To Keep From Crying I Started To Sing

Alone In The Woods Of Cape Breton
July 24, ˜82


Saying goodbye to Mike left me empty. I could not shake my melancholy,
and coupled with the thought that my father would not greet me upon my
return home depressed me severely. He had died last year. My defense
mechanism kicked in, though. To keep from crying I started to sing. I
sang morning, afternoon, and on into the evening—until my voice gave
out. That kind of emotional intensity brought with it a very high
level of sensitivity. The scenery became animated. In Cape Breton the
scenery was beautiful anyway, but with my heightened sensitivity, it
jumped out at me. Even though I had bicycled through the same area
only three or four days ago, and the sun was shining to boot, I was
now experiencing the mountains, inlets, bays, creeks, streams, and
rivers in a totally different way. Everything was absolutely gorgeous.
I was still depressed, tired, and wet, but somehow that whole
experience had become sublime!

I'm alone now, in the woods, listening to the pitter-patter of rain
on my tent, with an ache in my stomach that won't go away. Mike and I
are physically, as well as mentally apart, and I am sad because of it.
This feeling of emptiness is not strange. "Breaking up is hard to do,"
isn't that what the song says? Am I really breaking up with Mike? Am I
in love with him? Was I in love with him all along? Is this why I
can't sleep? Love is not a dirty word, is it? I love Mike. There, I've
said it. It's in writing; I can see it. I feel better. Don't ask me
why. I just do. The pain of separation is less now. Don't ask me why.
I don't know. The distance remains; I can't change that, but
boundaries do not contain love. Mike is a beautiful person. Maybe less
beautiful then he used to be (I am to), but love isn't that fickle.
Out of a sense of loss, one suffers, but love survives. It's
ubiquitous. As the breath of the universe, love penetrates all.
Wounded lovers look to the healing powers of time, but love,
unconditional love for sure, renders time meaningless. The divine
becomes Divine through love; and I am its witness. Sweet dreams, Mike.
We'll be together again. I'm sure of it. Goodbye—and thanks!

July 26

Yesterday, when I arrived back in Antigonish, I found a note attached
to the bulletin board. Bill was known for his planning abilities, so I
wasn't surprised to find a note informing me that he would be in on
the one-o’clock train. I was looking forward to seeing him. I was also,
however, a little uncertain about biking all the way back to Michigan
with him. Time would tell on that one.

After borrowing a map, I figured my route and I will have to average
72 miles a day for the next 25 days in order to get back to Michigan
on schedule. Probably that is an unrealistic figure, but it is
certainly something to strive for. And, that bit of information will
help me impress upon Bill that I am not into unnecessary delays.

I'm presently sitting in the Antigonish youth hostel. I just had a
nice chat with two young ladies from France who are backpacking
Canada. Last night I took in a movie—The Road Warrior. That was fun,
and now I feel rested and clean, and am ready to meet Bill. I'm kind
of excited.

Marry Ann Falls, Cape Breton

Cape Breton
July, ‘82

It rained hard during the night but my tent kept me almost dry. In the
morning I backtracked to the bulletin board where I changed my message
to read—"I'm staying 7-21-82 at Mary Ann Falls. I will return
tomorrow." Some tourists told me that the falls were a must-see, so
after I posted the message, I went for coffee and breakfast; now,
however, its time to get back into the foggy goop.

July 22

I'm presently sitting upstream from the falls. You can hardly hear the
roar of the falls above the sounds of the babbling creek. I'm in front
of a blazing campfire drying out, with a hot cup of coffee in my hand.
After an almost five-mile walk on a gravel road, I reached the falls
and proceeded to scope out the best photographic locations. After
taking some photos, I settled in to enjoy my surroundings. There was
enough early afternoon sun to entice some of the more adventurous
tourists to go swimming beneath the falls. I joined them for a little
while, but then it started to rain again. By late afternoon I was the
only person still hanging around. I'm in a no camping area, but
bicyclers have an invisible advantage, which I have never hesitated to
use. Any more company at this point would be a surprise, at least
until tomorrow. The weather guarantees it. So, for the rest of the
evening, it will be just my book and me—the frosting on the cake.


