Monday, October 12, 2026

Thoughts from the Tub


 How many showers have we taken? How many baths?

A good place to think.

You’re an animal standing there washing your naked skin. Bathe your dog, and he acts like you are doing something terrible to him.  He likes the way he smells. But think how frisky he acts afterward.

We humans have denied for eons that we are animals, yet we have skin, bone, muscles, and organs just like theirs. Why do you think schools teach comparative anatomy to doctors?

Parents have said, “We made a baby.” But they didn’t. They started the ball rolling, and LIFE took over.

Those two cells began to divide. They made other cells. Those cells formed a ball. That ball rolled in on itself, forming the two sides of an animal. We have dominant and recessive sides, yet a heart in the middle. Some conservation was necessary. A circulatory system was necessary to feed the cells, and a heart was born. Now how did that happen?

Cells within those two sides began to differentiate; that is, they became specialized. They knew which ones would be the eyes, the brain, the limbs, the organs, the nerves, the veins, the arteries, the toenails, the fingernails, and the eyelashes. And let’s put some hair on that naked little thing.

And we were born a chemical, electrical, neurological factory. We are a thinking, breathing, eating, drinking, reproducing system—one that can get the next ball rolling.

What a system.

LIFE is so amazing, I wonder why we aren’t all rolling on the ground laughing with joyful exuberance that we made it.

Theology tried to convince us that we are the supreme beings on the planet and that gave us dominion over the whole of the earth. So what did we do? We began using up its resources. We cut the trees. We killed animals for sport. We threw our trash in the rivers and ocean.

But why did we get naked?

Remember the book, The Naked Ape?

I think its basic conclusion was that men liked naked butts, and natural selection brought it about. I don’t know; I think males bred with women who had hairy butts as well as naked ones. But then, individuals try to mate with the most attractive, strongest, or most cherished person in their society.  And women try to make themselves more attractive and desirable. It’s an age-old story.

Even wolves want their pups to be beautiful, strong, and capable of making the tribe better, smarter, and stronger. That is desirable in a species.

Being hairless helps keep parasites at bay, making it easier to get rid of mites and fleas. Gosh, those people lived before soap and insecticides. Praise the scientists.

Forget about all those smart-ass people who tried to exalt themselves and preach that we have dominion over all of the earth. They were pushing their agenda. Oh yeah, part of our animal nature is to have a pecking order, where the biggest, strongest, most powerful, or meanest can rally others to their cause and thus gain power over the people.  

It’s a push/pull sort of thing. Humans have labeled it as a war between good and evil. They say we live in a dualistic world.

But there are moments when we are a sharing world.

There are people whose basic desire is to wage PEACE.

Sometimes the strongest don't survive; the most cooperative do.

Some cultures don’t throw out their post-menopausal women, and they know that the grandmothers can help a family thrive. The whales do that as well.

Bachelor wolves who don't produce offspring because the alpha male and female have that job tied up, yet they help the tribe by being uncles to the young. Some people have given their lives for others—doesn’t the military use people’s altruistic desire to convince men and women to be soldiers? They are protecting the homeland.

Some individuals have willingly laid down their lives for a cause they believed was worth the loss. Some have given their lives, their most precious commodity, for a friend. Others have deliberately driven their plane into a boat or a building because they were either following orders or believed in their rightness so strongly they thought it was worth it. Some were ignorant enough to believe they would be rewarded with 100 virgins.

Some cherish the earth so much it hurts their hearts to see it ravished.

It has taken us lifetimes to realize there was more to the story. (Although, through the ages, some individuals have seen it.)  

It’s a nebulous thing. We see it. Then we question it. We don’t want to be fooled. Neither do we want to be foolish enough to believe anything. It’s tough. We see, we question. We've been taught to trust what can be proven, the nuts and bolts of it: show me the evidence. We have glimpses of this something, but no handle on it.

