The sciences are the closest thing to any kind of religion for me, serving in the sense of re-linking (Latin re-ligio, restoring a connection) to a much larger and far more important whole, as far as those concepts can point. Don't think science dry, though. For me, even though I'm only marginally versed in any of them, and for many of my friends, appreciation of science comes with a great deal of love, and of awe, and of spirit.

That feeling, as most everything on this website, is part of what I might translate "religion," although to me, the "R" word is way too sleepy-sounding. And it has too narrow a flavor.

I don't attend a recognizable church.

(I was tickled to read recently in Edmund S. Morgan's enjoyable biography of Ben Franklin, that Franklin loved fresh air so much, no matter its temperature, he would argue with friends over leaving the window open in the room while they slept!)

(Pardon all the parenthetical digressions, but here's another one.)

The above paragraph cites a story, continued below, from when we lived aboard our sailboat Almitra at Santa Catalina Island. It serves to remind me how our attention can sometimes need to be turned in an entirely new direction on short notice. I feel we are in such a position right now; that it is imperative we examine our role among all the inhabitants of our little planet. If the freight train is heading off in the wrong direction it's course must be altered.

Back to church. The slab allowed me to tap into the naturally cool earth below, by putting terra-cotta tiles (Saltillos) directly into the grounded masonry (the result feels great to the bare feet in summer). I added a big sliding-glass door and three swinging doors, and replaced all the windows. Now the stout stucco structure opens up to the natural canyon environment and welcomes it in. Some of the sunlight in the back yard generates the electricity we use here.

How does this qualify as a place of worship? It doesn't; I don't worship. Any deity that I could ever possibly fall in love with would have to be an occurrence of nature, a natural being /-ness that enlivens everyone and everything unconditionally. Stuff invented in human minds and churches isn't going to cut it for me. I love nature as much as Bhakti loves Ishvara, dearly realizing and amazing that she is a part of the existence of all. I love to connect directly, deliberately, in my own tiny way, to the whole: the powerful Sun, the cool Earth; the planets splayed out across the ecliptic; the frequent periods of stillness. The cottage in the canyon is my own humble attempt to express at times, by living, my appreciation and love for where, and how, life exists in the universe. The simple, direct systems for ventilation and cooling, for generating power, for bathing and sleeping, for preparing food and compost, for trying (or at least wishing) not to take too much more than giving; for encouraging some growth in the gardens; all "just so": Welcome!

It's not that I don't believe in Jesus...

Nor did Prince Siddhartha ever intend to be adored, but instead to be to be understood. Some of his eventual teachings as Gautama, by the way, seem to have enjoyed pretty good preservation over the millennia, when compared with some western dogmas that have unfortunately been twisted past their breaking points. In that process of being manipulated and handed across the Dark Ages' most violent conquests, subtle and effective analogies and parables have been missed -- converted to cannon -- at best reminiscent of how a dog might lick the finger that points the way, instead of looking and going where its master points.

Humans have enormous potential for growth and refinement, and for apprehending the highest qualities or states mentioned in any of the religions. And I perceive many religions holding people down, denying beings their true dignity, for reasons of institutional bureaucracy and

Sit up and shut down.

control, for the ease of mind obtained when answers are clear and strongly held, for the comfort that obviates any need for questioning basic assumptions, or for recognizing, much less taking, full responsibility for one's actions and inactions. Or electing one's political leaders.

I imagine each of us born as with doors, and we fail to open them all, but for the kitchen door; and born with windows, which we all too often lock shut, decorate inside with draperies, and prefer not to look through. I love the Hopi notion that we all have little doors on the top of our heads. Is mine open or is it closed? I think we humans spend too much time creating noise, too, whether in some church or otherwise purporting to make spiritual inquiry. Mental noise. Praying and begging for this or that. Praising and worshiping. So much is based on imagination and narrow personal desires. What if instead we shut up and spend time observing reality at its gross levels, and at its subtlest levels as well? Much to be learned, and perspective to be realized?

