Category Archives: Science

AI, GeekWorld, Science

Bots and Meatsacks

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Spring and the Trial Moon

Monday gratefuls:  A quiet stomach. Shadow in the whole yard. Dog treats. Rigel. Hilo. Gabe in L.A. Ruth getting ready for finals.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Healing

 

Kavannah: Netzach. Perseverance. Trial begins on Wednesday. I need netzach as I enter this latest round of treatment.

Tarot: paused

One brief shining: Saw in the NYT this am. Lightning wins half marathon. Time: 50:26. Just under seven minutes faster than the record set last month. By a human. Lightning fell near the finish line. Helped up by human bystanders.

Looking for something non-health related to write about today. The story about Lightning’s record time in a Beijing half-marathon. Yes, please.

300 robots ran alongside human marathoners-separated by metal fencing-but close enough to shake hands over the barrier.

What’s the real comparison? Not robotic marathoner vs human champion. Perhaps a whole human against machines made to mimic a particular human skill.

John Henry. The pile driving man. Remember him? A black worker tasked with drilling holes for dynamite. The legend pits John Henry against a steam-engine driven pile driver. John Henry wins, but dies from the strain. Wish he’d had helping hands like Lightning did.

Got me thinking. How might Jacob Kiplimo, the Ugandan whose time of 57 minutes and 20 seconds set the human record, fare against Lightning? Sure, seven minutes is a big gap, but Kiplimo might run even faster against the robot.

How will we measure flesh and blood against machines built for one task: pile-driving, marathon running. Lightning is purpose built to run marathons. He’s a one-trick robot like the steam-powered pile-driver. But their one-trick is pretty damned good.

A.I. measures its capacity against humans. This one’s as smart as a grad student. This one might win the Fields Medal. Besides. Which grad student.

If the artificial general intelligence, AGI, claim is ever made, it will be judged against human efforts, too. I remember the Go match between Korean 9-dan master, Lee Sidol, and AlphaGo. I watched all the matches.

Often, as AlphaGo moved, a commentator would add: “That’s a move no human would ever make.”

We humans operate in an odd dynamic here. We build machines to pound steel-drills into rock. To play go. Then, we pit our best, think Gary Kasparov, against the machine. When we humans go down in ignominious defeat, a small chunk of our uniqueness seems to vanish. Vanquished.

What will happen to our humanity when our final capacity has been defeated?

Not much, I imagine. So far Lightning can for sure run a fast marathon race. Probably faster than any human can dream of doing.

However. When the human marathoner crosses the finish line, they’ll return to family and friends. To work. When Lightning finishes, they will be loaded into a truck and driven back to the factory. No marathon, no purpose. Back to the shed for repurposing,

The point. Humans already have general intelligence and we have it already loaded into a body that can run marathons. Drive steel drills. Also, our sensory detectors are much further advanced than the most sophisticated machines. We blend all this effortlessly.

We are the complete package. Parts of our capacities appeal to researchers. So we get a.i. Or Lightning. But putting all those together in a unified working whole. Humans. Only humans. In that we stand alone.

Commentary on the news, Science, US History

To the Moon and Back

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Spring and the Moon of Liberation

Shabbat andThursday and Friday gratefuls: 25th amendment. All the wars. All the diplomats. All those who desire peace. Dr. Josy. Audrey. Tom and Jessie. Mary and Mark. Joe and Gabe

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: zoom

 

Tarot: paused

One brief shining: Artemis II has reawakened my interest in space flight. Black and white image, rabbit antenna, gathered around the electronic hearth. The Apollo program began in 1961, the year I entered high school and ran until 1972. Three years after I graduated from college.

 

Artemis II, an hour ago, sped through space 150,000 miles from home. Don’t know about you but visions of Neil Armstrong dance in my head. The peril of Apollo 13. The first and last men on the moon. We stopped for 53 years. Politics.

As a boy of maybe twelve, or thirteen, my best friend Mike Hines and I stared. Three silver objects moved toward the moon. And went behind it. Wow, we both said, waiting to see if they emerged.

They did.

When we told my Dad, he took notes. Well, he said. An interesting afternoon boys. We all looked at the moon. The Apollo program started the next year. Taking around 24 astronauts behind the moon and back home.