July, ˜82

I expected to find Mike back at the beach, but he was still a no
show. Only when I was cleaning my bike at a gas station did I finally
run into him. He had left his billfold in a phone booth and had to
backtrack to find it. He lost a whole day in the process. After he
told me his story, and after both of us had taken showers and had
eaten a dinner of tuna fish sandwiches, we were still no closer to
figuring out our future plans. Mike had re-figured his time and had
come up with a couple of extra days. He wanted to bicycle the entire
Cabet Trail. That sounded like a good idea to me except for the fact
that my time was running out also. I still had to bicycle back to
Michigan (not to mention that our sunny days had given way to clouds
and rain). I decided to head south instead. Mike would, upon his return, board a train
and head back to Michigan, but first he would continue to bike around
the Cape. We parted on good terms. Our goodbyes were short, though. If
I had my way, goodbyes were always short.

Pedaling Up Old Smoke-360 Meter Rise In 2.2 Kilometers

Cape Breton
July 21, `82

The coffee is great, but the weather is not. It looks just like I
remember Nova Scotia—cloudy, foggy, windy, wet, and generally
miserable, but all this has little effect on me right now because I'm
watching it from inside this coffee shop. It's not raining, which
means that when I finish writing and get back on my bicycle, I'll be
okay, at least for a little while anyway. I'm on my way to a scenic
spot—Marry Ann Falls. It's a side trip for sure, uphill, and at least
ten miles of gravel road, but that's the name of the game if beauty is
what you're after.

Yesterday, I waited for Mike until 9 am. Beddeck was the adopted home
of Alexander Graham Bell, so I decided to tour the museum that was
created just for him. I learned a lot about Bell, but I needed at
least another hour to take in all the exhibits. I cut my visit short
to look for Mike. When I found him he said he had been looking for me
since 8 am. I let that statement slide and we set up a plan for the
day, which basically consisted of getting to Ingonish, a national park
at the northern tip of Cape Breton—our destination. It was after 11 am
when I finally said goodbye to Mike who was still puttering with
something. We agreed to meet further up the highway—a highway, I might
add, that was punctuated by large mountains. In fact, that ruggedness
was what influenced my decision not to bike the island when I was here
four years ago.

Pedaling up the mountain called Old Smoke, a 360-meter rise in 2.2
kilometers, I was forced to dismount and push my bike to the top. In
my younger days that challenge alone would have kept me on my bicycle,
but now I just wanted to get to the top. The beautiful Cape Breton
scenery made it all worthwhile though. The people were pretty nice
too. I was almost to the top, sweating and panting, when this car
passed me. The car pulls over to the side of the road and this French
guy gets out, his wife still in the passenger seat, and he pulls a
cold beer out from the cooler in the trunk of the car. He then hands
me the beer. He doesn't speak English, but there's no mistaking the
message. I smiled and thanked him, as I snapped the top of the beer.
The gesture completed, he got back in his car and drove away, and I
enjoyed one of the best beers of my life.

From the top of Old Smoke it was a nice ride down to Ingonish. The
ocean side of the park was absolutely beautiful, and there on the
beach, I found a bulletin board set up for tourists to connect with
each other. I left Mike a message. I said I would meet him at the next
beach park. It was getting late, so instead of paying for a campsite I
decided to hike down into Warren Lake and set up my tent off the
trail. The hike was about two miles, beautiful, quiet, and I was
totally alone. What can I say, I like being alone.

Mike And I Grew Up Together—Best Friends

July, ‘82

I'm presently waiting for Mike in the town of Brookfield. Today is another hot one,
and I think Mike is having a hard time with the heat. I asked the
Brookfield dairy truck driver if he had seen a guy on a bicycle, and
he said "yes". He was putting air in his tires just outside of town at
a gas station. I took that to be Mike, so at least I know that he's in
the town somewhere and it's only a matter of time before we meet up.
All things considered, this trip has been fault free. An interesting
sideline is about to take place, though; in a few days I'm going to
meet up with Bill, another friend from Michigan. He made arrangements with Mike to
meet us, or at least me (Mike will soon be boarding a train and heading back to
Michigan soon). Bill wants to bicycle back to Michigan with me. He is
presently in St. Johns, Newfoundland, doing some sightseeing or
whatever. One never knows what Bill is up to. Anyway, he's an old high
school buddy of mine. In fact, Bill and I hitchhiked to California together back in ‘69. I'm somewhat apprehensive about this rendezvous, though. One thing is for sure, whatever happens will be interesting—Bill is always interesting. It's starting to rain, so I guess this is the end of this journal entry.


