atgatg's Journal

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More thoughts on the campus atheist PR
I suspect there is a niche for a vibrant grassroots "spiritual atheism", mostly free of institutions. This would be distinct (though not disjoint) from most existing atheist groups and churches. Some flavors of Buddhism probably fit the bill, as do some other humanistic religions. But growing this sort of culture and belief system isn't at all trivial. Even grassroots movements require some sort of infrastructure and funding. If we're talking about a system to habituate practices, norms, and beliefs, then how are these propagated? Humans have done this through stories and rituals. But stories and rituals can lead to dogma. I have thought that the Genesis story could be interpreted as a beautiful, subtle allegory: the tree of knowledge made us mortal. (We were mortal before tasting the fruit, but what was significant was the dawning of awareness of the mortality). It is a story consistent with my science-rooted (a)theology. But instead, the story is almost universally interpreted instead as the foundation for "original sin" and creationism -- two things I adamantly disbelieve. If, in fact, an early religious genius told this allegory with profound insights in mind, they succeeded in passing the shell of the story down, but mostly failed in conveying the more profound meaning. Of course, maybe this was *only* ever a creation myth; my point is just that subtlety is easily lost in transmission; and pedantic statement of belief often falls flat. I had some hopes when I first stumbled on this web site (Iowa-grown, interestingly enough) ... but it seems to be isolated and inactive. Maybe I am looking in the wrong places though. This new grassroots movement will come in some other guise. Maybe we should instead be looking at the new environmentalism, in its many forms? Or in many, many places? Reason vs. dogma: which wins over time?

National coverage for "Ask an Atheist."
A friend from church and from work came in today and told me to type his name into Google News. That pulled up 212 fresh news articles. He and the campus student atheist group (of which Andrew was the president until he started as a postdoc with us last year) were profiled in an AP story -- which has been picked up by venues from the Washington Post to Fox and ABC.

The local UU also gets a plug, at least obliquely. "Bodnar, an ex-Catholic married to a Buddhist, recommends the local Unitarian Universalist congregation, a haven for a grab bag of religious backgrounds and a few members of the ISU Atheist and Agnostic Society." I'd like to see the intersection of the two groups grow. It was nice this year that both groups sponsored teams for Reggie's Sleepout (a fundraiser for homeless youth).

In general, I'd like to see more of this sort of intersection -- that is, spiritual atheists having more opportunity for common observance of the significant, and more time for organized "good works"; and traditional churchgoers having more space for nonbelief. For both, I would wish tolerance for differing degrees and varieties of belief. Some fraction of churchgoers (in any denomination) must be atheists or agnostics, feeling uncomfortable and "in the closet" in their church of habit. And a good fraction of those who shun church must feel some significant spirituality -- maybe also with some discomfort at having few ways to express or share or articulate the feelings. Neither group should have to be in the closet.

Guest essay
I am happy to post an essay from a special guest: Mom!

The start:
"Why," I've been asking myself lately, "do I feel as if I've been kicked hard in the solar plexus? Why do I feel sad and helpless, when my life is blessed and these autumn days have been so arrestingly beautiful?" One answer I found came by way of re-reading of Lincoln's Second Inaugural address to a war-torn nation. I found myself struck by Lincoln's closing admonition: "With malice toward none; with charity for all..." Even with brother fighting against brother, Lincoln urged healing, "binding up the nation's wounds".

"Malice," I realized, "that's it!” It's the pervasive climate of malice in our country, the malice and mean-spiritedness and vitriol in politics that so oppress me.

( Read more )

Birthday
A few noteworthy things today. (Saying nothing of the afternoon's news of "12 Dead, 31 Wounded in Base Shootings").

1. In the mail this morning: "As the manuscript '...' by Dr ... and co-authors is likely to be accepted for publication in Nature, we would like to confirm that the address details we hold on file for you and your co-authors are correct."

