hellocire

This blog is now dead. There's more interesting stuff over at www.bendell.ca or at www.twitter.com/colinbendell

I wake up with a start.

It's 3am. Christmas Eve.

At least I got a few minutes of sleep on these airport benches.

I decide to collect by bags and head toward the ticket counter to see if I can get my boarding pass for the last leg of my journey. Just 36 hours ago I was leaving Hong Kong. It has been a long trip filled with flight delays and cramped intercontinental flights.

As I round a corner, I hear a woman crying. Not just crying, sobbing. This is not the crying of a person who is love sick or homesick. This is the kind of sobbing that reaches deap into your soul. This is the cry of a person stricken with grief.

She is trying to talk on a cell phone with one hand. The other covering her mouth with disbelief. A young woman, barely 20, awkwardly has her arm wrapped around the weeping woman. Someone from airport authority is standing a respectful distance and talking into her walkie-talkie.

I take a deep breath. I know what this feels like. I want to help, but there is nothing I can do that will fix this. I want to offer her the prayers from the book of common prayer that I once committed to memory - prayers to console, and to greave.

That was a different lifetime. I cannot offer the prayers that I no longer believe in. It would be hollow. It would be demeaning.

Instead I pass by and stand in line to check in. I can still hear her in the distance. Soon an ambulance pulls up in front of the terminal with its lights flashing. Two paramedics and a gurney come through the doors.

I can see a host of airport personnel congregating near where I think the woman is. I turn my back for a moment and when I return my focus on the scene, I catch a glimpse of the paramedics navigating the gurney through the sliding doors. I can't tell if it is occupied or not, but it looks like it is taking a little more effort to navigate.

The ambulance pulls away and the flashing lights become only a memory.

A teenager with a surf board passes by oblivious. A family passes where the woman was, dressed in shorts, looking eager to spend Christmas somewhere tropical. The world goes on.

"Merry Christmas," I think.

Another deep breath. I exhale the brewing emotion of the moment as I fumble for my passport.

"Just two bags to check in for you today sir?"

"Yea.

I've only been in Shenzhen for a couple of hours but I already miss Beijing. Actually it's not that I miss Beijing; I just don't like Shenzhen that much.

The smog is much worse than Beijing. The buildings are older and run down. Everyone walks around with their backpacks on their front fearful of pickpockets.

My room in the so-called four star hotel we are staying at has a leaky faucet in the bathroom and the shower drain doesn't drain. Even the breakfast is mediocre (but palatable).

As I'm collecting my breakfast from the buffet I catch a glimpse of one of the hostesses walking the chef to the kitchen. They both look like they are in they are in their mid 20s. They're walking really close together. As I get closer I can see that they are holding hands but trying to be discrete about it.

The hostess notices my approach and promptly lets go of the chef's hand. Changing direction, she escorts me the rest of the way to my table and pulls out my chair.

"Enjoy your breakfast," she says in slightly broken english.

Ah love. Even here, on the other side of the globe they have love.

Maybe Shenzhen isn't that bad after all.

Hugo:

Sorry for the delay getting back to you. As you can expect, school is crazy busy. Anyway, here are some resources, websites, talks and books that you might want to look into. Consider this list a quick primer. As you can probably guess, there is a lot out there so I'll try and keep this list limited to a few high profile authors.

Dan Dennett
* prominent philosopher on evolutionary biology and cognitive science at Tufts University
* Ted Talk which is a great response to Rick Warren's Ted Talk.
* Breaking the Spell - a scientific analysis of the social evolution of religion
* I would also recommend his other Ted Talk "Can we know our own minds?"
* overall I really like Dan Dennett's material. I find he is a lot gentler when addressing religion and atheism than other authors that I'll recommend.

Richard Dawkins
* leading evolutionary biologist at Oxford
* God Delusion - a good general overview of the atheist argument. Some of his arguments are pretty easy to defeat, yet I think he presents a very good overall argument. Check out the video links below related to this book
** Book Reading and Q/A in Lynchburg VA - be warned, Dawkins is much more brash when in a Q&A forum. This is probably the result of his Oxford Professor tenure.
** Preface to the Second Edition
* Selfish Gene - a very provocative work that advances modern evolutionary theory. I would recommend most of his other works too on the subject.
* Root of all evil (and Part 2)- made for TV episode that is a slightly simplistic in its arguments and suffers at times from the ad hominem fallacy. However, it does have a few entertaining and legitimate points to offer. Of particular interest is the interview with Ted Haggard.