July 20

I'm In Baddeck, Nova Scotia, on the Cabot Trail, drinking coffee in
Wong's restaurant. Mike and I ran into two more bikers, Dave and
Shannon. It was getting late, so after drinking a few beers in a bar
with our new found friends, Shannon suggested that we set up camp in
the backyard of the little church across the street. Everybody liked
that idea except Mike. Rather than camp in the church backyard, Mike
headed out of town to camp in the woods.

As I'm writing now I see no sign of Mike, which, it seems to me,
requires a few words of explanation. Mike and I grew up together. He
was and is, by far, my best friend. Up until the late `70s, the "free
spirit" in both of us had always kept us close. That said, however, it
is apparent that we have grown apart. I suspect it's like when two
lovers grow apart and end up in a messy divorce. Mike and I are
feeling that kind of pain. Our values are different now. My interest
in God probably has a lot to do with it. Mike's spiritual side never
strays far from the earth. Here's an example: Yesterday, after I
bought some food and walked out to the end of a pier to eat, I noticed
that Mike stayed behind. When I walked back past him, I said, "This
sure is a beautiful place to eat lunch, eh!" He replied, "When I'm
hungry I don't look around, I just eat." That pretty much sums up the
distance between the two of us. I don't know what happened (Vietnam
probably had something to do with it.)

The Kilted Scots Threw The Saber And Tossed The Caber

Antigonish, Nova Scotia
July 19, `82



I'm eating chocolate fudge cookies and drinking milk. I'm in the
shade on some Indian Reservation in Cape Britain in 32 degrees
centigrade heat. To my east, there is a thunderstorm going on. I'm not
sure how that's going to play out. The Maritimes need the rain. The
weather, at least for biking, has been exceptional—a bit hot today, though.

Mike and I left Prince Edward Island and made it over to Nova Scotia
with no problem. The first day out we bicycled 20 or 30 miles and then
camped under some power lines, next to a large patch of wildflowers.
The blue and white flowers were refreshingly nice. The second night
out, we camped at a trailer park in Antigonish. The Highland game
festival was going on, so the atmosphere in the town was all-Scottish.
After doing laundry the next morning, I stayed at camp and read, while
Mike went to the beach with some friendly campers. Like Mike, they were
schoolteachers; a husband and wife team out of the Hudson Bay region
of Canada-- a very desolate place. Listening to them, I figured they
must have been on a "calling" because no way could I have put up with
the hardships they described.

The next day, Mike and I went to the Scottish heavyweight games and
watched the kilted Scots throw the Saber, toss the caber—a huge
flagpole like object that was supposed to go head over heels
vertically, and, throw the ball and chain—a large iron ball attached
to a chain that was supposed to fly half the length of a football
field, or at least a quarter of the way. And, afterwards, on the
streets of Antigonish, we were entertained by Highland dancers and the
drum and bagpipe competitions. All in all, it was a full day of fun
and games. After our stay in Antigonish, we were off to hook up with
the Cabot Trail, the main highway moving up and around the large
island of Cape Breton.

God Is Culture—God’s Self-Aware Expression Of Freedom

Mike Conversation Concluded
July, ‘82

According to the way I perceive God, human culture is a product of God's freedom.
It is through culture that God acts out the self-aware expression of
freedom. This higher-level freedom is two levels removed from God's
least free expression—or the physical forces that govern the universe.
This higher freedom brings with it an `empty box,' a box of negation—a
box attached to consciousness—the box opening up self-consciousness.
Other animals are boxless. Consciousnesses--self-consciousness—uses this box to see what's not, and ask `why?' With the good comes the bad, however. This box also
permits ruthless people to value greed over knowledge, violence over
peace, and vengeance over beauty. Without this box though, agreements
for the purpose of securing peace and preserving beauty would not be
possible. Morality and value judgments would not be possible.
Creative self-expression would cease to exist, and without human
ingenuity civilization would be condemned to a foraging existence.
In fact, the history of civilization is the history of this box, the
history that records the struggles for liberty and the freedom to
overcome that which prohibits freedom. Seeking the origin of this
freedom births religion."

"You think religion can save the world!" responded Mike. You think if
only people believed as you do, they would act differently? How
ignorant! How pretentious! Who is shortsighted and stubborn now?"