This was the time of UFO’s. Sightings made the newspapers. On the next day after talking to dad: Two Alex Boys Claim UFO’s went behind the moon. Mike and I puffed up. Our names in print!

I name the moons, The Moon of Liberation celebrates Passover. The Moon of Tides came before it. Celebrating Paul and his home on the Atlantic in downeast Maine.

I like the traditional names, too. April can be the full flower moon. The New Spring Moon.

“A Trip to the Moon” by Georges Méllè. I’ve seen it twice. Colorful, quirky I found it captivating. Short.

Joseph wrote a paper, his capstone for his astrophysics degree, on the origin of the moon. He advocated for the giant-impact model. According to him, a Mars sized  proto-planet called Theia hit a still forming earth.  Injecting a massive amount of the young Earth into the sky. Creating our moon.

This a shortie that I wrote on Thursday and Friday.

One more today

 

Colorado, Commentary on the news, Science, US History

Ad astra per aspera

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Spring and the Moon of Liberation

Wednesday gratefuls: Artemis launch. The Moon. Passover. Exodus. Jews. Israel. Palestinians. Iran. U.S.  War. Peace.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe:  Maddie

 

Kavannah: Wonder. Malchut.  Shadow

Tarot: Ten of Stones, Home. Teshuvah. Return to the home of my soul.

One brief shining: Space: The Final Frontier. Captain Pike of the USS Enterprise. Over the last year I started watching Star Trek series and movies. Trying to gain a more complete experience.

I remember that hot July Indiana day. 1969.  Our small black and white television crackled.  Judy and I lay on the bed almost naked. The gravelly voice of Walter Cronkite said, “Oh, boy.” One small step.

Today, perhaps at 6:24 PM EDT, Artemis II will slowly rise, then accelerate, carrying four astronauts on 10 days of wonder. I followed all the lunar landings, up to and including the last one in 1972. I was 26.

Ever since Sputnik. NASA. Doing the thing, not because it is easy, but because it is hard. The Space Race. I was so proud. To be an American. NASA had fulfilled every science intoxicated kid’s dream. Humans break free of Earth. To dance among the stars.

James Webb. Hubble. ISS. Starlink. We did not abandon space when Apollo shut down.

It gives me great joy to see us once again escorting astronauts across the high bridge to their crew cabin. More than three hundred feet above the ground. A tiny human habitat sitting on top of so much power. The courage to sit while controlled explosives push you deeper and deeper into the zero-gravity chair.

The Orion crew cabin came to life at Lockheed Martin’s Littleton, Colorado offices. At Beth Evergreen we have rocket scientists. Helen, a vibration engineer. Her ex. My friend Veronica who worked on the GOES satellites. Space is big business in Colorado.

Florida’s Space Coast. The orange first stage of Artemis already at the launch pad. Except for the fact that I dislike crowds, I’d love to be there. Feel and hear the rumble. Watch Artemis push beyond our sight, into the cold vastness.

On my way to a morning at RMCC I was a passenger. Ruth drove. Just beyond a familiar exit on 470, I looked up and saw Blue Origin. A several story glass façade.

A human launch. NASA in the news. Great billows of fire and smoke. Call up a primary fascination of my childhood. Buck Rogers. Commander Cody: Sky Marshall of the Universe. Primed. Then. Real humans. John Glenn. Neil Armstrong.

When a young boy’s fantasies begin to inhabit real life. Could it get any better? Mercury. Then Apollo. Even my son Joe spent several years dreaming of becoming an astronaut. Part of why he joined the Air Force.

Space flight returned me to a truer definition of home. Do you remember the blue marble photograph? Taken from the 1972 Apollo 17 crew capsule. Earth is my home. Our home. No matter how successful we become in space exploration. That blue marble? Home.

Not the U.S. Not Indiana. Not North America. The whole boundaryless earth. Our home.

Artemis rises.
Leaves the blue marble.
Flies far from home.

