I became acquainted with Paul Bandelier and his father Ron in 2018 when I fell in love with the old pickup truck he had for sale. I’ve visited often enough to hear bits and pieces about the rich history of their family (see tag below) and a couple of days ago I noticed a framed newspaper story in Paul’s shop. The headline read, “Bandelier property has coal mining, entertainment legacy.” It’s a pretty interesting history »
What Is Consciousness?
I don’t remember when or how I became interested in consciousness. My reading has included some titles by neuroscientists (like David Eagleman) but I tend to lean toward the philosophical or contemplative (metaphysical?). Most of which has been excerpted here (110 posts!) For my money, David Eagleman explains (discusses) this slippery subject better than anyone.
I struggled with how to describe my interest in the non-scientific approaches to consciousness so I asked ChatGPT:
A good term that bridges the gap between the scientific and the mystical without leaning too far in either direction might be “philosophical” or “phenomenological.”
- Philosophical – This captures the deep inquiry into consciousness that isn’t bound by empirical science but also doesn’t necessarily invoke mysticism. Thinkers like Descartes, Husserl, and Chalmers explore consciousness through reason, introspection, and logic.
- Phenomenological – A term used to describe the study of subjective experience, focusing on how consciousness feels from the inside. This is rooted in philosophy but can also align with contemplative practices.
- Existential – A term often associated with the nature of experience, selfhood, and the human condition, which naturally touches on consciousness.
- Contemplative – While sometimes associated with spiritual traditions, it can be neutral enough to imply deep, reflective examination of awareness without invoking religious connotations.
If you’re looking for something even broader, “metaphysical” works, though it might feel too abstract.
“Shoot him in the ass”
“If you’re watching this video…”
Every blog has a final post. Today I had a flash fantasy of what mine might be and asked ChatGPT to write a short story based on the following scenario:
An elderly man has been posting to his blog for more than twenty years. More than 6,000 posts. It was a very personal journal and very few ever visited or read his posts.
Before dying he wrote a post he recorded a video saying he had hidden one hundred thousand dollars in cash somewhere in the world… and a clue to the location was hidden somewhere on his blog. In a single post, perhaps… or one some combination of posts. Or within one of the many videos or audio files on the blog.
Before his death he shared this information on a number of social media sites with no idea if anyone would notice or believe the story.
As these things sometimes do, his story went viral and his blog was deluged with people from all over the world, searching for clues to the location of the fortune.
Prior to his death he set up a trust to cover the expense of maintaining his blog.
This could be a story about one person’s search or the story-line could follow a number of different people. Lots of ways to go with this. Good luck.
George Carlin on Religion
The Good Life
I asked ChatGPT for a little story to go with this photo:
The fireplace crackles with warmth, casting a soft glow across the room. A Christmas tree, adorned with colorful lights and ornaments, stands proudly in the background—suggesting the holiday season is in full swing.
In the center of it all sits a man with a gentle smile, nestled by the fire with two golden retrievers at his side. One dog lies comfortably on the rug, a red toy resting near its paws, while the other sits upright, leaning into the man’s touch. They seem calm and content, reflecting the quiet companionship shared between them.
It feels like a moment of peaceful reflection—perhaps after a long day of holiday preparations or simply a quiet evening at home. The setting invites a sense of gratitude and the joy of simple pleasures—good company, a warm fire, and the unconditional love of loyal dogs.
Blog-worthy in 2024
I’ve been thinking about a “things-Steve-put-on-his-blog-in-2004” post. With 252 posts it could quickly get out of hand and become one of those endless Xmas letters people send out and almost nobody reads. (Much like this post) It seems unlikely anyone would want to browse all 252 posts but this link will pull them up or you can jump to the first posts of the year.
- If one topic dominated throughout the year it was Artificial Intelligence. Mostly ChatGPT/DALL•E and Perplexity. Fifty-two posts (20% of all posts).
- Fell and broke my arm in early February so did lots of reading this year, passing 1,000 books in my LibraryThing in March. (I only read about 50 books in 2024)
- I created and posted a fair amount of video in 2024 and I started playing with the DJI Osmo Pocket 3 camera in April but found it had almost too many features so it set on the shelf for much of 2024.
- Had a lot of fun with the Jeep this year and drove it topless for most of the summer.
- My meditation streak (2,288 consecutive days) ended in July when I just forgot. Less traumatic and more liberating than I expected.
- Not sure about a date but I moved from Google’s cloud to iCloud this year in anticipation of Apple Intelligence with came late in the year.
- Barb and I killed three Copperhead snakes last summer and I dispatched an armadillo and a possum.
- After ten years I finally broke down and got an Apple Watch. Don’t know how l got by without out one. Yes, I’ve become one of those annoying Apple Watch people.
- Started letting my hair grow in the fall and don’t plan to cut it as long as Keith Richards is still alive.
- Around the end of October I started using Apple’s Journal app.
- In December I got to try Sora, an AI-powered platform that generates videos based on text prompts, and Apple’s Image Playground
See what I mean? Just like one of those Xmas letters that nobody reads. But this is blogging in its purest form
The Walmart Effect
From The Atlantic: New research suggests that the company makes the communities it operates in poorer—even taking into account its famous low prices.
“In the 10 years after a Walmart Supercenter opened in a given community, the average household in that community experienced a 6 percent decline in yearly income—equivalent to about $5,000 a year in 2024 dollars—compared with households that didn’t have a Walmart open near them. Low-income, young, and less-educated workers suffered the largest losses.”
“..poverty increases by about 8 percent in places where a Walmart opens relative to places without one even when factoring in the most optimistic cost-savings scenarios.”
“When Walmart comes to town, it uses its low prices to undercut competitors and become the dominant player in a given area, forcing local mom-and-pop grocers and regional chains to slash their costs or go out of business altogether. As a result, the local farmers, bakers, and manufacturers that once sold their goods to those now-vanished retailers are gradually replaced by Walmart’s array of national and international suppliers. (By some estimates, the company has historically sourced 60 to 80 percent of its goods from China alone.) As a result, Wiltshire finds, five years after Walmart enters a given county, total employment falls by about 3 percent, with most of the decline concentrated in “goods-producing establishments.”
Reading Myself to Sleep by Billy Collins
The house is all in darkness except for this corner bedroom
where the lighthouse of a table lamp is guiding
my eyes through the narrow channels of print,
and the only movement in the night is the slight
swirl of curtains, the easy lift and fall of my breathing,
and the flap of pages as they turn in the wind of my hand.
Is there a more gentle way to go into the night
than to follow an endless rope of sentences
and then to slip drowsily under the surface of a page
into the first tentative flicker of a dream,
passing out of the bright precincts of attention
like cigarette smoke passing through a window screen?
All late readers know this sinking feeling of falling
into the liquid of sleep and then rising again
to the call of a voice that you are holding in your hands,
as if pulled from the sea back into a boat
where a discussion is raging on some subject or other,
on Patagonia or Thoroughbreds or the nature of war.
Is there a better method of departure by night
than this quiet bon voyage with an open book,
the sole companion who has come to see you off,
to wave you into the dark waters beyond language?
I can hear the rush and sweep of fallen leaves outside
where the world lies unconscious, and I can feel myself
dissolving, drifting into a story that will never be written,
letting the book slip to the floor where I will find it
in the morning when I surface, wet and streaked with
daylight.
Photos by Alison Mays
I justified replacing my one-year-old iPhone 15 by gifting it to my niece Alison. I’d forgotten what an excellent photographer she is.
