Between ~ What Comes After Death?

* Purgatory? *

It began with the sharing of an internet post:

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"The following is an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry midterm. The answer by one student was so 'profound' that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well.

Bonus Question:

Is Hell exothermic (giving off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when compressed) or some variant.

One student, however, wrote the following: First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will never leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving.

As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

That gives two possibilities:

1) If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2) If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over. So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Thelma during my freshman year that "It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you," and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over!

The corollary of this is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct......leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Thelma kept shouting "Oh my God!"

This student received an A+. "

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Yes, its funny, particularly if the reader comes from a scientific, more specifically, a physics discipline....AND, attended a mainstream American liberal arts college/university. I sent it on to some online friends and received a cryptic response from one of my favorite people on these inertoobs :

The Digital Hair Shirt (http://digihairshirt.blogspot.com/)

Her response:

"I give up . . . what do atheists scream during sex? They never taught us that in the convent school . . . "

THAT started the twisted, tangential lines of thought going in the dusty ol' hardware store/warehouse also known as "my brain". The first thing to pop up was the recollection of my own history. This is what I wrote:

"In my younger daze, in the dark ages when I wandered outside the confines of Mother Church, most of the gals I knew or dated believed in some kind of Neuvo Ageo mix of Hindu/Zen/Buddhist/Native American animism. They all believed in a "higher power" or some such drivel.

I never did date or bed an espoused atheist...They seemed so brittle and empty and, well...Godless!

I would grin and laugh about that, except that in truth and fact, it is very, very sad. Reminds me of the lost souls in C.S. Lewis' bright little book, The Great Divorce.

They chose to build their singularly, lonely, empty castles outside of and far away from the light and fellowship, the communion with God through Christ.

They have made their choice and judgement come true.....to them, there is no God. *Shudder!* "

And that brought to mind the whole theological concept of Purgatory.

Late in returning to Christianity after years of trying to prove that God did not exist, Lewis found himself face to face with God, in Christ and the realization that his Holy Spirit is at work in the world. An avowed and strict bachelor, he focused on education and worked his way to become first Professor of Medieval and Renaissance English at the University of Cambridge and a fellow of Magdalene College, Oxford.

Then he met Joy.

Joy Davidman Gresham, an American writer of Jewish background and also a convert from atheism to Christianity was estranged from an abusive relationship, a clerk and teacher. (thanks to Wikipedia for the attributions)

The avowed bachelor and completely independent Don of Medieval and Renaissance English Studies....He found his humanity. His heart of stone, broken... and his singular life, remade whole in Christ. From that point on, all of his gifted words reflected the ongoing life he held so dear in his Saviour.

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There are No Ordinary People,

You Have Never Met a Mere Mortal...

" … for I will bring you not to the land of questions but of answers, and you shall see the face of God" ~ C.S. Lewis --The Great Divorce

The Barbie Syndrome

*Metro-Denver Barbies*

An ongoing discussion in this, the 50th year of Mattel's flagship doll's production, brought about this Denver specific line of the lanky blonde doll. This topic is actually making my teeth hurt as I grind away on my molars as I grind away on this post! I hope it will bring at least a smile if not a laugh or two.

Although the place names might not be familiar, you will probably recognize at least a couple of these Barbie characters from within your own metropolitan area.

ENJOY!!!!!!

"Cherry Hills Barbie"
This Princess Barbie is only sold at The Cherry Creek Mall. Comes with an assortment of Kate Spade Handbags, Lexus SUV, long-haired foreign dog named Honey and cookie-cutter house. Available with or without tummy tuck and face lift. Workaholic Ken sold only in conjunction with the silicone augmented version.

"Highlands Ranch Barbie"

Modern Day Homemaker Barbie is available with Ford WindStar Minivan and matching gym outfit. Gets lost easily and has no full-time occupation. Traffic jamming cell phone sold separately. Ken is a middle management CPA. Ken is on prozac or zoloft or a three-martini lunch diet.