Sam Harris
* Writer with PhD in philosophy and neuroscience; he focuses his writing on the philosophy of the mind and criticism of religion.
* End of Faith - I found this at times very insightful, but at other times rather degenerate. He sometimes can become too extreme and not very compassionate. Worth the read though.
* Letter to a Christian Nation - ditto
* Pop!Tech keynote: The Future of Ideas - worth a listen - a much more tolerant presentation.

Julia Sweeney
* Comedian, play write, former SNL actor and atheist; always an entertaining listen or read
* Letting Go of God - a humourous, entertaining, witty and thoughtful performance on her own journey of letting go of god.
** Excerpt performed at TED 2006 - a great excerpt
* Blog - lots of good stuff on her blog, worth perusing.
* Her Reading List - she once compiled her own reading recommendations, which is much more extensive than this. I have yet to make a significant dent on her reading list.

John Shelby Spong
* Retired Anglican Bishop; defender of the rights of the gay, lesbian, bi, trans community
* Why Christianity Must Change or Die - a really good comprehensive summary of how he has wrestled with the tension of his faith and its erosion by science. I don't necessarily agree with his conclusions, but it is a rather frank and open dialog. I would recommend his other works as well.

Other stuff
* My response on the topic of textual statistics of the bible (I tend to stop responding once the argument gets out of hand).
* My response on the topic of lack of apologetics with other religions
* Atheism Tapes - a collection of interviews on the subject of religion, atheism and convictions. Read the transcript if you can't get your hands on the audio/video
* Skeptic's guide to the Universe Podcast - lots of interesting material covered here.


Ok. That's plenty; I'll stop there for now. If you want a place to start, I would pick up the God Delusion (2nd edition if you can). Then I'd pick and choose from the above list. If you're interested I can send you a few email excerpts from exchanges I've had over the years.

I'm really interested to hear some of your thoughts as you work your way through these resources. What stands out to you, what were good / bad arguments, etc. And feel free to ask any questions along the way too.

Have a great summer and don't forget to enjoy the sun once in a while :)

cheers,

Thanks to Rachel's chromosome analysis, I've been able to show Avery what it really means to have two X chromosomes. I don't think Avery gets it though.

On a completely unrelated note, you must check out Ken Miller discuss the chromosome #2 fusion site. This stuff blows my mind! This is absolutely fantastic stuff!



If you are interested, the above segment is part of a 2hr lecture titled The collapse of Intelligent Design. The real juicy stuff starts around 30:46.

“Daddy, you and Kieran are boys, right?” my oldest daughter, Avery, proclaims at the supper table.

“That’s right.”

“And me and mommy are girls.”

“Yep. That’s right. Why are you a girl?” I ask, not wanting to miss a learning opportunity.

“Because I have two,” she replies.

“Two what?”

“Two X chromosomosomosomsomes!” she exclaims triumphantly.

My daughter has been intensely fascinated with gender ever since Kieran was born. In the last six months she has asked a million questions about anatomy and the differences between girls and boys. Boys always get the bad rap for being preoccupied with anatomy, but I think girls are just preoccupied with it earlier in life.

Unfortunately when little girls and boys have gender on the mind, that’s all they think about. That’s why I’ve started teaching her about dna and genetics. Otherwise I knew that one day would come and Avery will shock some poor elderly lady in the grocery store about her knowledge in antomy. 

But this got me thinking about gender: Is gender only defined by our sexual organs or more broadly by the combinations of dna we possess?

I recently read an article on viiphoto.com about a kid who has been diagnosed as transgenedered: a boy trapped in a girl’s body.

In New York City, the laws are changing to allow a person to change the gender on his or her birth certificate – even if the person has not undergone a sex change operation.

These are just two examples that I have come across in the last week on the subject. Not to mention issues of sex changes, simultaneous hermaphrodites, homosexuality, down's syndrome and a whole host of other gender related genetic mutations.