2. Left work early to use the unicycle on the actual Day. I strapped it to my bike (laid it flat on the rear pannier, and the seat post running horizontally along the bike's top tube), and we went up to Ada Hayden lake. I made it all the way around the short loop -- maybe a mile and a half. Also, my first un-assisted mount without a post or friend to hang on to. Thighs are burning now.

3. E made a lovely birthday cake: poppy-seed, with lots of chia seeds added at my request. They are interesting: a little like small tapioca balls, after the seed coat has imbibed.

On my birthday present!
Thank you, Mom and Dad! Makes me feel like a toddler again ...

Our list goes to 11
We live on a busy street, but the house also overlooks a draw or ravine that leads to the Squaw Creek drainage. That means we get a lot of wildlife coming up through the yard. That sometimes makes me happy, and sometimes not so happy. Today we counted the kinds of mammals (not domestic ones) that we've seen in the yard this year.
1. Deer. They prefer to stay in the valley, but do seem to wander up in the late winter, looking for things like roses to munch on.
2. Groundhog. They started marauding the garden a month an a half ago: digging under the fence to get at the carrots, munching through the parsley, knocking down the swiss chard. They are surprisingly fast and agile for their size and shape (same body plan as a badger, and about 15 lbs). They prompted us to get a live trap. I caught the first one, which had set up residence in a burrow at the edge of the ravine, about three weeks ago. The second required setting a trap right outside a burrow under the neighbor's deck. One groundhog took a trip with us upriver about a mile, and the second one went with us a couple miles out of town. Last week, I saw a dead groundhog on the road, a couple blocks from where I had deposited the first one. I have to wonder if it wasn't trying to get back home to "its garden."
3. Raccoon. We caught one in the live trap two weeks ago, when I was trying to catch the groundhog(s).
4. Skunk. Fortunately, we haven't caught a skunk (not this year, anyway -- though we caught a baby last year with a borrowed live trap -- and released it *very carefully*). One did walk by our window around midnight last week, though, the smell waking me from a sound sleep.
5. Opossum. We tried growing "sugar baby" watermelons in a big pot on our second-floor balcony. Just as two of them ripened in August, hanging from the wire of the balcony railing, we woke one morning to find both of them half-eaten down on the ground below. The chief suspect: opossum. Since then, the live trap caught a momma two weeks ago, and then two youngsters last week. They are neat animals: dexterous "hands", with pink hairless fingers, on both front and rear legs. I kind of like them, so I released them just down in across the river. They can come back if they really really want to.
6. Ground squirrel. These are cute, athletic, active little guys, with stripes on their backs, and cheeks that they can stuff full of food. Fairly fearless. They make holes here and there in the garden, but haven't been a nuisance so far.
7. Squirrel.
8. Mouse. I actually kind of like mice. They are amazingly athletic. The ones in our house are able to jump about three feet vertically -- as I found last year when one jumped from the floor into a bowl of Halloween candy, as we were waiting for trick or treeters to come around. I'd have loved to have handed out a mouse, but it jumped out before the next batch of kids came around. Nevertheless, it does become tiresome finding the mouse poops where we don't really want poops. There has been a distinct mouse population bloom this fall, and they come inside as the weather cools. So, we've had an active trapping program in the last month. A metal live-trap box thing works the best so far. I drop them off in a field on the way to work, hoping that they'll make a good snack for foxes (which we haven't seen in the yard, but have down by the creek). Maximum catch in one night: seven. (That's *not* typical, Mom! And they *never* get on the guest bed!)
9. Vole. I hadn't seen one until this morning. One was dead on the driveway -- maybe dropped by an owl? It looks much like a mouse, but with solid gray coloring, and a much shorter tail.
10. Mole. We haven't actually seen these, but their tunnels are all through the lawn. We assume they are doing good work: aerating the soil and hunting down the Japanese Beetle grubs and other such things. So moles are welcome here.
11. Rabbits. Cute, but not welcome here. Found a nest of babies in the yard next door last spring. Tiny, soft little things, warm in my hands as I carried them down across the river.

Dance
While I'm posting (and catching up): another item.