 

Cancer, Fourth Phase, Health, Science

In time, leaves brown

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Imbolc and the Moon of Tides

Thursday gratefuls: Alan and his new knee. The Hummingbird. Diane. Alfred North Whitehead. Process metaphysics. Shadow the Coneless.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe:  Kristine

Week Kavannah:   Yetziratiut. Creativity.   Learning novel revision as part of the craft

 

Tarot: Ten of Vessels, Happiness

In the midst of medical turmoil: friends and family, reengaged creative work, Shadow bring fulfillment home.

One brief shining: Radiation ended December 11th, a PET scan on January 28th showed failure of androgen deprivation therapy. No wonder I slipped into I’m not gonna make it mode. Uncertainty. The bane of those of us with chronic, progressive illnesses.

 

Cancer, as my journey typifies, never gives up. Removed my prostate. Came back. Radiation. Recurred. Since then, 2019, it’s here to stay, a hostile partner I must feed.

Within that overall arc there are periods of relative calm. I had six years with androgen deprivation therapy, six years of stable PSAs. Glad I did. Within those years Kate’s illnesses took hold, changing our lives and ending in her death. Jon’s divorce rattled the whole family again and again. His death shattered Ruth and Gabe.

How could I have been present and effective for my loved ones without six years of a cancer detente? Here’s a generous offering of gratitude to the scientists who discovered and perfected androgen deprivation.

If I’m to live fully into the happiness I feel, I’ll need another tranche of medical discoveries. Especially therapies like Pluvicto and Actinium which deliver toxic radioactive energy preferentially to cancer cells. Not the systemic poison of chemotherapy.

How else can I continue ancientrails into its third decade. Revise and market Superior Wolf. See Ruth graduate from college, maybe even medical school.

Folks with manageable terminal illnesses now encounter shuttered laboratories. A defunded NIH.

The practices of physicians like Dr. Bupathi and Dr. Carter deliver to me the fruit of decades of basic science, clinical trials, pharmaceutical advances.

Like turning off irrigation to a field of vegetables, the results will not be immediate. In time, leaves brown, Tomatoes and Beets rot. I’ll probably live long enough to enjoy treatments created in the recent past. Like Actinium.

The next generation of prostate cancer patients may not. Joseph? Mark?

I’m a lucky guy. Options, sound options, exist even as I enter my 5th year of stage 4 cancer. A gift to me. Letting me fill my days  with happiness.

Acting, Cancer, Health, Science

Choices

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Shabbat gratefuls: Shadow, her bandage changed. Dr. Josy. AI help with the next step choices on prostate cancer. Jamie Bernstein. Bagel Table. Winter Olympics. Joe, the ski racer. Religion. Religions. Hinduism. Buddhism. Islam. Christianity. Judaism. Sikh. Jain. Parsi. Taoism. Shamanism. Paganism.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: AI

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov. Gratitude.

  • Literally “recognizing the good,” it is the practice of acknowledging the positive, often overlooked aspects of life.
  • Core Principles: It encourages focusing on what you have rather than what you lack, recognizing the humanity in others, and appreciating the natural world.

Tarot: 11 The Woodward

“…an “ancient guardian of the Wildwood,” it symbolizes inner strength, facing fears, understanding darkness, and managing primal instincts with quiet courage.”

One brief shining: Purpose porpoise deep sea waters diving down inside toward the great Holy Well of the collective unconscious, into the nefesh, the hidden places from which our souls gain nourishment, our bodies will, intent, courage and our lives find their firm foundations.

Health: Spent a good bit of yesterday trying to parse the difference between choosing the known Pluvicto and the gamble on the clinical trial. Hit on the idea of asking chatgpt which I’ve found a reliable interlocutor on questions medical.

Here’s the prompt I used:  My latest petscan showed significant increase in osseous metastases. I’m now in hormone resistant disease. My oncologist gave me the option of Pluvicto or a similar drug using Actinium but in a clinical trial. I’m not sure how to weigh the harsher Pluvicto against the possibility that I would end up in the control group for the trial. what do you think?

I also put the same question to Gemini 3.0 and Claude. I got a lot of useful, thought provoking material from all three. This came in a longer response from Gemini 3.0 and I found it helpful:

Why Choose the Trial?

  • Access to “Next-Gen” Tech: Actinium is often used as a “salvage” therapy for people who have already failed Pluvicto. By joining the trial, you are potentially skipping a step and going straight to the most powerful tool available.

