Reading a great bear book

The other day, I picked up a rather interesting book at Borders. The book is Among the Bears and is written by Benjamin Kilham and Ed Gray — though I get the impression that Gray’s contribution was more editorial while the bulk of the content is Kilham’s. It’s a fascinating story about Kilham’s experiences rehabilitating wildlife cubs near his New Hampshire home.

The book starts with the story of LG and LB (short for “Little Girl” and “Little Boy” respectively), two cubs whose mother abandoned them before they even left the natal den. LG and LB were the first bear cubs that Kilham is asked to care for. Kilham relates his experiences how he worked through the process with very little information to go on — and the looming knowledge that no one had yet managed to rehabilitate black bear cubs to the point of being able to successfully returning them to the wild. In the process, he makes some fascinating discoveries about black bear behavior and the development of cubs.

Currently, I’m only on chapter 5 and into Kilham’s first summer with LG and LB. So in the great scheme of things, I haven’t read but a small part of the story. I still have the rest of his experiences with LG and LB as well as the subsequent cubs he’s raised to read about. But if the rest of the book is like the chapters I’ve read so far — and I suspect there may be even bigger discoveries ahead — it will be a most interesting book.

As an aside, I’d like to point out the idiot who gave this book a bad review on Amazon. This is clearly a case of someone brainlessly adopting a cause without understanding the issues. Which is a shame, because it’s quite clear that they were so focused on their anti-hunting rhetoric that they missed an excellent opportunity to learn about the animals they claim to love.

Rochester Pagan Pride 2006

Saturday, I spent the day at the Rochester Pagan Pride Festival. I had an absolutely wonderful time, and look forward to going again in the future.

Most of the day, I spent hanging out with Wendy and her friends. She was kind enough to let me put out a few fliers for the POC on her table. Quite a few people ended up taking them. With any luck, that means we’ll see some new faces real soon.

I didn’t attend many workshops, as I was having too much fun talking with friends and what-not. The one that I did manage to attend was the Crystal Singing Bowl meditation, led by the good folks from Singing Bowl Expressions. I’ve been to one of the monthly meditations that Dawn and Jeff hold at Psychic’s Thyme before. While I certainly enjoyed my experience there, it paled in comparison to the demonstration at Pride this year. This workshop involved ten different bowls, each vibrating at their own frequency. While I was not one of the many people who immediately found themselves out of their body, I could certainly feel my own energy channels responding to the experience. I also remember opening my eyes a couple of times and realizing I couldn’t focus my vision. It was an incredibly rewarding experience.

I also got a book on Pagan ethics that Patricia Telesco recently wrote under another pen name. As Ms. Telesco was one of the invited speakers at the festival (and I bought the book directly from her), I had the chance to discuss it with her. I told her about my desire to do some research and planning over the next year and put together a local workshop on Pagan ethics. She was quite happy about the idea and encouraged me. I also shared with her about my blog entry concerning the line in the Charge of the Goddess that declares “all acts of love and pleasure” to be rites of the Goddess. She paid me a rather high compliment in regards to how I approached that line and the sentences surrounding it. It was rather encouraging.

I think the person who impressed me most at the festival, however, was someone I never actually got the opportunity to speak to. That’s the young man, Adam, who stood about ten to fifteen feet from the entrance to the festival, handing out Christian tracts to anyone who would take them. According to one of the organizers I spoke with later, Adam is a regular “attendee” of Rochester Pagan Pride. And I think he deserves a great deal of credit for the level of respect he showed. Despite Adam’s obvious disagreement with the religious views of most of the festival goers and his desire to “save” us, he was able to offer his message in a rather unobtrusive way. He was alwas polite when people refused his tracts (strangely, he never actually offered me one) and never attempted to start an argument. I can totally respect the way he chose to demonstrate his convictions.

In a mostly unrelated topic, I’d just like to say that my friend, Becky, also thinks that the guy who waited on me at the sub shop we bought lunch at was interested in me. I’m not sure I agree with her, but it was kind of nice to entertain the notion. I just wish that if he really were interested in me, he’d have said something.

