On Thursday night, bouncing arrived in Lincoln for a 1-night stay during his journey from Chicago to Boulder. He brought with him one of his old friends from high school.

I decided to celebrate the event by making lentil stew -- a different variety than my last such experiment. It turned out relatively well IMO, although not as good as the batch I made a couple weeks ago. I used a different type of lentils this time. The seasoning was good, but the texture could have been better.

After the brief dinner, bouncing, his friend and I watched Koyaanisqatsi, a DVD bouncing had brought which had aroused my curiosity. If I had to use one work to describe it, it would be Hypnotic.

bouncing and his friend retired to their hotel.

Friday, I had arranged to have the day off work to hang out with bouncing. After waking up, I got on IM, and we arranged to meet at a coffee shop across town. All seemed to be going according to plan until I sat down at the helm of Tobias, and the engine adamently refused to start.

So much for that plan. I called bouncing's cell and informed him that I would be a little later than expected. Serenity, it was.

45 minutes later, I found the two of them hanging out at The Mill, and we decided to wander around downtown. bouncing's assessment of Lincoln's downtown matched my own: It's got more interesting stuff than Oklahoma City, but certainly no match for Boulder.

We hung out at A Novel Idea for a while perusing the eclectic selection of books. For lunch, we headed south on foot until we reached Open Harvest, and had potato burritos, peaches, spinach, and cheese. All agreed that the potato burritos were excellent. (At my recommendation. I believe the potato burritos beat even the deluxe ones for flavor and texture. End plug.)

bouncing's friend did not feel up to walking back to the car, so we set on a plan: bouncing would walk back to get his car and pickup his friend, I would ride directly back to the Mideast Base, where we would rendezvous.

The final activity before their evening departure: Another documentary bouncing had brought along: The End of Suburbia. It did a good job of covering the impending peak oil crisis. The information contained therein was nothing I haven't heard before. Preaching to the chior here.

I submit that the saddest thing about all the good documentaries that have come out over the past couple years is that, by and large, the only people who bother to see them are those who are already informed enough to be aware of their contents. Most of the people who would actually learn something they didn't already know don't bother to see them.

Case in point: How many Republicans (or even swing voter types) do you know who watched Fahrenheit 9/11 last year? How many Fox News junkies watched Outfoxed - Rupert Murdoch's War on Journalism? How many people who aren't already aware of Peak Oil are watching The End of Suburbia? The clueless remain clueless, and those who know what's going on keep trying to "raise awereness" back and forth to one another. Is this a cynical view, or a realistic one?

bouncing and his friend left shortly before 18:00, so they could arrive in Denver late in the night.

...

Last night, I asked Yanthor if he owned any jumper cables. He replied that he didn't. I had been hoping to drive my car to church in the morning. As a backup plan, I contemplated riding Serenity.

Yanthor suggested that he might be interested in joining me to see what the Unitarian church was like, so if he did, we could ride in his car. (He offered to let me drive his vehicle even if he didn't come; though I consider myself a very safe driver, I'd still be a bit nervous about the potential liability issues in that. It was nice of him to offer though.)

Sunday morning, he told me he wanted to come along. And so we went.

During the sermon (topic: Covenants), I was surprised to hear the minister not only quote from the Gospel of Thomas, but also give a nice overview about the history of the Nag Hammadi scrolls. He also mentioned that Elaine Pagels will be speaking in town next Thursday evening at the Lied Center!

After the service was over, I went up to the front to talk to him, partly because he had invited any new people to come up and meet him if they wished, but I also wanted to make sure I had heard right. Yep, Elaine Pagels, speaking at the Lied Center on Thursday evening, 7:00pm. (Someone else also mentioned that there might be a pre-lecture at 6:30.) Free and open to the public.

Count me in. I'll be there.

After the service, I started asking around about the CUUPS group. Apparently, their meeting schedules and materials are somewhat less advertised than many of the other local Unitarian programs and sub-groups. (Theory: Maybe due to the common Neopagan aversion to proselytizing? That's just speculation on my part.) The person who coordinates the CUUPS group was not present today, but I did manage to get her phone number. So now I have another item on my list of people to call.

After we left, Yanthor commented that he was surprised at how many people there seemed to be... well... at least a generation or two older than us. He expected that a church such as this one -- less rigid and formal, more open, more accepting of various ideas and beliefs -- would be likely to attract more young people. I had to agree, at least to some degree. There did seem to be a dearth of people near our age.

I wondered aloud whether mabye the stereotype of young people is true. Maybe most people of our generation just don't care about religion at all. It doesn't matter whether it's more open or not. Most our age just don't feel like they need it, and spend their time on other things? Possible?