  • Close Monitoring: Trial patients at RMCC receive much more frequent scans, blood work, and “concierge-level” attention from a dedicated research nurse compared to standard patients.

4. Why Choose Pluvicto (Standard Care)?

  • Certainty: You know exactly what you are getting and when.

  • Proven Track Record: It is the global gold standard for a reason. It works well and the side effects are very predictable.

Based on reading the responses from all three, I’m leaning toward the trial if I get positive answers to these questions from Annie Sauve, the Rocky Mountain Cancer Care nurse in charge of the trial:

  • “If I am randomized into the control group, what specific drug will I receive? Is it Pluvicto?”

  • “Does this trial have a ‘crossover’ provision if my next scan shows progression?”

  • “Given my concern about dry mouth, what salivary gland protection protocols (like ‘cold caps’ or injections) do you use during the Actinium infusion?”

  • How many times will l have to travel into Denver? I live in Conifer.  (I added this question)

As you can see, these are not straight forward matters. And, the stakes are high. I’m doing fine emotionally, looking forward to getting underway.

Cancer, Colorado, Health, Mountains, Science, Shadow Mountain

An Inner Glow

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Samain and the Summer’s End Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Morgan at Evergreen Orthotics. Neck braces. Abby Price, P.A., at Panorama Orthopedics. Steroid injection. Today. Looking forward to both. Cartoons. Anime. Manga. Horror. Fantasy. Science fiction. Mystery. Drama. Literary fiction. Albrecht Dürer. Arcimboldo. Breughel. Rembrandt. Poussin. Goya. Velasquez. Turner. Holbein.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: World Art

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Hakarat Hakov   Gratitude.    “Who is rich? Those who rejoice in their portion.” Perkei Avot 4:1

Tarot: Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Once again under the beam of a radiation  device remember radiation poisoning from atomic bombs yet here I go exposing myself to even more high energy particles for their harmful effect on human tissue, yes, their harmful effect aimed not at enemy cities, but at enemy cells, rogue multipliers who want to consume every bit of my body.

If you went into the crawlspace under my house, you would see black plastic sheeting covering the floor and tight against the short walls. Outside a vented flying saucer like device with a whirling fan sucks air from beneath the sheeting and disposes of radon, a naturally occurring radiation contained in soil and rock and water. Many homes here in the Rockies have radon mitigation devices.

When I traveled through southern Utah, several years ago, I stopped at the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. When I got out of the Tundra pulling Merton’s last possessions (Kate’s Dad), I hiked around the area.

Small wooden signs in National Park style had yellow painted letters that read: Uranium Mine, stay out.  Chains across the entrances reinforced the signs. These were modest as mines go, more like human sized burrows reaching back into the rock of the Kaiparowits Plateau.

When Kate and I began to look for housing after we decided to move to Colorado, a good deal caught our eye, the Candelas Development. Cheap land, good prices on interesting homes, and midway between Boulder and Denver with unobstructed views of the Front Range.

What’s not to like? Its proximity to the long closed Rocky Flats nuclear production facility for one. Rocky Flats, now a Superfund site, blocked off by chain link and razorwire, made nuclear triggers for the military.  An ongoing controversy focuses on plutonium found in the unmitigated land surrounding the Superfund site, the Rocky Flats Wildlife Refuge, and the land under the Candelas Development.

It’s been declared safe over and over again by regulators, but critics say that no amount of plutonium exposure is healthy. We did not choose to buy there.

Radiation occurs in so many places, some of human artifice, most part of Mother Nature’s collection of elements distributed over the Planet’s surface and within her mass.

I’m glad some clever scientists figured out how to harness radiation for peaceful uses like nuclear power plants (looking at you, Bill Schmidt), smaller reactors that power submarines and aircraft carriers, and fighting cancer.

Starting on Monday of next week, I’ll have the first of ten doses of lower energy radiation to kill a lesion in the bone marrow of my T4 vertebrae. I will wear my red t-shirt with the radiation hazard logo in yellow.

 

 

Cooking, Politics, Science

What was the right choice?

