The Ring

The Ring

The morning started the same way they always had. He woke up, ran to the bathroom where his dad was, took up station on the commode as the only available seat, and watched his father getting ready for work.

Every morning he awaited this time with dad with anticipation. This was a special time of day for the both of them. He would ask questions of all kinds, musing about all the different topics his young mind could muster and Dad would answer them with a smile.

Dad drew the raiser up his neckline and plowing a small row through the snow like shaving cream sticking in the shape of a beard upon his neck and face. “If girls are equal like sissy said, why do you hold the door for Mommy and let her go first everywhere?” Dad smiled in his usual manner, taking care not to knick himself from the slight chuckle. “Son, the world needs balance, it needs beauty, and it needs the touch and creative force of women.” I hold the door for your mommy because I am humbled and honored that such a wonderful creature decided to share her life with me. We hold the door for all women because regardless of the standards people set for themselves, we choose to honor the essence and wisdom of women, not a particular woman. We call it chivalry, and we do it for us as much as for them.”

He understood some of what his dad had said, more importantly his dad showed him how important he was every morning by answering his questions.

The shaving completed, the after shave in place, the shirt tucked in tightly, shoes shined, dad completed the ritual the way he always had. He put on his giant gold ring with the lodge symbol on it. It always ended with dad reverently putting on the ring. Dad kissed his forehead and headed for the living room where he would kiss mom as she readied herself for the drive to work after dropping him at school.

“Dad, why do you always get so dressed up for work?” “It’s for the ladies he said with a wink and then a laugh.” “Your teasing dad!” he said. “I am little buddy. It’s the inside of the man that is important. The way he loves, the way he chooses to worship, the way he thinks and feels. But, the outside of the man is a nice way for your old dad to try and reflect how I feel on the inside. Daddy wants people to know he values them, he values himself, and he values his community…so he dresses for it.”

Dad had just finished putting the collar stays in and synching up his tie. Dad double checked to make sure all was in place, slide on his lodge ring, kissed him on the forehead and off for another day.

As he grew and the teen years moved in, he visited less with dad, but still peeked in for council during the morning hours when something important loomed. “Dad, John Garry said he is looking to fight me, I’m not afraid, and quite frankly I wouldn’t mind shutting him up.” “Is he an idiot?” “I think so.” Dad squared his shoulders and made eye contact, but kept a softness to his features that showed caring and concern, “And he thinks this fight would be a good idea?” “I guess so?” the boy said. “Why would you follow an idiot? Look son, I can’t stop you if you choose to fight. You will win I am sure. But in a few ways you will lose. You will have followed a bad idea by a person you have little respect for. If you are going to follow, then choose your leaders wisely when allowed. In this case, you can choose not to fight. If this other boy leaves you no alternatives, provide him his penance and don’t use any more force than necessary to defend yourself.”

The ring was put on in its normal fashion and this time a hug as dad headed for the door.

It would go like this for many years. It was funny, but those talks would prove a powerful potion through the college years and during times of stress and frustration. He could even here his dad’s voice delivering its wisdoms and witticisms when they were needed. He fell, like many do, made some bad choices here and there, but again, his dad’s voice, “Son, they’re called regrets, everyone over about the age of 12 has them. The difference between the victorious soul and the defeated one, is that the victor got up, dusted himself off, learned his lesson, and moved forward. The forward part is important son. People are always looking for a direction, but backwards is a direction too. Keep your head up, your mind open, and life will never be an obstacle by itself.”

It was hard for him when it first happened. Harder for his dad he thought. He had first noticed it when they had brought the grandkids over for a Sunday visit. Dad refused to live anywhere but the house he grew up in, even after all of the kids were gone and mom had long since passed away from cancer. But that Sunday he noticed it. Dad’s shirt was not tucked in.

He flashed to watching his dad’s dressing ritual every morning the meticulous care he took of himself, even after he had retired. Dad always shaved, always combed his hair, and always got dressed in a fashion that led you to believe he was expecting company at any minute. He always had a smile ready and fresh pot of coffee was only a moment away.