"I don't know," I said, "Actually, I try not to think of it in those
terms. It's too scary. After searching all these years, it's enough to
have a security blanket that works for me."

"You deserve an `at-a-boy' for that," Mike replied. "Everybody's
entitled to their beliefs; that is, as long their beliefs do not deny
the beliefs of others. Even if you wanted to change the world, in my
opinion, you couldn't, not with what I just heard. The truth is I
don't understand a thing you just said. But, if it's any consolation,
I did enjoy hearing it. I don't know why; but how about another beer?"

"Sounds like a winner," I replied, "but indulge me for just a little
bit longer. I will be specific."

"If you must," Mike replied, "Waitress, two more beers pa' lease."

"First, God is the inescapable depth and center of all there is. The
immanence of God is what I call freedom and this immanence is present
as nature. When freedom achieves self-consciousness it is able to name
and create truth and beauty. In fact, it calls us forward into life,
love, and wholeness. The biblical Jesus was, most likely, so
completely transformed by his awareness of the divine that his
thoughts, words, and deeds were recognized as divine. Not
surprisingly, the gospel writers saw him as the Son of God, and
translated his story into the Passion Play that it was, -- it is. My
religion has nothing to do with `revealed truths,' and it is not about
heavenly rewards or punishments. Rather, it is simply a way to
perceive and process the God experience, the experience that pulses in
every human being. As far as proselytizing goes, all I want to do is
open people's minds to the idea that `terra firma' is hallowed ground.
I mean that both literally and figuratively. In our relationship with
others we share that ground, and that ground becomes sacred or profane
depending on how it is shared. That is what I believe, and that is
really the end. Now I'm finished."

"I'll drink to that," replied Mike, "in fact, we'll both drink to that!"

God Is Nature—Freedom And Reason Are Part Of Nature

Mike Conversation Continues
July, ‘82

"Pantheism is part of it, but there's more," I said. "I have always
been attracted to those images of deity that identify God with nature.
Spinoza, Lao Tsu, Whitman, Black Elk, all those guys believed nature
to be sacred. God is nature, but nature is also an expression of God's
freedom, and further, God's freedom is something `other' than God. It
is God when God is `not being God'--God's own non-being. I know that
sounds strange, but I can't help it. That's the way it is."

"Sure," Mike responded, "cut to the chase why don't you, and we'll
see just how strange that idea really is."

"I'm getting there," I said. "All nature is a `way of non-being.’ This non-being is peculiar in that it is not a singular thing; rather, it is manifested by reciprocal movement—the reciprocal movement occurring within the structure of double negation. God, a logically implied God, must exist because if all existence occurs within the structure of double negation then that which is implied by the double negative becomes logically affirmed, or, put another way, the Logos becomes another word for God. But that is not the end of it. This logically implied God becomes ‘free’ in the reciprocal movement that occurs within the structure of the double negative. All existence, in fact, occurs within the reciprocal movement of the double negation, so we have arrived back at the concept of pantheism with two important differences:

1) God, via implication, exists.
2) God, ‘in the form of the other,' is both God and freedom, and, through reasoned analysis, we can derive the meaning and significance of God. In fact, both freedom and logic, on some level, are present in all non-being, all nature.

So you see, the concept of pantheism now includes logic and reason and that is a game changer. Both God and God’s ‘freedom to be’ expands the concept of pantheism to include not just what we call ‘universe,’ but also the freedom to evolve self-conscious awareness, logical consistency, and the ‘collective good’ that perpetuates and sustains all humanity.


"That's the chase," Mike replied. "That's it?"

"I told you, my god is not user friendly," I said. "Freedom exists at
every level of nature. It also goes through changes, and these changes
represent freedom at more complex levels. After a sufficient level of
complexity, freedom becomes less restricted. When it experiences its
own double-negatives in the space of a higher negation, it becomes
alive. In that sense, freedom is always `stretching itself' and
`reaching out' for more freedom. At a sufficient level of complexity,
inorganic nature becomes organic, and freedom becomes freer. At death,
nature's double negation must be conserved, so higher expressions of
freedom dissolve into less free states, and, ultimately, into God
because God is affirmed in double negation—in the being of non-being. This is
my religion. This is what I believe. God is not separate from nature,
life, or culture. That's how I understand the meaning and significance of God."

"What has culture to do with anything?" Mike said. "Hell, social
insects have culture!"