Vacation Pictures: Shrimping Tour

I’m still here in Mississippi, enjoying a nice time with family and a well-earned vacation from work. Today, we decided to take it easy and laze about the house. About the most taxing thing I did all day was play a game of checkers with my nephew, Liam.

However, I still need to write about yesterday afternoon’s shrimping experience. After the kids got done playing at Lynn Meadows, we loaded everyone back into the van and headed to the beach to catch the Biloxi Shrimping Trip aboard the Sailfish. This is a tour where the elderly, eccentric, and entirely lovable captain of the small vessel takes people out just a short distance from the shore, drags a small shrimping net for twenty minutes, and then goes through the catch to point out the various aquatic life he caught. The captain gives you a bit of information about the Mississippi shriming industry in the process. It was an enjloyable experience, and I thought I’d share some pictures.

First, we have a picture of the boat as you approach it:

The interior has a number of interesting sea artifacts and educational information:

Notice the small “gift shop” area in the far corner. There were plenty of postcards, tee shirts, baseball caps, and other assorted items to purchase.

Except while the net is dragging, the captain spends his time standing on the aft platform, either going through the haul or working on letting out or hauling in the net:

As the net drags along behind, the seagulls gather in hopes of a free meal:

Once the net is pulled in, the captain dumps the catch into his work area:

Notice the stingray in the middle of the picture. This was probably one of the most notable animals in this catch.

As he’s picking up various species of fish, the captain dumps many of them into the aquarium for display purposes:

About five minutes before we reach dock, the captain will dump the contents of the aquarium back into the gulf.

Of course, the captain never forgets the seagulls. All through the demonstration, he occasionally tosses a fish up to them. And when he’s done sorting through the fish on the deck, he will scoop the remaining ones up with a shovel and toss them into the air and overboard, just to create a great opportunity to catch a seagull feeding frenzy on film:

If you’re ever in the Biloxi area, I strongly recommend you check out this experience for yourself. The captain is an excellent showman and the educational aspects of the trip are rather interesting.

Vacation Pictures: Lynn Meadows

This morning, Stephanie and I took the kids to Lynn Meadows Discovery Center. The kids got to run from section to section, playing and having a good time. I took my camera and got a lot of great pictures. There are too many to post here, but I thought I’d post some of my favorites.

I’ll start by introducing each niece and nephew as they got dressed up in the one sections. Alyssa went for the southern belle look:

Kyra, on the other hand, decided to go with the grieving widow look:

The white hat somewhat ruined the look, but she eventually found a more appropriate black hat of a similar style.

Liam made a dashing young man, though now amount of fancy clothes can hide his inner imp completely:

Of course, fancy clothes didn’t work much for hiding Warren’s inner imp, either:

Before he was fully dressed, I snapped this picture of Warren because the oversized hat just made him look like a homeless boy in nineteenth centry London (or at least the stereotypical image):

Can’t you just see him stopping you on the street and asking you for a bit of loose change?

After getting dressed up, Kyra and Warren went over to the nearby hotel desk to check in:

They also had a small room with a “green screen” set up. The center of the room had a kayak the kids could get in. Here’s a picture of Kyra:

And here’s the image that appeared on the television screen outside the room:

I later found out there was a large LCD television in the room so the kids could see the image too. I snapped a picture of Liam on this screen, and got a classic look:

One of the last sections we visited at the Discovery Center was the section set up like a small seaport. All the kids decided to play at being longshoremen. Here’s a picture of crane operators Liam and Kyra:

Alyssa and Warren were in the ship hanging cargo on the crane’s hook:

From this picture, I can only assume that Alyssa was the foreman of the operation:

And here’s a final picture of three of the little hard workers. Doesn’t Warren look cute in his hard hat?

