I don't believe God listens to *every* prayer. . .but He listens to mine!

We cling to the God Concept because it is very real to us. Even to a nonbeliever such as I. I don't have any problem admitting that I want there to be a god. I want there to be this Benevolent Being watching over us, daily, making us better, delivering a daily hand in all our affairs. Truth is though, I don't believe in such a being. I believe there is a force out there who may listen in your darkest hour, but that same force gave us the substance, the fortitude, to stand firm against whatever comes our way. We have the intellectual capacity, the creativity, the will to stand in the way of anything that threatens us.This Being expects us to use that which was given to us to prove ourselves. And yes, he/she/It may listen sometimes, but I don't think it is infinitely listening to all of our whining.

Update 4/15/2018:

All of the aforementioned said, I have recently come across some knowledge, and have had some experiences, which may contradict that stuff-n-stuff I said several months ago (more accurately put, six months, but time is a rather fluid concept for me, as it happens to interfere - often - with the things I enjoy doing . . . more on that later). Truth is, I went to jail, and some things happened subsequently which I cannot explain, not fully on an intellectual level at least. And before you say or think that jail is just a place where the truly desolate seek desperately for any outlet, any saving grace they can in order to deal with their predicaments . . . it is.

No question there. But that is not the case for me, because I was only there a month. 27 days to be precise.

I have very likely not "rended" anyone's mind since the inception of this blog.

I was hoping to, certainly, but profundity is always accompanied by something learned - usually a powerful lesson - and learning is something of which I have been in short supply as of late. But somehow, solitude (i.e., jail) seems to be a stark progenitor of new ideas. And as my life has spiraled utterly out of control since my recent divorce in March, 2017, being open to new ideas, philosophies, and esoteric concepts did not any longer seem so alien to my fragile psyche.

Simply put, I got "saved" in jail. I put the word in quotations only because I do not yet understand precisely what that means.

I opened myself to God, to the idea of the Christian God, and felt a presence. Then I tried prayer - meaningful, faithful prayer - with every expectation that it would come to fruition. And it did. So far, all of them. For instance, I was waiting for a ride from a friend one day and it was supposed to storm (I have a car, just not one where I was) a full two hours prior to my friend's arrival; tornadoes, 40 - 50 mph winds, lightning, thunder, the whole, big, bad enchilada. 90% chance, and there I am, sitting outside with the wind bending trees nearly double, reading a book. I got annoyed, so I prayed for it to die down - willed it to, even, arrowing my thoughts directly at the skies with a feeling in my chest much like sadness, only I wasn't sad - and as soon as I was done, the wind died down dramatically. Chance, right? So thought I.

Then the wind picked up again. So I prayed again just as before . . . and the wind died down again. I turned my attention back to my book - Dan Brown's Lost Symbol, in case you're wondering - and I heard thunder. Then lightning and more thunder. I began to doubt again. The wind picked up yet again, and so I prayed that the storm would hold off until 2:45, as my friend was supposed to arrive at 2:30. The rain and wind - thunder and lightning as well - held off for another hour and a half until my friend arrived, then for the next 20 minutes it took for us to reach my house. It took me a few minutes to unload my things, speak to my sister and make it back to my bedroom before I looked at my watch. It was exactly 2:45, and just then the bottom dropped out.

I am a pretty creative guy. I write both prose and poetry, I write music, songs, and I'm also not sucky with some pencils and a sketchbook.

Not perfect, but not terrible either, no?

Suffice to say, if I were going to make up some fantastic story, it would be about something a whole lot more interesting than a storm. But wait . . . there's more!

Before I continue, let me say that I have reread my old arguments against religion and religious tenets, and I have to say . . . they still hold water. Lots of it. Which is why I think, based on empirical evidence, that my newfound belief is a mixture of both science and faith (re: noetic science). I don't think I have ever believed that Man's belief in mysticism (religion, philosophy, esoteric knowledge) - literally as old as recorded history and more researched, studied and dissected than any other concept - was founded on fantasy and fever dreams. I knew there was a basis in fact. I knew that miracles were simply sciences that we did not yet understand. That is also why I know that things we cannot explain today are sciences we cannot yet understand. The word, "science," simply means 'to know'.

Singing to a plant has been scientifically proven to improve its growth rate and health, as does sending positive thoughts at it consistently (re, again: noetic science). There are certain particles that can only be seen if we expect to see them. Otherwise, they do not exist. That is, quite literally, mind over matter on an atomic level. And sure, I may be creative, but I'm no physicist; as in, there's no way I could make that stuff up, and it's all verifiable.