Some of my favorite sayings come fresh and clean from Stephen Mitchell's "The Gospel According to Jesus" (Harper Collins, 1991). I love this scholarly attempt of Mitchell's to winnow out some original words and intent from biblical documents and other ancient sources. What do you make of these quotes?

I do relish the peacefulness of the Buddhists, I love Joseph Campbell's perspective on myths and religion(s), and I especially like the way J. Krishnamurti shed his highly respectable traditions simply because they were traditions. I spend time astounded by the simple fact that existence exists. I like the Sufi notion, or parable, I guess, of living as if The Master might be among visitors to one's household one day.

Alan Watts' easy, often humorous talks were enjoyable to hear, and enlightening. I'd love to get up early and make a hot cup of green tea in the condominium before listening to him on Pacifica radio, up through 1973 when he died. He spoke in front of a small audience aboard a ferry boat moored at Sausalito, where he made his home. He was competent on many topics, and spoke from an obvious inner realization. His tapes are still available from his family in Olema.

Nor do I believe any one religion is better by nature for humans in general than any other. In my humble opinion, we seriously need to step back and recognize that each one of them, of course, developed a language and a system of its own, appropriate for a small local region in the distant past, before the world "woke up" to global communication. Now that we suddenly have instant touch all around this little planet, many of the religions' tenets appear to be in conflict. Some adherents actually fight one another to the death! Can you imagine that? What would each of their respective founders have to say about this condition?

Nope. I don't adhere to any of the religions. Above all, not the ones you can tune into on TV. So many religions, if not all, seem to require suspending disbelief like one does in order to enjoy a good science fiction novel... but in a way more "seriously" undertaken: "No, let's really, really suspend our disbelief!" (It seems this easy willingness to suspend disbelief has conveniently enabled the emergence of our current "faith-based" political leadership as well.) Better, I say, to strive for the truth no matter what comfortable, profitable, beliefs you may have to abandon.

I'm not Catholic any more, of course, either. Humans were meant to live in guilt-free joy and peace all year long, every year. Isn't it way past time for us to begin to think about actually controlling the size of the human population? The ol' Catholic nuns made my father learn to write with his right hand, because to permit him to develop his natural left-handed orientation was a Big Sin. Hell, they wanted to make me straight, 'cause they can't "permit" the natural occurrence (with about the same incidence as for human lefties) of same-gender affectional orientation. Sheesh.

Some things are really important, though, like ensuring personal freedom to make inquiry into matters of the spirit, rather than the travesty of being forced by some government, or some majority, to follow some version of someone's dogma.

Probably more important, though, is to make sure we can preserve the planet's very ability to sustain diverse life, and human life in peace, for all the next generations. We really are part of a small, closed physical system, much like living aboard a ship that sustains us, and we must take considered action to guide and protect it. If we fail to, we humans (read: our children and theirs) suffer pretty severe natural consequences for a long time. That's what all the religions should be harping on loudly in my opinion, especially if they really believe it was all personally created by some big, very very big, ruler in the sky who also happens to be watching them! But, really: how can religious "conservatives" reconcile in their own minds, such a vehement battle against conservation? That in itself speaks clearly about the "reality" of what we "really" believe. "Make" believe!

And by the way, my country's government shall not tax its citizens to pay the church. Any church. It's bad enough to pledge allegiance to a nation under Vishnu. Or which deity is it? "Allah"? or is it "Shiva"? I forget. How can a secular government officially care, anyway? How can its Supreme Court (at least five of the nine Justices), permit our tax money to go to the Catholic Church (which runs up expenses paying those court-ordered settlements for pest-priest fiddlings), and lots of other churches? George W. Bush's "Faith-based" programs are not what a modern government should be doing. The ACLU and GreenPeace have some of the right ideas here.

Am I digressing from "religion"?