Mississippi Vacation

I’m sitting here in my sister’s computer room in Mississippi. Due to a lag-time between projects at work, I have at least a week off. Fortunately, I knew this early enough and was able to buy relatively cheap plane tickets down to visit my sister’s family. After all, I haven’t been to visit since they’ve moved down here to Biloxi.

Mississippi is actually a pretty nice place. So far, I’ve even been fortunate in that it hasn’t been too hot or humid. Bill actually asked me if I had packed all the dry air into my suitcase, because the humidity has been relatively low here since I arrived.

It’s always a joy to spend time with my nieces and nephews. Warren and Liam have both been tackling me every chance they get. And even Kyra occasionally finds her way into my lap. Alyssa’s happy to see me, though she doesn’t have quite the need for the physical affection that her younger siblings have. To be honest, I think she’d rather read a book. This makes her a girl after my own heart, of course.

Tomorrow, we’re going on the shrimping boat tour. I plan on taking my camera with me. As long as I remember, I should have some pictures to post later this week.

Musings on the Tarot: Robin Wood’s Devil

I’m a bit of a tarot fan. I’ve collected a number of decks, as I find the artwork and the symbolism the artist puts into their interpretations. One of my all time favorite decks is The Robin Wood Tarot, named after its creator, artist and illustrator Robin Wood. Her deck has some absolutely beautiful artwork in it, and is an excellent blending of the symbolism traditionally (at least in the tradition of A.E. Waite and the Golden Dawn) associated with the tarot and her own ideas.

One of the cards in which Ms. Wood chose to go away from the traditional symbolism was major arcana card, The Devil. (A picture of this card from her deck can be found on the page linked to in the previous paragraph.) Whereas this card traditionally shows a demonic figure towering over two smaller figures in chains, Ms. Wood’s deck shows two individuals in a dark hallway or tunnel, holding onto a large chest. This card happens to be one of my favorite cards in this deck because it captures my own feelings about the underlying meanings of “The Devil” in tarot. This card takes the “devil” and transmutes it from being about being in bondage to an external figure to an inner condition of self-imposed bondage.

If you look at the card closely, you will notice that the only thing truly in bondage in this picture is the chest that the figures are holding onto. In reality, the two individuals are completely free. At any moment, they could choose to let go of the chest and walk boldly into the daylight, escaping their “prison.” And yet, they do not do this. Instead, they hold on to the chest, not willing to let it go.

The chest is partly open, showing its treasures inside. It is undoubtedly these treasures — and the figures’ desire for them — that keep the “prisoners” in place. Their desire for riches and treasures prove greater than their desire for freedom, so they hold their place. Indeed, their desire for the treasure has probably convinced them that they themselves are in bondage, not recognizing their own complicity in their situation.

This message is further enhanced when you examine the chest itself. Its visible surfaces are covered in depictions of the primitive “monkey trap.” This “trap” is nothing more than a coconut with a small hole drilled into it. Food is stuffed into the whole and the coconut is afixed so that it cannot be moved. When a monkey finds the coconut, it discovers the food. In its greedy hunger, the monkey will slip its hand through the hole in the coconut and seize the food. However, when it attempts to pull its hand back out, the hole proves too small to allow the monkey to extricate its prize-laden fist back out. Despite being frustrated by the trap, the monkey’s greed for the food will keep it from releasing its prize and extricating itself from the trap. Indeed, the monkey will remain their, grasping its prize in frustration until the trapper comes to check the trap. Even while being killed, the monkey will resolutely hang onto its prize.

In this way, the chest in the card loudly proclaims its own nature to its “captives.” But their greed blinds them to this, and they remain as “trapped” as the pictured monkeys.

Of course, like all tarot cards, there is a danger in reading this card too literally. Not all “treasures” have monetary value. Nor do all traps of this nature have physical bait. In reality, there are many things — be they memories, relationships, or past experiences — in our lives which we may be better off leaving behind. However, in some way, we believe ourselves to need them — or at least to be better off with them. So we hold on to them, enduring whatever bondage they may hold us in. In time, we find ways to ignore the trap, or at least cease associating our choice to cling to the “treasure” with the resultant “bondage.”

