MOMENTS WITH A MISSIONARY---DEALING WITH SAVAGES

HOW LUCKY I AM TO MEET A REAL LIVE MISSIONARY --WHO'S WILLING TO ENGAGE WITH ME---answered all my questions.  No I didn't challenge his religion as I often do with believers --I wanted to get a sense of his work and life in the Jungle.

Meet Eric an evangelical missionary to Brazil---home for a 2 weeks visit with his daughter posing beside him.  He will return to the jungle near the headwaters of The Amazon river near Columbia.  He is learning the language of a primitive tribe of about 40 individuals.  Only then will he  speak to them of religious matters, he said.  Here's a sampling of what I learned:

The natives are Animist---believing that everything contains souls---spirits.
They live immersed in fear of evil spirits--forever trying to placate them.
Everyone in the tribe is related--and everyone is keenly aware of the specific connections.
Their culture is frozen because everyone is afraid to deviate.
Anyone who becomes the least bit more successful than others is strongly censured.
To feel a firm sense of "Belonging" is seemingly vital.
Their tribe is related to hundreds more in the region who speak a closely related language.
Early missionaries paddled up the Amazon---today they fly into grassy landing strips.
Both father and daughter had read both books critical of missionary work: """THE POISIONWOOD             BIBLE" and "AT PLAY IN THE FIELDS OF THE LORD".  They were defensive---saying                 those were bad missionaries.
Technology is fast moving in and transforming their view of the world.  Cell phones are everywhere.
English is becoming a dominant language.

RANDY PHILOSOPHIZES:  I come away asking myself if the natives would be better off if they became Christian. Is it really a step up from animism?  Is it worse to fear the dings inflicted by malevolent spirits or the ultimate punishment of a "loving" God: Eternal Hell.
I favor sending: SCIENCE missionaries-- to debunk superstition and arouse wonder in the natives.
                          ENGINEERING missionaries--- to inspire  a can-do spirit in the natives.
                          AGNOSTIC missionaries to acquaint the natives with the ULTIMATE MYSTERY                                                  of life---to demonstrate to them TOLERANCE FOR AMBIGUITY.
                                               (the joyous philosophy of I DON'T KNOW ISM)
                          HISTORY missionaries to unfold the story of how we got to here.
 It pleases me that some governments forbid contact with hitherto uncontacted tribes---India and Brazil have led the way.
                       

STARTING SOMETHING NEW: TOMBSTONES THAT SAY SOMETHING

MOTHER'S HEADSTONE PROJECT--THE JOB IS DONE--- And as promised--- I show you the completed task.

Here's what the completed ceramic plaque looks like.  I ordered it from       http://www.photosforheadstones.com/
Cost about $230---they were very accommodating--back and forth-- as I revised the wording.

You may remember this post back in May when I decided to let my mother speak from the grave to all who might pass in this lovely small town cemetery in Sibley, Louisiana. Weather and other factors delayed the installation till now.

My sweet sisters Darlene and Bobbie Jean paid for it and its installation and sent me these photos.

RANDY PHILOSOPHIZES:  I'm pleased to make a first step in bringing back tombstones that say something----preferably what the person valued in life.  I think I will do the same for my father and my brother----Maybe I'll do it for myself.

Wanna be inspired by this idea?  Read a few of these from SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY  by Edgar Lee Masters and see what I mean.  Better yet--read them till you find your life described among these voices from the grave---I did--and it made me a bit more thoughtful about my life.
Imagine a succinct statement about the thrust of your life.

YOU WANNA LIVE THIS WAY? Part 1 SENSATIONS OF SANTA FE

YOU WANNA DRIFT AROUND THE COUNTRY---TURTLE-LIKE---YOUR HOME ON YOUR BACK?  I do!---(For reasons I'll explain later.)  Meanwhile---here's a faint notion of what it's like.

The plaza in Santa Fe---heart of the city---showplace for the weird and wonderful.  This guy told me he dresses this way every day.

Magician dazzles the kids

Indians sell their jewelry

Hobo's relax

People with peculiar pets

A new statue---honoring the first American Indian saint. read about her here. 

Can't resist showing a pict of my friend Glenn at the plaza--earning money as a busker.  He's really good--Just returned from Australia with the Glen Miller Band--Yeah they're still around with updated players--playing the old favorite tunes.  He writes a blog about his adventures. 