Last night we went to our first Iowa barn dance. For all that I think of myself as more athletic than the average person, and serviceably smart, I have to think twice before deciding which is my left foot. E is the same. So we never expected to find ourselves doing contra dances -- let alone enjoying it. But we did. Why did we go? Peer pressure. Lonna was calling the dance. She was very good, leading us and the other newcomers through what seemed (to us, anyway), pretty complicated patterns in the line dance.

I can see why the barn dance was an institution here in the midwest (and in Utah, for that matter). It is a chance for staid, stolid, rhythmically-challenged, generally conservative folk to move to music. And to meet new people, and smile, and even touch other people. The people in this crowd ranged from teens to 70s. Footwear ranged from sneakers to cowboy boots to bare feet. Body type: lean and athletic, to frankly fat. Some looked straight off the farm, with suspenders and boots. Hair styles included a mohawk.

The dancing is in in tightly choreographed patterns. Although the contra dance patterns are complicated, they are made up of a small number of moves, and the patterns are repeated over and over through the dance. And the caller cues each transition and step. I think we'll do it agin.

Milestones: the last tree, and remembering Michelle.
September has been a month to catching up and recuperate for me. Although the summer has been pleasant and full, it hasn't been without strain: some papers to finish; a conference; some lectures to prepare and give; a large new project to start with collaborators in New Mexico; some administrative tasks. The trip to Utah in mid-August was unusually nice (family time, a hike to Mt. Naomi, two trips to skate at the Olympic oval), but also coincided with submission of the highest-profile paper I have been involved with. We returned, after ten days, to a backlog of work. So, in the month since, I have spent more time trying to wrap up projects and less time initiating them. I've cut back a little on recreation and social events -- skipping some skating sessions, some pot lucks, some church services, some interesting-sounding lectures. In the spirit of "wrapping things up," we've spent good parts of the the last two weekends de-junking the house and garage, weeding, organizing. We've also changed some patterns of our days. We have been going to bed earlier and rising earlier. To bed by nine or sometimes even 8:30, and rising at 4:30 or 5.

This morning, I considered taking the time to try to bring one more paper near completion. I decided, though, to go to Service. And, on the way, to plant "the last tree." Having just done that, I decided to report that as a "milestone" to the congregation. And, since this service was about mental illness, I also also spoke a remembrance of the loss of a friend whose life was shaped by mental illness. Each service begins, after a brief welcome, with a time for "milestones," during which people are invited to share something significant with the group. It might be to relay news of a death or illness, or instead to mark an anniversary or accomplishment. I don't easily share things in that context, so it was significant that I did so today. Here's what I told about (though I did so very briefly, and with some difficulty -- especially on the second item).

From last winter through early spring, I accumulated about 60 nut trees: chestnuts and hazelnuts from Badgersett Farm in Minnesota, chestnuts from Redfern Farm in southern Iowa, chestnut seedlings from Joe McPhail's grandfather, seedlings that Mom and Dad sent from the hazels in the yard in Logan. All of these were the results of breeding efforts to produce more disease-resistant trees: the hazels from Logan were bred by a colleague of Grandpa's from Cornell; and the chestnuts from Badgersett and Redfern are crosses of American, Asian, and European stock, bred to resist chestnut blight. Last fall, I was particularly impressed by the taste of the chestnuts. They are very sweet, and dense and chewy. I took baked chestnuts with me as a snack on a trip to Arizona in November. They are simply good food.

Trees are also a kind of particularly beneficial perennial agriculture. Permaculture. They require no plowing or yearly planting. These particular crops should require no spraying. They are time-consuming to gather and shell; but gathering nuts in the fall should be a pleasant thing: something that one can do while appreciating the air and looking at fall leaves. A less idyllic thought also provided motivation: living here in the heart of fossil fuel-driven agriculture, we may be in for a world of hurt in a decade or so, when gasoline prices go through the roof. I don't know the form in which disaster might strike, but it won't be a bad thing to have some perennial food sources growing in public commons areas.