Robin Wood’s card, “The Devil” reminds us to be mindful of these “traps.” It calls us to ask ourselves if there is something we would be better off letting go of if it means increased freedom or peace.

Thoughts on the recent “Older Brother” study by Anthony Bogaert

I originally wrote this for Writers On The Loose. I decided to cross-post it here to my own blog.

Yesterday, Zjabs wrote a column in which he linked to an L.A. Times article about a study suggesting a link between birth order amongst males born to the same mother and the probability that each male would be gay. Given my own recent column on the origins of sexual orientation, I thought it appropriate to take a closer look at the study. To that effect, I did a Google search and found a reprint of the researcher’s own write-up on the study. I would encourage anyone who is interested in this topic at all to take the time to read this more scientific article, as it provides a lot more details and gives more clarity as to exactly what conclusions can and can not be reached from this study.

To that effect, I think that Ms. Kaplan, the author of the L.A. Times article, has done the study a great disservice. In the very first part of the article, she suggests, “A mother’s antibodies may change with each boy, raising chances the next will be homosexual.” In including this statement in her article at the outset, Ms. Kaplan gives the impression that this is the conclusion reached in Bogaert’s study. This is entirely untrue. While it is true that Bogaert mentions this possibility, he also makes it clear that this is merely speculation on one possible explanation behind the real conclusion of his study. Indeed, Bogaert indicates that there is no direct evidence at this time to support maternal antibodies as a contributing factor in sexual orientation. So in this sense, Ms. Kaplan has run out ahead of the scientists she is talking about.

To be clear, Bogaert’s study is simply a statistical analysis of data on four sample sets of men. The relevant data concerned ages of the participants’ mothers at the time of their birth, the number of older and younger siblings of each sex they had, and the amount of time they were reared with each sibling as children. The study also incidated whether each sibling was a “biological” sibling (birthed by the same mother) or a “non-biological” sibling. This data was run through a number of statistical analyses to see if there was any strong correlation between a number of factors and the sexual orientation of the men. The only strong correlation found was that, statistically speaking, men who had a large number of older biological brothers were more likely to be gay.

In order to further determine whether this correlation was due to prenatal factors involved in the birth order or some other factors (such as the number of brothers raised with), Bogaert included a number of other factors in his statistical analysis. Bogaert spends a good deal of time explaining the rationale he used in determing what factors to analyze in order to exclude post-natal explanations, and I would direct everyone to his write-up for that information rather than trying to reproduce it here. I will say, however, that I found his approach rather thorough.

It is important to understand that what Bogaert’s analysis shows is that (1) there is an apparent link between birth order amongst biological brothers and the probability that each of them will be gay and (2) that link appears to be related to pre-natal factors (such as the speculation about the mother’s antibodies during pregnancy) rather than post-natal ones (such as childrearing factors or the psychological effects of interractions between brothers). It in no way casts any light on the subject of what that pre-natal factor (or factors, as there’s no reason to assume there’s only one factor involved). Indeed, Bogaert indicates that this is an area of research for other people — most likely those in the fields of biology and chemistry — and even cites some research being done in that area.

Bogaert’s statistical analysis itself will need to be examined more closely and duplicated. Most likely, further such analyses will need to be done to expand this study and address any gaps or methodological errors in it. Indeed, this study itself is a follow-up study of a previous one Bogaert had done along the same lines. So any attempt to read this particular study as “final proof” would be a tragic misunderstanding of the research process. Nonetheless, this study is vital in that it strongly indicates a valuable area for further research.

My first meditation

Last Tuesday, I led the weekly meditation at the POC for the first time. Well, that’s not entirely true. I was the de facto leader back on 11 July, the first night we ever held the weekly meditation group. However, I “cheated” that night and just played a CD of soft music, allowing everyone to meditate on their own. Last week was the first time that I actually took a more active role and led the group through a guided meditation. I found a written out meditation online that a group had posted after using it as a part of their Lammas ritual in a previous year, and printed it out to use.