"Aurora Barbie"

Recently Paroled Barbie comes with 9mm Glock handgun, Ray Lewis knife, lowrider Chevy with dark-tinted windows, and Meth Lab Kit. Model only available after dark and must be paid for in cash (preferably small, untraceable bills). Aurora Ken has returned to East LA...for reasons uspecified.

"Centennial Barbie"

Yuppie Barbie comes with your choice of BMW convertible or Hummer H2. Included are her own Starbucks cup, American Express card and country club membership. Also available for this set are Shallow Ken and Private School Skipper. You won't be able to afford any of them.

"Morrison Barbie"

This pale model comes dressed in her own Wrangler jeans two sizes too small, NASCAR T-shirt and Tweety Bird tattoo on her shoulder. Accessories include six-pack of Bud Light and Hank Williams Jr. CD set. Doll can spit over 5 feet and kick Mullet-Haired Ken's butt when drunk. Pickup truck sold separately and get a Confederate flag bumper sticker absolutely free!

"The Lo-Do Lofts Barbie"

This collagen-injected, rhinoplastic Barbie wears a leopard print outfit and drinks Cosmopolitans while entertaining friends. Percocet prescription available, as well as a warehouse conversion condo. Ken, where's Ken? Ken is off in New Mexico attending a Men's movement weekend. Ken is constantly in a crisis state. This year it is a sexual identity crisis.

"Commerce City Barbie"

This tobacco-chewing, brassy-haired Barbie has a pair of her own high-heeled sandals with one broken heel from the time she chased Beer-Gutted Ken out of Morrison Barbie's house. Ensemble includes low-rise acid-washed jeans, fake fingernails, and see-through halter-top. Also available with a mobile home and '64 Chevy pickup with a bent trailer-hitch.

"Capitol Hill Barbie"

This doll is made of actual tofu. She has long straight brown hair, archless feet, hairy armpits, no makeup and Birkenstocks with white socks. She prefers that you call her Willow. She does not want or need a Ken doll, but if you purchase her two Westport Barbies "friends" and the optional Subaru wagon, you get a rainbow flag bumper sticker for free.

"Northglenn Barbie"

This classic Barbie now comes with a stroller and infant doll. Optional accessories include a GED and bus pass. She lives in a 80's brick cliff dwelling apartment complex. Gangsta Ken and his 1979 Caddy were available, but are now very difficult to find since the addition of the infant. Northglenn Barbie is now on full welfare and medicaid.

"Lakewood Barbie"

She's perfect in every way. Her family used to be Episcopalians. Now they are members of the Conservative LCA (Lutheran Church in America). We don't know where Ken is because he's always hunting or fishing. Skipper and her little brother are both star students in the Lutheran private school.

"Wash Park Barbie/Ken"

This versatile doll can be easily converted from Barbie to Ken by simply adding or subtracting the multiple snap-on parts. Does the phrase " Metrosexual, social hermaphrodite" mean anything to you? Go figure... I have not a clue!!!

WTF!

Mad Molly's Brown Ale

~Golden City Brewery~

It's motto: " Golden's Second Largest Brewery."

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Golden Colorado....

Golden is the quintessential mining town nestled between the wrinkled, alluvial fans and flat topped "mesa" uplifts of Colorado's nor'eastern foothills. Golden is where kayak river wrestlers, local flyfishers, and geology students, hikers, mountain bikers live and dance their dances.

And yes, there are two very disparate breweries in Golden. One is the Coors Brewery. Coors was once a closely held family local company. They expanded their sales nationwide and expanded into the development of aerospace and military ceramics in conjunction with Ball Aerospace. They have recently joined in a multi-national partnership with the Canadian brewer, Molson.