I discovered noetic science about a decade ago. I tried reading about it, but honestly, the concepts were way over my head. I only understood the basic, fundamental ins and outs, and even those with only the most rudimentary comprehension. Rationalists (of which I consider myself a member, so to speak) call it "bullshit science," only I have seen every bit as much intolerance, vitriol and condemnation from atheists as I have from any religious group. True story. So no, I did not come across noetic science in Lost Symbol, but I was delighted to see it crop up again, because it interests me even more today, especially regarding some of the experiences I have had lately. There is also much more available information today than when I first came across it.     

The Pit Bull

So, a couple weeks prior to the storm incident, I went on a sabbatical of sorts shortly after I got out of jail. The place where I was staying was out in the country where the people just sort of let their dogs run wild. Generally, I don't think it's much of an issue, but in this case, there happened to be a couple of really strong dogs running loose around the area. One was a very large bull mastiff, and the other was a pit bull terrier around 6 - 8 months old (is my guess, and although I'm no expert, I have owned a pit bull in the past and figure my guess is fairly accurate).

There were some men working on a house near where I was staying, about a hundred yards away, and the mastiff begins barking at the house. So the foreman (we found out later) sent one of his helpers out to run the mastiff off, and as he does so, the pit bull runs up beside the mastiff and begins barking at the young man too. He panics, drops the hammer that was in his hand, and begins to run. Before he can get far, both of them are on him, biting him. His yells bring out the rest of the crew - about five men total - and as this was happening, I hopped into the back of the truck where I was and three more of us were speeding down the road to help him. Before we even got halfway there, the incident was over. The young man was lying on his back wincing in pain and the dogs had run off at the sight of the truck and the men coming toward them.

The very next day, the little, tan pit bull returns. We found out a little later that another dog, Ginger, who hung out around the house we were staying in, was in heat. Ginger was (I think) a setter/shiba mix and she was of a size with Biscuit, the pit bull - so I named him soon after because of his coloring.

very close approximation to "Biscuit"

Initially, I ran him off with a big stick . . . until Ginger got scared and ran under a flatbed trailer, as did Biscuit, who quickly began wagging his tail at me. He was plainly frightened, but it was obvious he was also quite friendly. It didn't take much persuasion to get him to come out (after, of course, I checked on Ginger), and as it turned out, he was just a sweet little guy with no guile in him whatsoever. I can only assume he was merely copying the older and larger mastiff when he attacked that young man, because everyone else at the house got to know and like the dog, and there were no more incidents at all.

Anyhow, the proprietor of the house where I was staying did his diligence and called the sheriff's office, who promptly responded and asked him to take photos if he saw the dog back on the property. I ran into Biscuit's owner a few days later who told me that she had found a new home for him and to contact her if I saw him again. I was unable to do so before the sheriff's deputy returned, showing me photos the proprietor had sent him. This dismayed me terribly as I had grown attached to Biscuit, and he in turn had shown me nothing but love and sweetness and playfulness for the last several days. I didn't want to see him wind up in the pound, so I decided to pray for him at prayer group that night. It was an unusual request, and I admitted as much, but the leader of the group reluctantly said a prayer for the little guy. On my part, I prayed just as I had for the storm (remember, this was prior to the storm, and one of the instances in which I can no longer deny the power of human thought . . . or prayer, if you will), with a sad feeling in my chest. Again, I wasn't sad, only concerned, because I knew Biscuit's fate if he was picked up by Animal Control, and it seemed inevitable that he would be.

The very next morning, the deputy came by again, showed me the photos of Biscuit, and asked if I'd seen him. I answered honestly that I had not. A few hours after the deputy left, I saw Ginger. No Biscuit. Now would be the point in the story where I should tell you folks who don't have a lot of experience with dogs that if there is a female dog in heat, literally every male dog who is able within the vicinity of a mile radius will be hovering nearby. Also keep in mind that Biscuit had become quite happy out our little ranch, and had made some good friends besides Ginger. He was getting treats - of both the edible and sexual variety (several people had seen the two dogs coupling) - and had every reason to stick around. Long story just a tad longer, it turns out his owner was able to catch him and get him to his new owner before the deputy returned again. Was it prayer? I think so. Can I prove it? Meh . . . probably not. But these two instances, and half a dozen others just in the last month or six weeks have moved my belief needle way over to the other side of things.             

Just so you understand . . . I do know what I'm doing, says inside source

So I thought I might share a couple of demo reels I produced at WLBT, a news station in Jackson, MS. Hope I'm not breaking any rules by putting this out there. But I wanted you, my readers, to know that the majority of the stuff those anchors read off the teleprompter, we, the producers, write, rewrite, and edit. And we even design all the graphics (i.e., names and occupations, dates, etc.)

In time I will also share some of my real news articles; not nearly so entertaining as the articles and insights you'll find here, but just to show that I am indeed the real deal. I use the fake headlines for humor, yes, but also because of my background in journalism - as an homage, if you will.