Anyway, from late winter through today, I have been planting and giving away these young trees. I have lost track of all the locations, but half a dozen went to Linda ad High Hopes Farms; another half a dozen went to Onion Creek Farm; we planted another dozen+ at the Student Organic Farm; I planted 16 in the public right of way along the Rail to Trail south of Slater; and about 20 went into an abandoned strip of university-owned land north of campus: one that is, interestingly, highly accessible by foot or bike to students, but which has no motorized access points, despite being bordered by a busy road.

To plant most of the trees, I loaded up our bike trailer with saplings, water containers, potting soil (at least for the main planting area, where I was planting into road fill), wire mesh (to wrap the trees to keep away deer and mice), and shovel and digging fork. Then I bike to the site, dig the holes, plant the trees, cage them, and add labels with, for example, "trees for the future: chestnut".

I planted the last of the trees -- a hazelnut -- this morning, on the way to the service. That was the first milestone.

For the second milestone, I was only able to say this: "on the topic of the service today, I would like to remember a very close friend of mine, Michelle Tallmadge, who, after about ten years of dealing with ritualistic sexual abuse from her early teens, took her life about this time of year. She was 23 when she died." I will add that she was smart, funny, pretty. I can't say why I didn't turn away from someone for whom life was going to end badly. It wasn't pity -- though I certainly wanted to help. She was always very close to the pain that she had inside, but also able to set that aside to be a good and fun companion. She loved walking and being outside. Came from a family that I liked and admired a great deal.

Brief July laundry list
12th - 17th: I was in Asilomar at the Model Legume Congress. This ranks among my favorite of conferences. Good science. Opportunity to talk lupins with Claire. Discovered two neat sand-adapted Lotus species with Shusei. The people the group have become friends over the last 10 years (the time that I have been in this field), and the place is wholely beautiful.

Last week: I had a cold, with slight uncertainty about whether it might be H1N1 (having picked it up in California, in a county where cases are continuing through the summer). So I worked from home (except for Tuesday, when I was mostly too sick to work. Feeling almost entirely better now though, except for a bit of a lingering cough.

Yesterday: I planted 6 chestnut trees on the strip of abandoned university property north of campus. In the afternoon, E & I went out to the student organic farm and marked locations for 8 more chestnuts that we'd like to donate, and 7 hazelnuts. And weeded, and picked potatoes, onions, shallots, crookneck squash. Evening: Sarah D's MS graduation and (almost) farewell party (she leaves in August to teach English in north-west China).

Today: E & I planted 6 more chestnut trees, then continued on to Service -- where Erv Klaus reported from the SLC General Assembly. Also, gave three chestnuts and 6 hazels to Linda Barnes (High Hopes Farm). This afternoon ... see the bike story, below.

Bikes move stuff
Last Sunday afternoon, we and about ten biker friends got together to move Sarah's household by bike trailer. Most of us had "Bikes at Work" trailers, designed and built by Jim Gregory here in town. More than anything, I think the motivation was to prove to ourselves (and lookers-on) how much bikes are capable of. This was a full house, with big items: several beds, dressers, book cases; a large futon; chairs and tables; etc. etc. It *all* went by bike. Most impressive was the king-size mattress and box springs (and exercise equiment on top).

I don't have pics posted, but you can see the group in action at the 4th of July parade, where we were pulling funky things: I had a small forest (trees: fig, coffee, banana, orange); Piper had two boats, stacked one on top of one another; E had vegetables and gardening implements loaded on bales of hay; etc.

Today, we did another move -- this time for Gina, another friend of the group's. (The sociality reminds me a little of a barn-raising). This move was even more challenging. It was a full house and garage, but this move had distance (probably three miles) and a hill (down into the Squaw Creek drainage along 13th, and back out, past our house. We had six bikes, and made the move in two trips. Surprisingly, these little trailers can take significantly more stuff that can be fit in a sedan. They may rival a small pickup -- at least for volume. If you can extend stuff fore and aft, and over the wheel covers, then the footprint is ~5' x 7' or more (depending on trailer length) -- and the stacking height is limited only by weight. The trailers can cary about 300 lbs.