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The other, well, the other, "second largest" is a microbrewery:

Golden City Brewery could be a post-modern iteration of Tolkien's "Green Dragon" in Bywater, Hobbiton. It is small, home grown and gritty, producing exceptional ales and stouts without any pretense other than to brew and sell good beer! It's best that you learn about it from the folk who make it all happen:

http://www.gcbrewery.com/Home_Page.php

These are pics of their brewery:

That being said, Golden has a history, 150 years in the making:

"The historic City of Golden is a Home Rule Municipality that is the county seat of Jefferson County, Colorado, United States. Golden lies along Clear Creek at the eastern edge of the foothills of the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains.

The Golden City "National Guard Armory."

Founded during the Pike's Peak Gold Rush on 16 June 1859, the mining camp was originally named Golden City in honor of Thomas L. Golden. Golden City served as the capital of the provisional Territory of Jefferson from 1860 to 1861, and capital of the official Territory of Colorado from 1862 to 1867. In 1867, the territorial capital was moved about 15 miles (24 km) east to Denver City. The United States Census Bureau estimates that the city population was 17,366 in 2005.

Lookout Mountain upstream on Clear Creek

The Colorado School of Mines, offering programs in engineering and science, is located in Golden. Also there are the National Renewable Energy Laboratory, the Coors Brewing Company, CoorsTek, the American Mountaineering Center, and the Colorado Railroad Museum. It is the birthplace of the Jolly Rancher, a candy bought out by the Hershey Foods Corporation. Famous western showman William F. "Buffalo Bill" Cody is buried nearby on Lookout Mountain." ~ Wikipedia


Yesterday, my long time friend Peter Forss and I rambled up the old stage coach road from Northwest Denver to Golden. Peter is another one of these tangential thinkers who blends science with art, right brain with left brain... Photography and Physics....Color and the Coriolis effect...Short wave radio jazz and the breath of Boreas whistling in the sails offshore in the Carib Sea.

Mostly we enjoy strange, eclectic food and drink..odd and ancient vehicles, electronics and astronomy, and, beloved, the subtle yet brilliant mixing of colors in the Colorado sky. And yeup, we are men; mesmerized by distinctively feminine fannies toasting in the sun, or waltzin' down the walk in brite-white oxford shirts and tight levis.... Or the sight of tanned and slithering shoulders working a kayak in and out of the rapids or curling close against the current....or simply a soulful and quiescent Daughter of Eve, quiet, soaking up the sun's radiant heat, clothed in little else except a thought and a prayer covering the soft, supple clay vessels that contain their true beings.

I am convinced that God loves creating, and enjoying beauty!

Sunrise

October Remembered

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Brigid's latest post over at http://mausersandmuffins.blogspot.com/ flipped a switch in the grey matter and the memory of antelope hunts came flooding into this late spring morning. Her recollection of hunter's sunrise is poignant...makes me wish that spring and summer were gone and I were on the road to Cheyenne Wells to hunt pronghorn.

And, it dredged up a strong memory of earlier hunts on that wide and rolling prairie sea.

Yes'sum, I Know the Sunrise

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Black on black the night sky pierced by Orion's crystalline stars and brilliant Aldeberon, the red eye of the Bull. That's what we see at our awakening. The high plains where naught but the light pre-dawn breeze whispers. All else is holy silence.

Its early October and the acrid, alkaline dust, its fragrance stirred into the pre-dawn dew. There’s barely enough moisture in the air to dampen the short grass prairie. We rise silent and speak little. It seems a sacrilege to shatter the magic, with coarse talk and light the gas lantern and break the spell.

In the hissing halo of light, the coffee boils in a blackened pot. The dark, caffeine heat steams away sleep. We dress. Blaze orange over camo clothes, which appears ludicrous, but we do it anyway. Its the law. The mental checklist : Binoculars, water, a stash of granola bars stuffed in pockets lined with memories of dove and duck and maybe a spring turkey, we prepare. Knives and rope and the bone saw, extra ammo and a hunter’s prayer are stashed in the fanny pack.

There in that India Ink black we stretch our senses. How far is far on this rolling dry, sandy sea where pronghorn run for the sheer joy born in their swift limbs, huge hearts and lungs.