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Samain and the Summer’s End Moon

Monday gratefuls: Joy. Simcha. In late Fall, in morning darkness, for Artemis and her children, in Shadow’s eager hugs in the morning. Joanne at home. Shrimp Broil. Cooking. My kitchen. The many trails of our lives. Mule Deer in the yard yesterday. Dr. Patel. Torn labrum. MVP. Evergreen Orthotics.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Cooking the Shrimp Broil

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Chesed.  Loving Kindness.  “Kindness is the language the deaf can hear and the blind see.”  Mark Twain

Tarot: Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Though darkness obscures Black Mountain, the Lodgepoles, Derek’s house, the night also offers an advantage to those  Animals with eyes made to see in its limited illumination, so the night falls not as fully as it seems to our human, diurnal eyes; yet, Great Sol’s light which returns Black Mountain to our eyes, his very light obscures and hides completely Stars and Galaxies that make up our Universe, which is the greater veil, night or day?

 

Cooking: Finally. Made the shrimp broil sheet pan recipe, enough for four or five meals.

The standing. Even with my rubber anti-fatigue mats, which help, I had to sit down often after I powered through gathering the ingredients, Shrimp thawed from the refrigerator, sweet Corn, too, baby Potatoes, extra virgin Olive Oil, paprika, cayenne pepper, Old Bay seasoning, and Himalayan pink Salt, and cut the baby potatoes in half, throwing them in the large mixing bowl with two tablespoons Olive oil, and two minced garlic cloves. Stir to coat. Then dump onto the new Nordic Ware half sheet pan.

Knackered with dehusking the Corn and cutting each ear into four smaller pieces, buttering each one, setting them aside. I put the Potatoes into the 425 degree oven, set the timer for 20 minutes, and sat down. Not long, less than five minutes.

Pat the Shrimp dry and toss them with more Garlic and more Olive Oil. Put seasonings into the bowl and stir to coat. Sit down.

Ding. The Potatoes were finished so I placed the Corn on them and put the pan back in the oven. 2 minutes and out, turn the Corn, and add the Shrimp. 2 minutes later, turn the Shrimp. 2 more minutes and done. I sat for each interval.

That first plate tasted so, so good. I love cooking.

 

Just a moment: Caving. Eight Senators. one independent and seven Democrats, voted to end the shutdown without extending health insurance subsidies. A reasonable person can make an argument of compassion. SNAP returns to normal. The military gets paid, National Park rangers along with other  Federal workers, many of whom worked, like the military, with no pay for a month plus, get paid.

A reasonable person could also make a compassionate argument for holding out for the subsidy extensions. Millions of ordinary Americans, including many, many Trump voters will have to pay greatly elevated health insurance premiums. In effect a tax on a necessity, further weakening the cash flow of the middle and working classes.

I don’t know what the right choice was. Do you?

 

 

Dogs, Feelings, Greenhouse, Judaism, Plants, Science

Learn From It

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II

Sunday gratefuls: The Second Law. Entropy. Shadow and her wiggly, huggy ways. Happy Squash and Tomato Plants. Greenhouse in the Tomato zone. CBE Men’s group. Suffering. Jamie. Joe. Jim. Bill. Irv. Bailey and Babe, Bill’s Pugs. Floods. Wildfires. The Way of the Natural World.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow crosses the Threshold

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Hear on the side of merit.

One brief shining: Went out to Artemis to retrieve my watering can-which I use to fill Shadow’s water bowl-and went inside, feeling as I did the warmth of the heater Nathan hung over the door.

 

Artemis: My temperature sensor showed no more than 90 degrees during the heat of the day and no less that 61 degrees late yesterday evening and this morning. A bit outside Tomato temperature preferences of 85 to 65 degrees so I’ll have to adjust them. (OK. I admit I just checked. I remembered them incorrectly.)

The good news. Between the exhaust fan during the day and the heater at night I’ll be able to maintain optimum temperatures.

Nathan gave me six Tomato Plants, all doing well. He also gave me two Squash Plants which I planted in the outside raised beds yesterday. They are much happier in Soil. They needed to be outside because, well, they are Squash and throwing out Vines is their thing.

Artemis lives.

 

Dog journal: We’re inching toward leash acceptance. Shadow is less reactive, but she still won’t let me easily touch her collar, clip on the leash. Slowly, slowly.