Clearly gender is more than the nature of our sexual organs. It is even broader than our chromosome combinations. Then again, that might be a little too much for Avery to catch on to just yet.

Remembrance Day this year has a little more meaning for me this year than previous years. No, it is not because I have family serving in Afghanistan. What has changed is that I am more aware of my family history since my 91 year old grandmother visited me in the spring. Sometimes I wish I was much more interested in hearing family stories when I was a kid.

Leonard Cantrill, my Great Grandfather, served in WW1 in the trenches a communications officer and signaler. Much of WW1 depended on adhoc communication systems using flags, flares and signals. He returned home after the war, shell-shocked and gassed. As a result, when they immigrated to Canada during the 20s, his capacity to help and function within the family was limited, leaving the responsibility to raise their three children up to his wife. After the war, he never was the same and wasn't really 'with it' ever again.

The second story, although it will sound kinda lame, has made me sensitive to WW2 in a whole new way. My bio-grandfather, Norman Hilton, was a jew. He successfully hid this from my grandmother until years after he had died. No, he doesn't have a harrowing story about an escape for Auschwitz . He grew up in England and immigrated to Canada as a child. Although Canada was no more welcoming to Jews at the time, he lived a relatively safe life.

I do not mean to trivialize the atrocities of WW2 but what struck me was that if my grandfather and his family had grown up just a couple hundred kilometers further east they likely would have died during the holocost. There were people in Nazi Germany that would have liked nothing more than to kill people like my grandparents - to kill people like me - just because of our ethnicity. The truth is, I likely would not be alive today had Nazi Germany won.

Sure, this might sound a bit melodramatic and extreme but deep down, I feel a greater pride for those 1.1 million Canadians who served in WW2.

Last month I spent a weekend working evenings at the Premier Show. Once again I was promoting wines brought into the province by Doug Reichel Wine Marketing.

Compared to the Top of the Hops event that I worked at in the spring, this event is much higher class. (Though I still wouldn't call it ritzy.)

Each evening of the event we are assigned floor hosts who are responsible for refreshing the water and baskets of bread, making sure our we have enough ice to chill the wines and also empty our swish buckets periodically through the night.

"So where are you from?" asks one of the guys assigned to my booth.

I've never heard that pick up line before. Sure, I may occasionally flirt with the gay guys who come to the booth but that's because they like it and I'm really just trying to push product. I never really expected anyone to reciprocate; especially not from event staff.

"Pardon me?"

"Where did you come from for the event?"

"Uhh, I live on the south end of the city."

"Really?" He asks with a puzzled look.

"Yea, really. Where did you think I was from?"

"Oh, I see" the guy looks slightly embarassed now. I guess he really wasn't hitting on me (and I'm secretly slightly disappointed).
"I thought you were from Australia or something."

"No, sorry. I'm from here. I'm from Saskatoon. But we do have two vineyard owners from Cape Jaffa, Australia here at the event. They're in the Premier Room if you would like to meet them."

"Uhh. Thanks. Sorry about that."

Australia?! What? Sure I might have a slight Ontario drawl, but Australia?

melaniemaryjane thinks its because my presentation/salesman voice is different than my normal voice. Even so, Australia? Very doubtful.

The odd thing is that later that evening someone else asked me the same thing. How culturally inept are you people?! I officially retract my comment about this show being slightly higher class!

“Hey, do you guys have 30 cents?”

It’s Friday night, downtown Ottawa, just outside the National Art Center. This guy is probably the fourth in the last block to ask the same question.

“Sorry man,” I say, “I don’t have anything on me.” It’s the truth. In fact, I rarely ever have cash on me.

I try not to make eye contact as I turn away. I join my friends who are waiting for the traffic light to change. We’re all trying to politely ignore the guy on the corner as we wait to cross the street.

It’s hard to have compassion on those types of people sometimes. Jeeze. I just said “those type of people.” How offensive. But in truth, this is what I am thinking - as offensive as it is. I have to admit that I have become hardened over the years and tend to ignore people asking for money like the way I ignore banner ads. I just pretend they don’t exist.