I'm not sure how many more of these moves I want to do gratis (for the next one, we'll probably ask the move-ee to contribute a nice-sized donation to a bike- or social-justice cause), but the last two have been fun social occasions.

June logs
OK, then, I said I would post my semi-daily logs. 90% for myself, but possibly of occasional interest to friends or family. These are lightly scrubbed to protect the innocent.

( My June logs, last to first ... )

Post-less
No updates for close to two months: yeah, inexcusable. An excuse, though: flat-out swamped at work. Conference in California comes up in a week and a half. First, I have a talk and a poster to prepare. And a review paper to write. Another to co-write. Another, on which I am second author, will be submitted within the month. The journal? Nature : ) It has been mostly good-busy.

When/if I start writing again, I am considering shifting strictly to a near-daily laundry list of minutiae, interspersed with the rare novel thought. That would be sure to be less interesting to the occasional person stumbling by this spot; but, honestly, is what I write for myself in my weekly logs. It would make this kind of like what one might call a "live journal." Not a very lively one, but more than nothing. A log for me; and one that, incidentally, a lurker could occasionally use to check what I am doing.

bamboo bikes
A business for Zambia: building bamboo bike frames. They look cool, they dampen vibrations, they are tough, they use a local material, they provide jobs and income.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/8125274.stm

Life Without Cars (mostly)
Good read for today: NY Times article, In German Suburb, Life Goes on Without Cars.

We figure that we now put more total mileage on our bikes than on the car. That's even with most of our bike trips being under 2 miles. We just bike several times a day, and take the car only a few times a week (or not at all some weeks).

Some longer trips are unavoidable though. I had to go nearly to Des Moines today to get some hardware. But I wonder: if we had no car, we either could have had the parts delivered, or could have rented or borrowed a car. The mileage on the car would be the same, of course, but there is no essential reason to actually own the car. If demand increases for deliveries and car-sharing systems, the convenience should increase and the cost decrease.

Gardening (laundry list)
We've had a weekend of intensive gardening. Thursday evening after work we went to the student organic farm to water and help mulch. Our peas and shallots are up. Friday, we both took the day off work, as it was the first really warm day (85 F) of the season, and pretty, and rain was forecast Saturday and Sunday. I transplanted Lotus and lupine seedlings all along the median along 13th, and we moved the yard and a half of compost (delivered Thursday) into our six big plastic bins (the ones for the bike trailer). And I built the herring bone structure for another fence panel (one more to go). Also, errands: recycling, picking up pavers for new path. Saturday: light rain most of the day. We dumped prunings and brush (yard waste free day). Also, received poplar edging that will go in upstairs next week; we put that in the garage and sanded and varnished it. In the evening, I started the ~3' x 7' x 3-8' pit to permanently burry the largest figs and leave the top 1-3' canes above ground -- to be tipped and covered in the winter. After a successful experiment with a smaller fig last winter, I think this will work. Today, Sunday: 9 am service (thrilling Langston Hughes Players performed their four-act play). Then gardened most of the afternoon, into the rain (stopped once it started really pouring). Prepped the "driveway bed," and planted carrots, parsnips, and turnips. Also prepped the adjacent bed for zucchini, which we will cover with Remay. Then made our first all-our-garden salad of the season: the last two carrots, and a harvest of the turnip "microgreens," and radicchio from Sue's and Rick's garden (OK, not from ours, but close enough). Ate with Minh and Khe. Back to work in the morning...

Energy descent
Still on the topic of "energy descent", this counterintuitive idea today: Can the Oil Shock Alone Explain the Financial Crisis?, and discussion at Hacker News.

"Transition revolution"
The previous post was about our token "green" efforts. I ended it by saying they won't be worth that much when the shit really hits. A lot of people are privately aware of this, I think. We just can't bear to dwell on it, or even to try to think through what things may be like on a much hotter planet in 10 or 20 years, with much much less cheap energy, and a billion more people, and water (or lack of) displacing a few of those billions. Not to say that I *know* this is the future, but it is at least our likely future.

