"I once awoke from a dream convinced that
I could learn the meaning of life by looking into a paper bag,
but the magical formula also required a pair of scissors,
a carton of 2% milk, a green marker, and something else.
Problem is, I haven't been able to remember that something else.
If it ever comes to me I'll look inside and let you know."
[Shaman of Luthur (me), "Welcome to My Mind" (30 May 99)]

In retrospect, I decided recently that I'm pretty sure the milk was skim, not 2%. Whether I'm remembering it correctly now, or I was remembering the dream correctly back in May of 1999 is actually unimportant. In fact, if anything, it serves to further demonstrate the importance of the milk.

The milk represents the temporal, impermanent, subjective nature of truth. That is, that truth does not exist independant to the observer, just as matter does not exist except in the perception of the observer. And what subjective truth we find, of course, is tempered by the passage of time which, by changing the observer, necessarily changes the observed, bearing in mind that by "passage of time", I can speak only to our perception of it. I make no promise of its being linear, nor of the direction it travels if it were.

If you're still reading, you're probably thinking "goddamnit, why did Thea have to lend him The Parallel Sayings of Einstein and Buddha, and how much more of this must we endure?" but in fact, that was not my inspiration. My inspiration came more from a parable about a young Greek philosopher, and from milk. Skim milk, to be precise. "Adult milk", as it were.

I grew up drinking whole milk. In my mid 20s I moved from whole to 2%, and finally from 2% to skim. In my childhood, I thoroughly detested anything other than whole milk, characterizing skim as "watery". Now I find even 2% to be "too thick", and whole milk could downright choke me. The milk hasn't changed any, of course, but I have, and as such, so too has the truth about milk, at least from my point of view.

I was out to buy Xmas gifts recently for my nephew, Benjamin, and for my new neice, Grace, and while I did I gave each family some thought. Benjamin is my sister's son, and she's Salvation Army. Grace is my brother's daughter, and he's an Atheist/Taoist like myself. I'm curious as to what Grace will be told about god, or about Santa, or Xmas, by my brother and his wife when she's Ben's age. But in the grand scheme of things, I think it's actually pretty unimportant, at least at such young ages.

I babysit Ben occassionally, and much to the grumblings of my brother, I make sure he says his prayers when I'm tucking him into bed at night, in spite of my Atheism, in spite of my belief in freedom of religion and freedom of choice. I do it because it's my sister's wish, and it's her child, and I respect that. I do it because I believe he's too young to appreciate the arguments both ways anyway. I do it because I believe you only have as many rights as you can defend, and being he cannot defend his freedom of religion, he doesn't have any. I do it because I believe the choice I made is only more accentuated and empowered by my own religious upbringing: an educated decision, not an ignorant or half-hearted one. And now... now I do it because I used to drink whole milk, and now I drink skim. Some day he'll get to choose which milk to drink, and which god or gods, if any, he believes in. And some day he'll know the truth about Santa, rising crime rates, political misdeeds, and celebrity infidelity. His body probably needs the added fat, and perhaps his little heart needs something to hold onto as well.

So there you have it. The milk represents the importance of recognizing the temporal, subjective, fluid nature of truth, and embracing it anyway. It does a body good, they say.

And I'm pretty sure I understand the scissors, paper bag, and green marker, and that I've figured out what that missing something is as well.

But that as they say, is another story.