I am a shameful example of a human being sometimes. Sure I might have on occasion given money or bought a meal for a panhandler/beggar in the past. But a couple good deeds do not make good karma.

The guy on the street is still talking to us. He’s not going away.

“… and they said in the last election that this city has the warmest and nicest people in the country. I say bullshit. People are just walking by as if you don’t exist. They pretend you aren’t even there.”

He’s got us pegged.

“All I want is 30 lousy cents so I can buy a new paint brush. I’m a painter and I’m working on a new painting to sell. I just need a new paintbrush. Is that too much to ask for?”

I notice now that he’s carrying what looks like a bag with a large canvas inside.

“Sorry. We don’t have anything on us,” one of my friends reply.

The light turns green and we cross the street, leaving the aspiring painter behind. After all, we are trying to find an open Beer Store before 10pm. We heard there might be one down on Isabella so we have to pick up the pace.

As we leave we make a few jokes amongst ourselves about the aspiring painter and his 30cent paintbrushes. Very quickly the man fades from our conversation and we forget all about him.

Despite the fact that he appeared to be just another panhandler, what if he really was a painter, trying to make his way through life? t_repeat, Oliver and I reflect on this the next day as we are killing time before the reception.

“Wasn’t it Van Gogh who was dirt poor all his life and never really saw a dime from his paintings or any fame?” t_repeat asks rhetorically.

Who knows, maybe this guy’s art will one day show up at the Mendel Art Gallery and when I’ll point to the picture of the artist on the wall and say, “Hey, I remember him.”

Maybe. You never know.

My wife and I had the pleasure of visiting Ottawa the other weekend to attend an old friend’s wedding. This wedding was a perfect demonstration of balance and respect of two different cultural traditions. The ceremony was a beautiful mixture of Catholic liturgy and Hindu tradition. The reception, while being large for Amanda’s family and small for Jayant’s, was a perfect balance of expectations and desires from both families.

Amanda and Jayant: You have already learned what takes many couples years to understand. Even though we celebrated our 6th anniversary on the day of your wedding, you have demonstrated to us that we have much more to learn. May your lives together be a blessing to those around you and may your marriage see many fruitful and fun-filled years ahead.

The good news is that I was able to tarp the car before the hail storm got too bad

The bad news is that I have bruises from the hail when I was tarping the car. I doubt the tarp was any help.

The good news is that my roof isn't actually leaking.

The bad news is that I itch all over because I crawled through my attic half naked after stripping off my soaking wet clothes.

The good news is this wasn't hail the size of golf balls like Calgary and Wakaw recently experienced.

"So let me ask you this: With all the politics with hospitals and government, do you still enjoy being a nurse? Would you do it again if you had the chance?"

It’s 3am on the maternity ward. Not much happens at 3am – even newborns just wake up long enough to be fed so they can go back to sleep. However, tonight we are awake at 3am because the nurse has to weigh and check Kieran's vitals before he can feed.

While the nurse works she strikes up a conversation with us, asking all the usual kinds of questions. Do you have any other children? How old is your daughter? Are you originally from here? How many siblings do you have? Etc, etc. We in turn ask similar questions.

These are really just courtesy questions – things to fill the time. I think of them as one step less shallow than 'Hi, how are you?' You really don’t expect the other person to remember anything you say, nor do you expect yourself to remember much either.

Much like everything else at 3am, I'm bored of the trite conversation.

"Wow, that's a really hard question," the nurse replies slowly looking up from her charts, "I think so."

"You still find your job rewarding then?"

"Yea, for the most part. I think I would do it again, even though this is the profession that killed my husband." She makes eye contact with me briefly, her eyes are full of sadness, and then she returns her focus to the charts on her lap.

"Fuck; I'm really sorry to hear that," I say empathetically, "do you mind if I ask what happened?"

"That's alright," she replies as she recounts the events leading up to her husband's death: While in the ER, after a mild heart attack, a doctor miss diagnoses her husband's situation - dismissing important information she provided. The misdiagnoses resulted in a treatment that was directly responsible for his death.

"Do you really want to hear all this?"