The two most hopeful things I have read recently are two articles in this week's New York Times Magazine. One was Why Isn't The Brain Green?, on the collective neuro-economics of decision-making about environmental problems. This was somewhat hopeful in that it provides some handles for understanding ways in which we are individually and collectively irrational. Understanding is good.

The second, and even more thought-provoking for me, was "The End Is Near! (Yay!)". This is about the "transition movement," http://transitionculture.org/ and http://www.transitiontowns.org/, with the idea that "Transition is about 'building resiliency' — putting new systems in place to make a given community as self-sufficient as possible, bracing it to withstand the shocks that will come as oil grows astronomically expensive, climate change intensifies and, maybe sooner than we think, industrial society frays or collapses entirely."

With that in mind, some of the things happening in Ames do make sense. No, they won't forestall the catastrophes. They are "practice." How much food can we grow locally? Can we get by with little or no use of the car? How little purchased "stuff" can we get by on? And by "we", I actually mean a lot of people around here. For example, I see more efforts at serious gardening and local food production, and more bike commuting, and I hear about more people trying to improve home energy efficiency. This all still seems like pretty small potatoes though. I would like to see more communities having serious, energetic discussions about managing their energy descent.

Happy(?) Earth Day
I just visited the top link from Google's Earth Day search: http://earthday.net/ . Nice site. I decided to register one of our "green" actions at the site, under the "A billion acts of green" project. I picked "green transportation," and said...

"My wife and I commute to work exclusively by bike. We are trying to do most shopping and local errands by bike. To help with this, we bought a Bikes At Work bike trailer, which we just used on Earth Day for our main grocery shopping trip."

In looking at the other categories, though, I realize we are at least trying to do something in each of the listed categories:
- energy savings (had the house reinsulated during reconstruction a year and a half ago)
- water savings (use a rain barrel for some of the garden watering, and have purchased a second)
- green transportation (above)
- locally grown food (we've turned most of the yards of both houses into garden, and added a 10' x 20' community plot this year at the Student Organic Farm, and will start another at the UU Fellowship)
- recycling (all plastic, glass, cardboard, plastic sacks, cans)
- reducing consumption (trying; share our city garbage can with the neighbors ...)
- educating family and friends (what this post is about, I guess)
- participating in an Earth Day event (manned the booth at the Student Organic Farm)
- other (this year's guerilla forestry: planting ~50 nut trees on public wasteland. And helping start "gardening circles" in the UU Fellowship.)

That said, this totally feels like peanuts. When we hit $300/barrel gas, and start experiencing energy blackouts during hotter summers, and global commodity food prices spike because of energy costs, no one will be spared. I can feel smug now doing the "right" things, but it doesn't really matter unless most people join in. I suppose the standard economic line is that people and technologies will respond with the right incentives. What worries me is that the "incentives" (price shocks, energy and food shortages) will hit so hard that they will simply break systems rather than inducing smooth, rational economic responses.

I hold some hope that decent proportions of people in some regions will show some foresight, and at least try to prepare. I think that's what these "gardening circles" are about this year in Ames, and the increasing number of (locally-made) "Bikes at Work" trailers I see around town, etc. People are trying. Which brings up the next post ...

barefoot
I read an article today that says that there is no evidence that running shoes reduce foot or leg injuries. The idea is that running shoes encourage an unnatural heal strike rather than forefoot strike; the heal strike induces a deceleration on with each landing, which puts extra strain on the leg joints. And, plenty of people do just fine running barefoot. It's what we've evolved to be able to do.

So, after dinner I took off my shoes and ran to work to pick up some paperwork. It was delightful! I think my calves will be sore tomorrow, because I almost never run. I almost never run because I get ITB pain in my left knee after about a mile. We'll see. After the 3 miles just run, no ITB pain.