibit the outward appearance of intelligence, are confident that they bear no such delusions.
 
Ah, but such is the very essence of delusion that there is no reflexive form. There is no mirror that shows us anything but what we will see.
 
The meaning of music, according to one theory, is that it is the over-response of the human brain to the kind of information borne in the tonality and rhythm of human speech. According to this theory, music is speech, distilled to a high proof, with which we saturate our brains for the sheer pleasure of it. Poetry, especially metrical poetry, is similar, and when the two perform pas de deux, in song, the superstimulus can be very emotive.
 
It is sometimes possible for me to momentarily stretch my bonds and catch a glimpse of greater things. This tantalizing flash of the light reflected from the edge of heaven is enough for me to know that the universe that confines me is infinitesimal and impermanent.
 
The pedestrian explanation that music exists as a by-product of the human proclivity for speech only serves to increase my awe with the wonder of the physical world.
 
All nature sings and 'round me rings the music of the spheres.
-- Maltbie D. Babcock (1858-1901)
 
For such are we, and such is the world, that it, too, sings to us. Either we impose upon this world our own melodies, or it upon us, it does not matter which. Even to those for whom ancient superstitious traditions are ridiculous is the music of the spheres perceptible. They, like I, wish Peace on Earth.
 
For God the Father Almighty plays upon the harp of stupendous magnitude and melody.
For innumerable angels fly out at every touch and His tune is a work of creation.
For at that time malignity ceases and the devils themselves are at peace.
For this time is perceptible to man by a remarkable stillness and serenity of soul.
...
Hallelujah from the heart of God,
And from the hand of the Artist Inimitable,
And from the echo of the heavenly harp, in sweetness magnifical and mighty!
-- Christopher Smart (1722-1771)

I played clarsach for the prelude of our seven o'clock Christmas eve service. No one heard it. It was poorly mic'd; even though I have a quarter-inch instrument connection, a connecting cable could not be located, so a microphone was placed sort of near me. It didn't work, plus the sanctuary was filled with families with children, all talking. I may as well have mimed the motions. I could not even hear myself. This Sunday, I'll play prelude and postlude. I'll bring my own cable, just in case, and there should be a lot less noise.
 
I sang in the choir for the eleven o'clock service. It was a traditional service comprising the nine lessons and carols, with a brief homily. The message was about light, based upon the obvious metaphor. The point was that light conquers darkness, and that darkness cannot conquer light. There is nothing like an anti-candle, that can radiate darkness the way that a candle radiates light.
 
That's as may be, but noise can effectively extinguish music.

Here is my arrangement of "Silent Night" by Franz Grüber. The recording is of our church choir at the rehearsal for our Christmas program in 2007, and was made on a hand-held digital recorder.

I saw a beautiful sunset as I drove home from work, one day a couple of weeks ago. It was pink and orange, clouds lit from the underside. As the sun set below the mountains in the west, the rays made a fan. It made me feel good.
 
There were some squirrels chasing around in my front yard a couple of days ago. One would chase the other around the Chinese pistachio tree, and then they'd trade chaser for chasee. It looked like they were having fun.
 
For I will consider my cat, Izzy. For she is a creature of the living God, duly and daily serving Him. (That's adapted from "Rejoice in the Lamb" by Christopher Smart.) She has a blast playing with cotton swabs. It sure looks like she's enjoying herself.
 
Oh, I suppose that someone can explain things like these as somehow adaptive, that there is some way that these improve the evolutionary fitness of my cat, those squirrels, and me. But they cannot really explain the joy, the qualia, my feelings and and those I infer from the behavior of the squirrels and my cat.
 
Why is there so much pain and suffering in the world? Philosophers and theologians have wrestled with this for centuries. We cry out to God, if we have even the most tenuous belief in Him, whenever we hurt. Surely, joy is as much a problem.
 
I hope you had a nice Thanksgiving.

The sermon today was about prayer: how to pray; what to pray for; how to
expect a response, and so on. It was timely in my life -- I have
never been a consistent pray-er. For one thing, my rational side has
a hard time with several aspects of praying. How can it work? Can I
affect what God does?

The layoffs hit a week ago Wednesday. They were not completely
unexpected; an industry pundit in EE Times had speculated that there
would be a 10% to 25% cut before the end of the year. The actual cut
was 12%. In my department, several long-time employees were laid off.

I had been worried about this for several weeks, and I feared that my
job was on the line. I had shared this concern with some friends, and
they were praying for me. I had been praying for the economy in
general for a couple of months, and more recently, for my own concerns,
too.

The Tuesday before the layoffs hit, I got an accidental early warning
that they would happen the next day. I was working late, and spoke
with my supervisor's boss about an unrelated issue I was working on,
and I mentioned that the layoffs would be tomorrow. He was surprised
that I knew that, but told me that I did not need to worry about it.
However, I believe that he might have said that in any case.

Anyway, Wednesday came and went, and I'm still employed. The
communications from company management is that they believe that we
are now prepared to weather the current economic conditions. Of
course, they have no crystal ball; things could go worse or better
than anticipated.

So now my prayers contain intercessory bids for my friends who lost
their jobs, gratitude for keeping mine, and continued requests for
improvement in the national and global economy.

But what does it take for me to believe in the effectiveness of
prayer? What would be enough?

1. You seem upset; are you feeling all right?
2. What's for dinner?
3. Why don't we have any pencils with points on them?
4. Did you buy shampoo?
5. Would you change the litter box, please?
6. Can I have some money?
7. Would you put gas in my car?
8. Is it all right if I take the train to Florida and stay for four weeks?
9. Did you call your mother?
10. What?