"Yea, of course." She looks as though she could use a new ear to hear her story and give life to her deceased husband.

Her grievance is further aggravated with politics in releasing her husband's body and then with the death of her brother in law just a few days later.

"It's got to be tough for you sometimes to come to work at the hospital."

"You know, I go from the parking lot, straight to this ward. And when I'm done work, I go straight back to the parking lot. I had to go down to the ER not too long ago to pick something up. It was all I could do to keep myself from bawling."

"I know what you mean. I'm the same way when I see the flashing lights on an ambulance."

We continue to chat, swapping stories and insights. Eventually baby Kieran finishes eating and the nurse returns to her other responsibilities.

It's nearly 4am now. That's ok. The last hour has been very rewarding. Sometimes it is so easy to forget everyone has a story and that we aren't the center of the universe.

As I reflect on these events I realize that were it not for my newborn son, I would not have had the opportunity nor would I have likely taken the time to listen to this nurse's story.

Kieran: although you are just a few days old, you have already taught me a most valuable lesson. I hope that I may continue to learn more from you as the years pass.

Yesterday at 10:30am CST, Kieran Nicholas we born. He weighed 10lbs 12oz (4890g) and stretches out at 22.75" (58cm). Both baby and mom are doing well.

Welcome, little one.

Ms. Yelich, MP:
I am a citizen of the Blackstrap riding and would like to express my distaste to the recent changes by the current government regarding the deaths of Canadian military personnel. I, like many Canadians have family roots within Canada's military, as my grandfather was a carrier navy officer. And I, like most Canadians look to our armed forces with pride and respect. We do not have a history of being a military aggressor. When a soldier dies, it is not because we have sent them on an amoral or illegal mission. Rather, when a soldier dies during active duty it is because they are protecting our country or, more likely, trying to maintain peace within the world.

As a person who has lost many friends and family in recent years, I know that honouring the dead is important to those grieving. When a soldier dies, a part of Canada dies too. A soldier is more than a person working a job - they are people with conviction and are an example of what it means to be Canadian. We should be proud to honour the dead, not ashamed.

In a time of mourning, actions speak louder than any words. This is why I feel that for the sake of the dead, the grieving families, and the nation as a whole, it is important for us to demonstrate our condolences by the lowering of the flag and allowing the publication of pictures of the caskets of the fallen (unless of course this is contrary to the wishes of the family.)

Moreover, we should not be taking notes from our allies to the south. We should be charting our own course. In this case I believe that it is one that publicly honours the dead. Honouring these soldiers reminds us that the peace, well-being and good life that we enjoy as Canadians is not universal across this globe. It reminds us that we are not specially privileged to enjoy these freedoms, but it something that should universally apply to all humans. Honouring these soldiers, therefore, spurs us to take up their conviction and help bring peace to this world.

Therefore, I ask you to petition the current government to reverse the recent policy changes. It would not shameful to change the policy based on the opinions of this country's citizens. Rather, it would be a great demonstration that democracy is alive and well; an example for other countries to follow.

Thank you for your efforts on this issue.

My grandmother is up visiting and treated Avery (and us) to lunch at McDonalds. I’m standing in line waiting to order but it’s lunchtime and the lines are long. I zone out. Time passes without my notice.

In a flash, I’m brought back to reality. Out of the corner of my eye I see a 15yr old kid start to fall toward the ground.

Those kids probably shouldn’t be roughing around right now – I bet the manager will flip out at them if they keep this up, I think to myself.

Something’s off. He doesn’t look like he’s falling because he was pushed. Maybe they’re not scrapping, maybe the guy is just showing off by pretending to fall. I remember I used to do that in elementary school.

Oh shit. He’s unconscious.

I’m instantly aware of every passing millisecond.

I step out to catch him as he falls. I’m too slow at assessing the situation. His head collides against the legs of another patron. His eyes are rolled back, breathing irregular and his arms slightly stiff.

“Sir, are you alright. Can you hear me?” I ask as I nudge his shoulder.

Good job captain obvious. If he were all right would he be on the ground like this?

The countless weekends spent learning first-aid as a Scout instantly spring to mind - searching for what I need to be doing next. Recovery position. Right! I need to put him the recovery position before he chokes on his own saliva.