“Dad are you feeling okay?” “Sure,” he said with a questioning look. “Well its just that your shirts not tucked in.” Dad looked down as if seeing his own clothes for the first time that day. He began to slip a little from there and it was months later that he convinced him to move into the city and stay at their house. It was the grandkids that did the trick.

As the disease progressed, he found that he had done more and more for his dad, who, losing some of his memory…still wanted his morning ritual more than ever. Its just that dad didn’t have the ability to do it anymore. First he shaved for dad, fearing that dad might cut himself, then came combing the hair, and one day, much to his father’s dismay, he needed help getting out of bed, getting dressed, and making it to the living room.

He saw them the day of the ring. The day that he had to put dad’s ring on for him as his hands were shaking to much for dad to do it himself. Dad stopped him and grabbed his hand. Dad rotated his son’s hand palm up and stared into his son’s eyes for a moment. He placed the ring into the palm and shut his son’s fingers around it as best as he could.

His voice did not come easy these days, but this was important and it needed to be said. “Son, some men join the lodge, take their oaths, carry a dues card, and show up to the meetings. Some men, men like you, live the life son. They put their chest out, they love with their whole heart, they work hard, they hug kids and kiss their wives with tenderness.”

He could see tears in his dad’s eyes and tried to remember a time he had ever seen him cry. Dad continued, “They care for their old dad in such a way that the old man never loses his dignity and pride. You might not be a member son, but you can wear this as much as any man I have ever met. I love you boy.”

The funeral had been at high twelve. Dad didn’t say why, but wanted it way according to the will and so it was done. He had intended on burying his dad with the ring when one of the men from the lodge had come up at the viewing. I’ve got a ring here for your dad. He called before he died and said to bring it. That his ring would be yours now….so put that ring on or back in your pocket, but your dad made me promise you would keep it.”

They removed the blindfold and he saw them there. The men from his dad’s…from his lodge. He was kneeling and had just taken his oath when the tears began and he couldn’t stop them. His dad would have wanted to see this, he would have wanted to be there and he had always been too darn busy to join and share this with him. Why hadn’t he done this sooner?

The thought of regret almost consumed him and threatened to steal the beauty of the evening. The initiation part of the night over, the lodge was handling some simple business when the Master of the lodge called for “good of the order” and old Mr. Henry from his dad’s office stood up. He was the same man with the ring at dad’s funeral months before.

He cleared is throat and said with his gruff voice, “I’ve got something I need to read Worshipful.”

Mr. Henry looked at him square in the eyes and said, “Your dad made me promise to read this when the day came.”

“Son, I knew this day would come and I promise you that I was there in the light when you received it. You see, I had my speech prepared. When the good lord asked me what I had done right, I asked him to take a quick peek at you. I squared my shoulders and said, ‘Lord, if I can simply be judged as half the man my son has become, I would be most gracious.’ My spark has rejoined the flame son. It was an honor to sit in lodge with you tonight, and the view from here was spectacular. I love you boy.”

The next morning as he shaved, combed his hair, slide on the ring and stared down at the greatest little boy God could ever create, he found himself chuckling as his son said, “Daddy, can I ask you a question?”

Eddie and the Macro

Like many of us, I glue myself to the morning news to listen to how AIG is squandering our assistance, how another 800 billion this or 800 billion that is going to double the rate of inflation and the like. I wonder how could such a small group do this and get away with it in the face of so many people.

“Hold them horses,” a few are saying right now and claiming that Masons don’t discuss politics. The heck you say. Masons better discuss politics. They are some of the best and most intellectual and caring men I have ever met and if they don’t take an interest there are going to be bigger problems in and with our country still.

To my point, and none too soon, as I am always in danger of being lost in a good story or some random ramblings—The Lodge as a Macrocosm of society and the lessons it has taught me.

Brother Eddie (the name is made up) is dutiful if nothing else. He makes every meeting, sits in the southeast next to the secretary’s desk with a long line of past masters that always sit in the same spot. They hold a kind of court. They scream out violations of parliamentary procedure to keep things on track, the screaming out of which is a violation of parliamentary procedure. They like to yell out the helpful word when one is missed on ritual and on a good night about half are yelling out the same word.