Yesterday afternoon she was outside. I was about to leave for the CBE men’s group and wanted her inside. Calling to her from inside. She came in! The first time she had crossed the threshold when I called her. Slowly, slowly.

She’s sitting right in front of me watching me type, seeing if she can will me into feeding her early. With those eyes? Almost. But no. Dog’s prefer regular feeding times. I’ve been fussing with her second feeding, moving it later in the day so she may think anytime is the right time. That will fade.

She gave up and went to chewing on one of my old socks. She likes to throw them in the air.

 

CBE Men’s group: I led an evening on the theme of suffering. Based on a chapter from David Brook’s book: How To Know A Person. My aim was to take the conversation out of the head and into the lev, the heart/mind.

I opened with this Brooks observation that he cited as the subtext of the book. Experience, Brooks says, is not what happens to you; it’s what you do with what happens to you. This is a big idea.

It fits with suffering. Rabbi Jamie offered this Buddhist thought. Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional. I don’t agree. Yes, pain is inevitable. But. Grief is suffering. Anguish and despair during and after a divorce. Suffering. Rejecting suffering pushes away an opportunity to grow, to change.

The question I believe is what you do with your suffering. Do you let it overwhelm you, diminish you, or do you learn from it? Hear what it has to say. Allow yourself to change, become a new person in light of what you’ve learned?

Suffering teaches us; offers an opportunity for change. Neither fear it nor get stuck in it. Pay attention. Learn.

 

Commentary on Religion, Dogs, Health, Humanities, Judaism, Kabbalah, Literature, Myth and Story, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Science, Torah

This Is Not the Way

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Beltane and the Greenhouse Moon

Sunday gratefuls: A day of no-things. Shadow and I outside, drop, walk, stop, drop, turn, walk, drop. Her eagerness. Her five o’clock licking. Sciatica. Morning darkness. The morning service. The Shema. Tara. Ruth, home two days ago, leaving for Alaska today. Gabe, now a senior. Whoa. Mary in Seoul. Seoah, Murdoch. My son. Mark walks to downtown Al Kharj. Shadow Mountain.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: MRI

Week Kavannah: Wholeness and Peacefulness. Shleimut. Integrating pain into my daily life.

One brief shining: Sorry, Marines, pain is not weakness leaving the body, no; but, it is a constant reminder of being alive, of still having a body that can identify itself through the jolt that starts in the hip, gathers intensity around the knee, and on occasion flashes to the foot.

 

Back and cancer: Get MRI results tomorrow. Buphati at 3 pm. On Friday I see Kylie my Army officer retired P.A. for preparation. I have a SPRINT device in my future. The bogo MRI. Checking for cancer and readying me for a pain reduction, elimination procedure. Rare confluence of medical care.

Ouch, ouch, ouch. ouch. Sciatica is a son of a bitch. Above 10. A crescendo, then a falling away. I. Do. Not. Like. It.

If the SPRINT device works, I will send up hallelujahs in the name of its inventor, Kylie, and the doctor who installs it. If it doesn’t? I’m no worse off than before. Probably nerve ablation.

If there’s cancer in my hip? Don’t know. But Buphati will have things to recommend, I know.

 

Reading: I’m on a run of science fiction and magic. John Scalzi’s Starter Villain and Kaiju Preservation Society. Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files. The Gray Man and Daniel Silva set aside for the moment.

My serious reading of late has been for my two Kabbalah Experience classes. A New Story for Human Consciousness and the Radical Roots of Religion. The first, learning to retell, reimagine the story of Adam and Eve. And, in so doing, realizing we can reframe, reconstruct any story, including the one we tell ourselves about who we are in this world.

The second investigating moments when Judaism received a radical refit. Focused on Mordecai Kaplan, Abraham Joshua Heschel, Reb Zalman, and Art Green, but looking backward to Maimonides, the Bal Shem Tov, the destruction of the second Temple and the rise of Rabbinic Judaism.

I’m excited about these classes. I want to retell the story of Adam and Eve. Maybe my own story, too. Most of all I’m excited about considering what the next revolution might be in Judaism, imagining it, perhaps helping to build it.