Roll him on the side; one arm under his head; the other stretched for support; bend the top leg for added support.

He’s regaining consciousness. The crowds have started to gather. He looks bewildered.

“I think he overheated. He’s hot.” Says someone in the crowd that has come to help me. They ask an employee for a glass of water.

“You’re sister is coming for you,” says his friend who is standing behind the crowd.

The kid looks embarrassed. He quickly drinks the water and starts to stand up as if attempting to prove to everyone that everything is ok and we can go on with our lives.

“How about we help you to a chair,” I say as the manager arrives to help.

The kid recedes to a booth with his friend and immediately pulls out his cell to phone someone – probably his sister. The manager and a few other employees start to talk to him. I return to line. The kid doesn’t need yet another person standing around gawking.

As I’m standing in line ordering the food, I’m replaying the events. My heart is still racing. I berate myself for all the things I should have done: I spent too much time thinking; I should have taken charge of the situation more so; I should have been the one Johnny-on-the spot and asking for water; I should have been the one asking his friend to call for help. On the other hand, things did work out. Other people filled the gaps of my ineptitude and the kid is all right now.

Perhaps I’m too harsh on myself. But I remember another situation many years ago where some friends and I were out camping and we had an incident. Sam, who was a lifeguard for several years, immediately took charge of the situation and very rapidly instructed people and had a plan in action before I was even registering the incident in my own brain. I need to be more like Sam – especially in emergency situations.

I think my first priority is to get my first-aid and cpr upgraded and get this stuff drilled further in my head. Maybe next time I’ll be thinking faster.

Can someone tell me who the sick bastard was that thought singing the "Muffin Man" was a good song for children?
Fact: Drury Lane was known for its prostitutes and brothels in 18th century England.
Fact: "muffin" is slang.

So, let's all sing the song now with our new found insight:

Do you know the muffin man? The muffin man. The muffin man.
Do you know the muffin man that lives on Drury Lane.
...
Yes, I know the muffin man. The muffin man. The muffin man.
Yes, I know the muffin man who lives on Drury Lane.
...
We all know the muffin man. The muffin man. The muffin man.
We all know the muffin man who lives on Drury Lane.

WTF?!
Thank you livinginthegray for ruining my childhood memories.

The recent death of Rosa Parks has caused the world to stop and reflect on the injustices that have happened barely 50 years ago. My blood boils every time I read stories like those of Rosa Parks'. Last year I had a hard time reading Uncle Tom's cabin for this very same reason. I cannot comprehend what kind of person would think that harassing, abusing, insulting and other wise devaluing another person is somehow right, permissible, or sanctioned by “god”.  When I read Rosa's story, I want to reach into the newspaper, reach through time and space and beat the tar out of those white-policemen and bus passengers or at least shake some sense into them.

Eight years ago, my best friend confided in me that he was gay. I felt sick to my stomach.  Not because of my conservative, fundamentalist Christian upbringing; but because of how I may have unknowingly hurt my friend. How many gay bashing jokes had I laughed at? How many homophobic comments had I made?

We were young.

Time has passed.

We have drifted.

Over these years I have struggled to shed myself of the fundamentalism that I grew up with. You see, even though I may have felt ashamed at that time for my past actions, it didn't really sink into my pneuma (essence). In the years that followed, I said some pretty stupid things and some pretty hurtful things to my friend - all the while trying to wrestle religious convictions and my friendship.

Last year, while I was in San Francisco for a Java conference, I had the opportunity to observe a gay pride parade. As I was leaving, preparing to do some tourism, I saw a man burning a small rainbow flag. When the flames started to lick his fingers he dropped the burning rainbow and ground it into the pavement with his heal. I was disgusted and enraged at this man's disdain towards the homosexual community.

As I reflect on all of this, I realise that this was the kind of person that my western religious convictions were training me to be: a self-righteous homophobe. I was becoming like those white bus passengers in 1955. This makes me sick. 

Rosa: may I learn from you that all life is valuable and that injustice should not be tolerated. May I learn from you that freedom and equality are virtues, not vices. May I teach my children these lessons and help build a better world for generations to come.