Spirit

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I was not planning to watch The National Parks on PBS for such a silly reason. Two reasons. First, I have come to disrespect PBS as a source of enlightenment, and I’m bored with the silly, culture-serving pap that they mostly now produce. It’s tolerable, while the rest of the wavelengths are not, but it’s not something I would rather do than watch the clouds roil up over the back pasture. And then some idiot changed it all to digital that I mostly can’t get, so I don’t watch TV anymore. And then I have never seen a Ken Burns film, but I have seen the “Ken Burns effect” used in nausea-producing — I should say misused, because in the hands of Ken Burns it is life itself, speaking out of the boob tube. I never knew the TV could actually be beautiful. Or maybe it was the jet lag. Two in the morning, sitting on the edge of my bed with my roots alive in my better memories and tears running down my face as the TV introduced me to myself, and the spirit of God moved over the land.

This is why I became a scientist. For the honor and the spirit. Naïve little creature that I was. I thought other people “knew” something I did not about the root, trunk and vine, and all the time there I was out on a different branch. Looking up — for — something?

I know that we all want the same things.

I’m sure we are all pursuing the same spirit — artists, philosophers, scientists and religious.

So why do we hate each other so? Why not just — look up together?

Instead of filling our minds and souls with little bits of mud and clay?

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