NX2

There are probably some folks out there who're saying, "I'm never going to
have a rush like that. Earth's a parking lot and outer space is just too
pricey." Well, let me tell you, there are lots of ways to blaze a trail. I
often wonder about those unsung heroes of the past, like the prehistoric
gourmet who looked at a lobster and said, "I'm going to eat that." Or the
first healer who picked up a knife and said, "Let's operate, boys" See,
adventures come in lots of shapes and sizes, from getting a haircut to falling
in love. Just putting yourself behind the wheel and backing out of the
driveway--well that can be a sublime act of faith as well as a monumental act
of courage.

When I heard about Rick, the first thing I thought was, "Klaatu, Barada, Nikto," those immortal words that toggled off the robot gort in "The Day the Earth Stood Still". When that movie was made, robots were just the stuff of fiction. But hey, not any more. Artificial intelligence, robotics, bio-implants...Not only are we making smart machines, we're becoming smart machines. So what's that got to do with Rick, you say? Well, I'm thinking he might just be the next step in this evolutionary process. Yesterday, when that sweet flower of NASA's imagination married Rick, he crossed the line between man and machine. He became the future, homo novus, the new man. Rick, here's one for you--"Telstar" by the English Tornadoes.

Dreams are postcards from our subconscious, inner self to outer self, right brain trying to cross that moat to the left. Too often they come back unread: "return to sender, addressee unknown." That's a shame because it's a whole other world out there--or in here depending on your point of view. Indeed, for all we know this very moment could be nothing more than vapors of our own imaginations. As Bertrand Russell mused, "I do not believe that I am now dreaming, but I cannot prove that I am not." Point being, there could be more to our nocturnal journeys than commonly accepted or considered.

When we think of a magician, the image that comes to mind is Merlin--long
white beard, cone-shaped hat--you know. Well in one version of the Arthurian
legend this archetypal sorcerer retires, checks out of the conjuring business.
His reason? The rationalists are taking over. The time for magic is coming
to an end. Well ol' Merlin should've stuck around, 'cause those same
rationalists, trying to put a rope around reality, found themselves in the
psychedelic land of physics, a land of quarks and gluons and neutrinos, a
place that refuses to play by Newtonian rules, that refuses to play by any
rules at all--a place much better suited to the Merlins of the world.

In ancient Greece and Rome, the community, the city was everything, the whole enchilada. You had no identity without it. You piss-off the powers that be and you got the boot. The big E. Exile. Persona non grata. You take Oedipus, that unlucky fellow who killed his father and married his mother. They string him up? Did they slit his throat? No way. Check it out: "Let him flee nor ever approach the temples. Let no citizen speak to or receive him. Let no one admit him to the prayers or sacrifices. Let no one offer the lustral waters." Hmm. You talk about a cold shoulder. Brr. They call that capital punishment.

Pondering this here phenomenon we call Cicely, Alaska, you might ask yourself, Where do cities come from in the first place? Well, like most things, from an idea. You see our ancestors had the notion that the dead weren't really dead, they just kept on boogieing on underground. So to make sure the dead had a regular supply of chow and vino they put feed times on the calendar. Presto, we had rituals, festivals, religions. Now you take some families and you give them the same religion, you got a tribe. A few tribes, what do you got? Athens. Thebes. Rome. It's weird but true. We got cities because these ancient folks wanted to do right by the dead. It's no accident that the church and the graveyard stand side by side. The city of the dead sleeps encircled by the city of the living.

Meanwhile, people, we got a baby with no name. Does that matter? Not really. It's like Goethe said, "You are, when all is said and done, just what you are." Maybe, on the other hand, it does. Why have we been assigning monikers since the beginning of language? In the beginning was the word. Who would Yours Truly be if I were Mike-in-the-morning? Probably doing drive time in Secaucus. John the Baptist, would he have lost his head if he were Steve? I don't think so.

Listen, Cicely, can you hear it? Spring's sweet cantata. The strains of grass pushing through the snow. The song of buds swelling on the vine. The tender timpani of a baby robin's heart. Spring. Spring, spring, spring. Naturally, this man's fancy turns to thoughts of death. Not death in the 'That's all folks' kind of death, but death in the cyclical sense. Like high tide, low tide, sunrise, sunset, you know that kind of thing. Bears, which we've all had on our minds lately, they really say it all. You know, their death-like sleep in the sepulcher of the cave, followed by their awakening rebirth. Death and resurrection, something bears and deities have in common. Point of fact: in many cultures, bears themselves were considered gods. Sixty thousand years ago, way before Mithra, before the burning bush, before Christ, Buddha, who do you think our Neolithic brothers lie prostrate to? Bears. Keep it covered guys, they're out there.

Paddle To The Sea, folks, the story of an Indian boy who sent a toy canoe on a
journey he himself was too young to take. We do the same thing, you know.
Voyager, Pioneer, Galileo: our standard bearers in the eternal human crusade;
exploration. And now we've he the cosmic trail. Why? Old Earth's played
out. Less than a hundred years ago, Amundsen could be the first human being
to reach the south pole, and Falcon Scott could die trying. Now? Well, last
year China had to close Mount Everest. Too much litter. The world's become a
fragile place--not to be conquered, but to be protected, coddled, nursed like
a baby.

I'm sorry, people, I seem to be problems. I...I seem to be blems getting the words out...technical difficulties?

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