The two long guns loaded, the chambers empty, stock butts nestled on the truck’s transmission hump, we ride east into the shadow grey and sullen red slit that defines the horizon. The slit widens and the light grows. Red rolls into muddy orange horizon clouds then rages, yellow-orange in a furnace ablaze. Once the sun breaks the Kansas line, once color defines winter wheat from fallow ground, there the realization is hammered into our souls of just how small we are under the rising blue dome and the long, long sight to only a farther distant line. Distance. It pulls at the mind and psyche, so far a distant shore on this prairie sea. We question our senses:

" Is it a treeline or a fence or a break where sudden summer storms cut a deep arroyo? "

That question is moot when the first flash of a white butt in the midst of green winter wheat sends a semaphore signal. The hunt is on!

We stop, binocs to the eyes and we whisper. What is the best way to approach these prairie ghosts, speed goats, pronghorns in the shimmering air maybe a mile away. The small herd paws and feeds on a long gentle rise, their eight-power eyes ever watching. The sun dumps heat into the earth and it radiates up. Thermals cause the wind to grow and the air to glisten dry and brittle. There is no “best” way to approach, no cover, no fence line to follow. It’s a matter of chance and a slow low walk until its time to crawl in the dust and burrs and cactus….Perhaps a futile stalk, at 500 yards a sentinel may snort and before a round is chambered, they are gone, dusty memories over the rise. And, its only 7:30 in the morning.


Yes'sum, I know the sunrise.


Did we finally harvest? Yes…after nearly two full days of scouting, glassing, stalking... and swearing as another set of white fannies vanished in the sparkling air, over an unseen horizon. We caught a pair somewhat unaware and as they dove under the barbed wire fence we rolled out of the truck and, fence posts as shooting platforms, we shot within seconds of one another and dropped two goats.

Gutted, hung on the tripod and gambrel, skinned, washed down with water and cooled in the fresh wind, we packed the carcasses in ice. I turned and took a pic as we readied the truck for the journey home...and realized.......

It's impossible to capture the breadth and depth of the prairie sea and the wide, high skies overhead. One must be there, awaken to it and walk in it to fully know, if it is possible to fully know the overwhelming feeling of the open prairie.

God must rest from his labors in places like this.

The Hidden Season - Part Two

Shadows and Light

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In 1980, Joni Mitchell, the Canadian composer/musician/singer released a live album. It was basically a compilation that chronicled her growth from a simple folk singer into an respected and accomplished jazz muscian. That period was about four years long from 1975 to 1979. Mitchell's fertile mind and spirit created a veritable explosion of songs and albums, leaving some in the folk/rock world dumfounded as she embraced and mastered the subtle nuances of all manner of jazz.

The name of the album is Shadows and Light. The title tune:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fO-aSVFCDxw

Mitchell is a consumate musical artist. Her unique ability to fuse folk with jazz and paint incredible, indelible pictures with music and words blossomed in those years, the late 1970's.

She is also an accomplished visual artist, painting in watercolors and oils. This aging Lady of the Canyons is very visual, very tactile and very much a Scorpio drawn to darkness, drawn to light.

She and I share Scorpio traits, and the affinity for visual/tactile art and music. Hence, the title of this post....Shadows and Light.

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Yesterday, I took Nate for a walk along Clear Creek in the Jeffco open space Prospect Lake Park. The lil' digital camera came along for the walk.

Officially, we are a month into the season. Spring is still young here. The latest major spring storm has gone east. All the wet snow has melted in the stong sunlight. Succulent grass is rising and fresh buds add more green to the willows and cottonwoods. The sun is still low enough that it creates raking light, even at midday. Shadows and light....and snow on the upper foothills. Its still that hidden season, caught between the end of winter and true spring.


The spring runoff has not yet begun in the high country. The foothill and high plains creeks are still running very low. Its a good time to take photos along the stream beds. And, with the digital age, its gives us the ability to manipulate images.

The creative spark, the breath of God's Spirit

runs deep in his children.

To some, it is a fierce flame,

driving a life-long obsession.