After thinking about it, I'm not satisfied with that explanation, even though it was one I offered.

Tentatively, I'm going to file this one under the more general "Lincoln is a Strange Town" theory. Because here's what I've noticed: Jewel Heart seems to be a lot the same way, although maybe to a lesser degree. From what I've seen, most of the people at Jewel Heart (excepting Yanthor, Humblik, and myself) seem to be at least in their 30's or 40's.

From what I remember of the classes at the Shambhala Center, people who came to those ran the gamut, age-wise. Since Boulder is a college town, it might have been somewhat slanted more toward people in their early to mid-20s, but not to a huge degree.

But isn't Lincoln also a college town? Where are all the Buddhist students? If they're not at Jewel Heart, and they're not at the Unitarian church, maybe they have their own special on-campus groups or something?

But even then, Yanthor claims that a lot of people who graduate here decide to stay and live in town. If so, one would think they might then become involved at a larger community level. But it appears not to be the case.

In considering religious affiliation, I could also question why the typical age of members would even be relevant. On a spiritual quest, does it really matter whether our copatriots are 5 years old or 50?

I suppose it's geneally easier to socialize with people in one's own age-group. Also, for those who are single (such as myself), a church with people in the same age range could make it easier to find a match whose religious views are compatible.

Well, even if there are very few people near my age, I intend to continue attending the church for at least a few more weeks. The fact that the minister included some explicitly gnostic material in his sermon was a BIG positive sign. Also, the information about the Elaine Pagels event, which I would otherwise have known nothing about, means that I gained something of value by attending. I'll be back next Sunday.

...

Today at work, I was taking out the trash. One of the outdoor garbage cans was lacking a liner. Yesterday, it had been the same way. At that time, we had said "screw it", and left it full of trash. Those things (which also have water, paper towels, and squeegees attached) are heavy and bulky. But seeing it again today, I decided to take action.

I picked the whole contraption up, carried it back to the dumpster, and turned it on its end, wondering why one of my coworkers might be so dump as to empty it without bothering to put in a new bag.

As it emptied, I discovered that in fact, there had indeed been a bag, but it had somehow become dislodged, and was sunk to the bottom of the container. But floating amdist the mess, there was...

A nice, decent-looking pair of jumper cables! Right there in the dumpster, out of the trashcan I had just emptied. I rescued them, of course. My car wouldn't start on Friday. Now I have jumper cables. Uncanny synchronicity.

Here's the thing: Over the past 48 hours, this had been a source of minor turmoil for me. I had been contemplating whether to just give up and buy a set, or go around asking more people (neighbors, coworkers, etc) whether anybody had some that I could borrow. Some readers might ask, "What's the big deal? Why not just go out to Wal Mart and buy some? Then you'll have them for later."

Indeed, though it would be an annoying expense, it's not exactly cost-prohibitive for me. But it would represent still more resources sunk into a vehicle I find myself increasingly weary of owning at all.

This morning, after some vaguely remembered dream visions, I followed the directions of my sleeping mind, and the first thing I did after waking up was to hop on google and check the current kelly bluebook estimated value of my car. How much could I get for it? Probably a little less than normal, since it does have some cosmetic damage.

I looked at the number, filed it at the back of my mind, and decided to let it rest for a while.

Current working theory: That jumper cable, staring at me out of the dumpster, was a message from God. Exactly what God was saying with this, I'm not exactly certain, but I've been thinking it over ever since.

Remember those adventure games we used to play when we were little? (Okay, so some of us still play them from time to time even now.) You'd wander around the map looking for stuff, often engaged in repetitive actions such as fighting monsters, picking up gold, or whatever. But no matter what you did, you wouldn't be able to advance into a new area until you found a certain item. The magic candle, or the high jumping boots, or the hammer.

Of course, the games were designed in such a way that you would always be able to find what you needed, usually with ample hints from divergent sources directing you to the item. Though you might have to look a while, it would just happen to come right within your reach just when you needed it.

If life were like a video game... Not just random occurrences of particles smashing against one another, but designed by forces whose motives and existence are unseen through common vision. If the Archons and the Plemora are engaged in constant conflict, inhabiting an invisible dimension, but operating through our reality...

What does this mean?

If we operate from this premise, it could mean that one of these hyperdimensional beings has, by putting these jumper cables in front of me right when I needed them, sent a signal to me. (It certainly wouldn't be the first such message, nor the last, I suspect.)

I shall interpret that signal to mean that my car still has some use ahead. I'll not be getting rid of it just yet. The game makers would not have put those jumper cables there unless they intended for them to be used in the advancement of the plot.

If it doesn't make sense to you now, it never will. This is the game. The rules are waiting under a rock, three steps south of the fairy fountain. Go.