We sometimes have out-of-body experiences. We sometimes have near-death experiences. Poo-pooed or not, many believe. And many believe their own experience when they have a ”Knowingness” that turns out to be true. It is a nebulous thing: like why so few people missed work the day the World Trade Center fell.

Why do some people miss a plane that crashes?

Were they the chosen ones? Or did they listen to a small voice others of us are too busy or too distracted to hear?

Men of the Bible wrote of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, and tried to push it into one God.

Now we speak of the Body, Mind, Spirit connection and call it Holistic.

People have long believed in a power outside of us, and we have glimpses of it, but no proof. Still, some of us see that as miraculous.

Wednesday, October 7, 2026

The Tom Sawyer Technique? Nope, Angel

 


Monday: I was painting the tiny house parked in the gravel driveway beside the cement one leading to our garage.

Wait, the story gets better.

I was sitting on a camp chair in the back of my 1998 Toyota T-100 pickup—my makeshift scaffolding I had backed up to within inches of the house. I have orders not to work above my head, so I’m bringing my body to the level I’m painting.

A lady biker pulls up, stops, and asks, “Do you need any help?”

“Oh no, thanks, that’s asking too much.”

“No, really. Let me paint for a while.”

She climbs up into the pickup bed and paints as high as she can reach, leaving only a little “V” at the gable that she couldn’t reach.  We chatted; we hugged goodbye; she climbed on her bike, aiming for the high school to meet her kids, and I felt visited by an angel.

There are really good people in this world.

 

Are you having trouble with time as I am? Tuesday, I had to be in town and missed my blog day. I don’t hear any complaints, but I try to make Tuesday my blog day. Today, I’m happy to sit down at my computer and talk to you guys.  Outside my window, the maple tree leaves are stacking up on the ground. Didn’t they do that two weeks ago?

Halloween is happening next door, where horror decorations taller than people appear in greater abundance each year.

And I know Christmas is right around the corner. I feel it coming. Yesterday I heard a groan from that box of decorations stored in the garage. It sounded like a kid being awakened for school.

Jo, Go with the flow…

Okay.

Life gets squeezed in between days of writing, which I consider my job. I had to laugh when I read that as a child Liz Gilbert was embarrassed to be driven about town in a Ford Pinto filled with goats, but she knew her dad was doing his own thing and following his own path. (My daughter once bought a calf at an auction and drove it home in the back seat of her Dodge Neon.) Gilbert didn’t have a name for it then, but now she realizes her father was practicing something she calls ”Creative living.” Not that she wants to make the same choices her father did, neither being a farmer or a Republican, but she wants to forge her own way in the world as she likes.  

Isn’t that what we all want?

“Life is not orderly,” states Natalie Goldberg in the Introduction to Wild Mind. Try as we might, events happen. Like about a week ago, I was sitting in my pickup reading and waiting for my grandson to have a piano lesson when Whap! Someone hit the back of my pickup.

A shiny white Jeep wagon pulled up ahead, and a 92-year-old man walked up to my window: “I wasn’t watching,” he said. (I found he was 92 when I looked at his driver’s license.) A couple of fellows came over and asked if I was all right. I was. And my dear old pickup had only a little hole in the plastic covering of the rear bumper. No other damage. The fellow’s Jeep lost a side panel. I was glad I didn't drive the car that day.

My pickup is becoming a character in the novel of my life. My grandson prefers the car, but I told him that anything that gets me where I want to go is a good vehicle.

Not that I don’t like fancy cars; once I owned a brand-new Jaguar, but those days are over. Still, owning one convinced me that wild possibilities can happen.

About the bump to my truck's my rear end: I wondered what that was about. Am I sitting around waiting to be hit? Do I need to be bumped out of something? Was the universe saying “Wake up!” Was it that I had moments ago read about some dire thing that is happening in the world, and the Universe was saying, “Stop it.”

Or was it that “Shit happens?”

We could choose any of the above. And we can wonder if events happen for a reason.

You see, when you are young, you have more answers than questions.  When you get older, you have more questions than answers.