I have to admit that it was somewhat of a frightening experience. While I have had a decent amount of experience meditating on my own and have even participated in a guided meditation, I had never acted as the leader in such a setting. To be honest, earlier that Tuesday, I sat at my desk asking myself why I let Michele and Belinda ever talk me into doing this.

But I rose to the challenge, set aside my own worries about my lack of experience and did what needed to be done. And the meditation turned out pretty good that night. I wouldn’t say I did a perfect job, but I managed to perform well enough that everyone seemed to appreciate the experience. Two of those attending even commenting that it was the perfect meditation for them to go through due to the things they were dealing with in their own lives.

What a relief! It’s comforting to know that I will be okay with this. I feel more confident that I will do okay when my turn to lead the group rolls around again. I know that things will go fine. I know that I’m ready to take on this and other responsibilities, despite my insecurities.

All the same, I’m glad that ?thon is in charge of tomorrow night’s meditation.

Revelation About Writing

The following is an excerpt from a special journaling project I’ve started:

It wasn’t until Serenity and Zech came along that I received enough encouragement to truly develop my inner writer. I had written a little at the end of college — mostly to help myself cope with my coming out struggles — and those two eventually got me to share. They both loved it and encouraged me to push myself further. I became more confident and open to showing others my work.

Thinking back, I better understand why I chose to put my pen down for so long after they hurt and abandoned me. They had built up my writing so much, it felt like they took it all back when they turned.

Of course, I know that’s not true now. My writing is something that comes from within me, and is therefore not something they could take from me — nor can anyone else. They could only take away their support. But now, I know I don’t need it (and never did). I only need to connect to the writer within. He’s al I need. I’m all I need. I can be my own encouragement.

Coming to this realization tonight was liberating and empowering in a way that really surprised me. Suddenly, I found myself feeling a whole lot more inspired. In fact, I’m seriously considering starting a fiction project in the near future.

Remembering Juanita

I don’t think I could rightfully say what my first memory of Juanita was. She was someone that has always been a part of my life. When my parents first started taking me to the small American Baptist Church after I was born, she was there. She played the organ almost every Sunday.

I do remember that when I was older, I’d walk to the front of the sanctuary after many Sunday morning services and sit in the front pew just behind the organ. Juanita and I would talk as she continued to play the organ as people mingled and slowly filed out of the church. I think I was mesmerized by the way her fingers glided across the keys and her feet transitioned from pedal to pedal, making beautiful music.

In my twenties, when I bought a small keyboard (I had neither the money nor the space for a full sized piano), I sought Juanita to help me learn how to play. I’d practice on my keyboard and dutifully go to her house for my lessons. Some weeks, I’d bring my keyboard while other weeks, I took my lessons using her upright. We had a great time, joking, talking, and enjoying both the company and the music. I regretted quitting my lessons, but we both agreed that I was having too much trouble making the time for both practice and lessons.

After quitting my lessons and then leaving the church a year later, I didn’t see Juanita much. On occasion, our paths would cross as I’d go back to the little church to support family members who still attended. And the fact that her son, Tom, married one of my cousins gave rise to a few family occasions where we would see each other. On those occasions, we would greet one another with warm smiles and fond wishes.

Tomorrow, I’ll see Juanita one more time. This time, I will be paying my final respects. You see, Juanita lost her fight with cancer and passed away this past week. And a good number of us will miss her greatly. We’ll miss the music, love, and kindness she brought into this world on a regular basis.

But we will also remember her for these things. And we will remember that we are all better people for having known her. And hopefully, those memories will inspire us to emulate those traits we so admired in her. So in our sadness, we will also find warmth and joy.

After all, that’s how Juanita would’ve wanted it.

The thoughts of a gay witch living in upstate New York.