 

Just a moment: Whoo, boy. We’ve crossed over and I didn’t really get it until I read this paragraph in an article titled: “Why Trump’s push for ‘gold-standard science’ has researchers alarmed.”*

Crossed over to what? An age of ideology, a time when political thought, doled out by political commissars, trumps (see what I did there?) decision making for any other reason.

This is a direct route to a Stalinesque, Mao Tse Tungesque form of governance. It is, as George Will observed in his strange opinion piece about Trump as a progressive, a form of Statism.

I admit I’m an Enlightenment, scientific method guy. But. I know that science does not occur in a political vacuum. Its funding, its direction, even its focus often has political influence. Look, for example, to the Agricultural and Mechanical universities dotted around the U.S. and delivering junk methods to farmers that kill the soil and enrich Big Ag.

Even so. I support science and the scientific endeavor to understand, to grasp the world around us as it is, not as we either imagine or wish it to be. No political commissar will know scientific facts better than scientists themselves.

I do agree with one facet of this critique of science, however. Many Americans have lost faith in science and we need, as a country, to help restore it. This is not the way.

 

 

 

” “And in a “Gold Standard Science” executive order last week, President Donald Trump outlined a new level of oversight over what counts as quality evidence and what does not, (emphasis mine) putting “a senior appointee designated by the agency head” in charge of overseeing “alleged violations.” Michael Kratsios, director of the White House Office of Science and Technology Policy, said in a briefing that the goal of the executive order is to “rebuild the American people’s confidence in the national science enterprise … the status quo of our research enterprise has brought diminishing returns, wasted resources and public distrust.”” Washington Post, June 1, 2025.

Asia, Judaism, Myth and Story, Paganism, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Reimaging revelation, Science, Torah, Wild Neighbors, Writing

A New Credo

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      Hercules wrestling Thanatos

Driving to Lone Tree this morning. Spine injections. Struck by the notion of Israel Harari. The Mountain man who struggles with God. Of Jacob/Israel as an archetype. The trickster transformed into wounded man of faith. Peniel-where I saw God face to face.

I’ve focused on Israel, on the struggle, but not considered or not fully considered the after moment, when Israel, newly named, limps away having seen God. Who names this ford on the Jabbok river after his realization.

So I decided to do that. I’ve struggled with God since I was young. Too small. Too violent. Too obscure and ineffable. Dead. I don’t experience God. What good can God be? And this stupid, stupid idea of a seventy year life as a test for residing in Heaven or Hell for eternity? No.

Then, the last 30 years or so, pass. Focused on the Soil, the Seed, the growing miracle of Plants, Dogs, grandchildren, love. No need for God. I feel the sacred when I amend the Earth. Pluck Onions and Carrots from their hidden places and spray them off with a hose nozzle. Food. The true transubstantiation.

What if I felt my way into the Goddess? Her Earth. Me as part, yet not part. Unique, but not unique. A Wave above her Ocean, ready at all times to return. What if I admitted to myself that my  feeling of separateness is the original sin. The hubris of independence. Of individuality.

What if. The yetzer hara, the selfish inclination, speaks to us of separateness. Of our needs. Of our unique demands. While the yetzer hatov speaks to our interdependence, our awareness of the needs of others, of the World around us.

Could I find the sense of support, of sustenance, of forgiveness, of grace, of embeddedness in the whole, the One? Could I pray? I drove on, watching the Trees, the Hogback, remnants of the orogeny that preceded the rise of the Rocky Mountains. Striated. Weathered. Shrunken. But still there, millions upon millions of years after its emergence.

Was I really, truly part of it? Was all the artifice of highways and cars part of it? The houses and stores. Doctor Vu, the kind and careful man who inserted needles into the narrow spaces of my bulging spine. And all his tech? The rotating bed. The living x-ray. Michal, his variously adorned assistant. Even the steroids shot toward my nerves? All of it?

What difference might it make if I leaned into this most pushed away notion. Or, is it the embrace I’ve already made of the chi, of wu wei, of the mystical revealing the ordinary as the sacred? Do those feelings find me already in her arms?

You know, it does. I’m a man of this short moment, a Wave cresting on the Ocean of the whole, going only from emergence to absorption, not needing to understand how. Yet as that man I’m also in and of the Ocean, of the Goddess, her instrument in this troubled part of her cosmos.