Check it out here

Suddenly, I got a yen to go where the swell folks hang out.  I mean the movie stars and such.  They come here.--I will try to find one for you.

It's a treat to merely walk in this store--Perhaps the finest of its kind.

See what I mean?

See what I mean?

I searched the aisles for a movie star.

Maybe in the fine wine department

Or 'mongst the classy Deli.

AND THEN I FOUND HER---wearing a funny t shirt---don't know who she is--but she was obviously a star--(her "manager" wouldn't allow this shot till he fussed with her hair a bit)

Anybody recognize her?--didn't want to insult her by asking who she was.

Then we ran into an old friend--James--a real brainiac who moves the world forward with his inventions.  He builds futuristic things---made a functional house out of papercrete--built 2 electric cars--and now he's built an electric motorcycle

with these performance statistics.

He whizzes it about----very whizzy.

RANDY PHILOSOPHIZES:   SO GO THE DAYS OF A DRIFTER--LIKE ME.  If your days were free---you would develop a style of your own---built around your unique set of fascinations.  I and all my kind are  FUTURE PEOPLE--trailblazing the lifestyle of tomorrow.  Someday--when we have outgrown the worst features of the money system---almost everyone will be free.  Careers will be short----machines will work---people will think.  Meaning will be generated in a thousand new ways. Wanna do this?  Ingenuity and frugality are the tickets to this lifestyle.

YESTERDAY I HELPED A FRIEND DIE

He always loved to ride with me in the truck

We laid him to rest in this lovely setting

  stayed with him all night 

 This photo gave me a spooky surprise.  At the very spot of his grave appeared the shadow imprint of a dog in the bushes.

And before we left we found another surprise--this touching sculpture of a dog angel atop another doggie grave--only steps away.

Luke has company

LUCAS

Yesterday I helped a friend die

the way I'd like to go;

loving hands holding me;

pink fluid sending me to eternity in seconds.

He was my companion's dog

but I loved him as my own.

We'd traveled years together.

I've known him in the sunshine of his days,

content as only animals can be;

bouncy, playful, grateful to be alive;

giving and taking love from one and all.

Rescued deep in Mexico 13 years ago

from unhappy prospects;

taken on a lifelong adventure---RV style

'round the continent;

walking a thousand trails with his mistress;

dancing a thousand dances for his treats;

sleeping thousands of nights at her feet;

knowing no greater joy than her approval;

fetching with the gusto of a being on fire with purpose.

He bounced as he walked, tail high in a curl

communicating when need be with the clarity of spoken words:

hanging back with a reluctance that shouted

"I don't want to go!"

One day he found a dried up smelly fish

and would not give it up

she exhausted herself trying--then gave up.

Luke said: "I really really want this."

He seemingly yearned for a male in his life,

and when I was around, it was me.

He would literally knock at my door with his paw,

knowing he was welcome and treats given.

He had a bearing as regal as a king.

You would mistake him for the dogs in Egyptian art.

Sometimes, atop a boulder he posed like Rin Tin Tin.

He was cared for but not pampered; 

having a place in the scheme of things;

responsibilities and rules like the rest of us

but confident always that he was included.

He trembled uncontrollably at gunshots and fireworks

till cinched up tightly in his thunder suit.

At age 98 he was stricken with a fatal tumor;

the Vet said only days remained.

We made them days of much love.

When the pain came we let him go yesterday as I have said.

I watched his last sad steps with his mistress

and my grief came heaving out.

I hardly made so great a scene when Mother died.

Leaning on the hood of my truck I sobbed unashamed;

astonished at the depth of my sadness.

The Vet and his wife consoled with great skill.

We carried his body in my truck to a beautiful spot 

overlooking Georgia O'keeffe's  famous Ghost Ranch.

Together we dug his grave and placed him in sleeping posture facing East.

We layered his body with sweet sage 

and included an heroic Jack London dog story.

We went back today to complete our goodbye with incense

and beautiful sounds.  We tied his leash to a nearby tree.

I hope there is a doggy heaven!

ADDENDUM: Carl has pointed us to a youtube poem about dogs that will swell your heart. See it here