"True," I replied, "but they do not bring self-consciousness to
culture; consequently, they are not free to expand that culture into
self-determined orders of complexity. Only humans can do that. Humans
are free in a way other animals are not."

"That's bullshit," Mike said. "Culture keeps us alive. It's the same
with insects. It's a matter of degree, not kind, and the same goes for
what you call freedom."

"Suit yourself," I replied, "but at least hear me out.

A God Even For Atheists

Mike Conversation Continues
July, ‘82


"Okay," I said, "but what I'm about to say is not exactly user
friendly. It's about a different kind of God, one that, as far as I
can tell, nobody is familiar with."

"Well, does God have foreknowledge or not?" Mike responded.

"He knows everything that is known," I said. "It's hard to describe,
but He knows it all without foreknowledge."

"You've got my attention now," Mike replied, "How exactly does He
pull that off?"

"It's in his freedom," I said. "In nature, life, and culture we find
God's `self-expression', and that--is an affirmation of God and God's
freedom."

"Oh, this ought to be good," replied Mike, "what kind of image is
that? Is He still the old man on high, divine worker of miracles,
dispenser of rewards and punishments, or am I missing something?"

"That image is a bit outdated, wouldn't you say?" I said.

"Well is He limited by time or not? replied Mike."

"No," I said.

"Is He omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient?"

"Yes to all three," I replied.

"Well, I rest my case. It's the same-o, same-o," Mike responded. "We
humans are bound by law and limited by death. We don't like it, so we
imagine a God without limits. We get sick, but God does not. We are
caught in space and time—not God. We face horrendous hardships and
suffering—not God. Both Freud, and Feuerbach before him, had it right;
god is a product of our own desires because, as cripples, we need a
crutch. We need god, but he remains forever out of reach. Religion was
born out of that need. God is our security blanket. In reality God is
based in false hopes and promises, and exists only in our dreams."


"There's more to the story than that," I responded. "The theologian,
Paul Tillich, had a different idea. In fact, he believed the image of
a superhuman God should be replaced by a more internalized `depth
image.' Instead of believing in an external God, he chose to believe
in a God that was the ground of all that is. God, for him, became
`infinite center,' a presence, a feeling, a reality, an opening to
all sacredness and divinity. That's kind of what I'm talking about
when I talk about God, but I came to that image in my own way. And, by
the way, as far as gender is concerned, God doesn't have any."

"That sound's a bit pantheistic to me," Mike responded. "So who or
what is this god?"

Humans Are No More Responsible For Their Behavior Than Is A Wooden Indian

Mike Conversation Continues
July, ‘82

"You're saying quantum indeterminacy affects human behavior? I don't
think so," replied Mike. "Human history is written in blood and guts,
not decimals. It's all about power relationships. If you don't believe
me go ask the psychologists. For them environmental stimulus leads us
around by the nose. It's the carrot/stick theory, and the toughest and
smartest get to perpetuate and survive. But, knowing you, if you're
still unsure about determinism, go ask a Hindu about karma. In fact,
why not go right to the boss--Einstein. According to him causal laws
are responsible for everything, including human behavior."

"Well, you have to admit that indeterminacy, on the quantum level at
least, makes it easier to believe in free will," I said.

"So what," replied Mike. "Indeterminism is mere chance; it's not free
will! A nerve impulse that is not determined is no more than a random
jump. Call it what you will; but an inherited jumble of neurons caught
up in socially constructed relationships is nobody's idea of a free
and independent will.

"If that's true," I said, "than how can anyone be held responsible
for their behavior?"

"That's precisely what Clarence Darrow asked," Mike responded. "He
believed man was no more responsible for his conduct than a wooden
Indian; and, he defended his clients based on that philosophy.
Was he successful—you bet! All you have to know is that we are waltzing
down the straight and narrow without a clue! That's a bitter pill to swallow, but if you take it with whiskey, you'll sleep better at night."

"But what about moral judgments?" I said, "Is praise and blame really
meaningless?"

"Look, I didn't say I had all the answers," replied Mike, "I'm not
God. If the old man can be found, go ask him."

"To bad you didn't read my paper," I responded. "I'm not saying I
have all the answers, but my opinions are legion."

"Go for it then," Mike replied. "If you have the answers to
philosophy's perennial questions then be my guest; have at it!"