Anyway, Eddie never votes yes. He disagrees all the time. Not sure why, but we count on his no vote on every issue…even paying the bills.

Eddie, in our world is the extremist. Any and all extremist. I don’t mean this in the whole terrorist type sense…I mean those who hold views to the hard or extreme rights and lefts, always voicing their discontent on every issue. These are the one issue folks who honestly believe that every vote against their issue will destroy the world. They are happy to call names many times, fling a little mud, and then cry foul when you disagree with them even respectfully.

Back to Eddie—for forty years he has been voicing his opinion, and for about 38 years no one has listened. He used his voice a little too much, he nullified his own opinion by never quieting his passions. His vote in lodge is nullified by automatically being considered a no and his opinions are thus disregarded. He is considered as part of the process without making so much as a shadow of an impression on the minds of his fellows.

Masonry teaches many wonderful truths. One of them is the power of timing. Masons stand of the portico of the world between hard and right and wrong and stare into the Masonic world of potentiality. The possibility that there are several rights and several wrongs, or none of either, is a powerful potion for the mind. It can drive one mad, or set them free depending on the perspective.

I believe (this is important here, because these are my opinions) that the waste in the world, the theft, the extraordinary arrogance of ruling classes is made possible by the silencing of the voices by their own screams. When a society becomes chalk full of Eddies, the voices, rising collectively in their musical and anticipated whine, are so loud, they are never heard and simply discarded as part of the process. A small hiccup.

What if? What if we lived in a world where people sat back, contemplated the totality of a situation and cared for its outcome. What if we sat quietly for just a moment and then acted fast and firmly with decision and determination.

The man with the scythe stands behind her in the degrees. She weeps for that which is lost…for the loss of strength. Time has destroyed the crier and the screamer and stands poised to cut down beauty, the beauty of freewill and free choice if we do not heed the warnings.

Masonry teaches the power of words, well spoken ones. It also, via Eddie, taught me the powerlessness of words and how quickly they can come to mean nothing at all.

Pick your battles, pick your time, and choose your words wisely. Call a crime a crime, forgive the small ones, and don’t pretend that your opinion is the right one because it feels better. Stand on the portico of Masonry and look into your world from the lodge applying the lessons you have learned. Take an interest and labor in the quarry of your community, but do not ramble, do not scream, and do not believe that rhetoric without action will solve a thing. In many cases it might help to silence the masses as we all scream our wasted cries in unison.

Find the courage that you found as you were reminded that implements of man, to include your words, can be virtuous or torturous, charge forward, your faith is well founded, practice silence when necessary, and approach your world with balance.

That is the Relevance of Masonry, balance in a world that can’t find it and men whose voices are powerful because they are not allows billowing.

No Second Chances

He had known about the assignment for weeks. He didn’t want to do it, he had little interest in old English literature and nothing seemed more boring or pointless. Wrestling practice, Sophia Calloway, and several other things in life had taken his attention and upon close inspection by him, seemed more worthy of his time.

So, in the end, on Wednesday he showed up with no paper in hand, and a really great story. Mr. Philips, the 22 year old recent college graduate and newly crowned high school teacher, had learned how important self esteem is to his students and he provided an out. He would hate to see this young man fail and damage his ego…er um self esteem. So, more time is given with little thought to those that actually completed the assignment on time.

We had Dr. Casey Blood speaking in lodge the other day. Dr. Blood is a quantum physicist and Sufi mystic. He was relating an excellent presentation of the mathematical evidence for the existence of a soul and explaining his belief systems for what might happen to such a thing in this cycle of life.

The question of a “hell” came up as well as reincarnation and Dr. Blood’s response has caused me to contemplate much. He said, stating it as his opinion, “I think you get one shot.” He followed up with the belief that if your soul fails to progress it simply ceases to exist. Can you imagine…one shot or you simply cease.

I wondered how much different our lives would be if all things were approached with such speculation. How often would we choose to remain idle or ignorant if failure meant that we would simply no longer be?

There is a lesson in Masonry that goes hand in hand with such a philosophy. Work. Masonry is work, progression is work, self improvement is work, raising a Brother is work, morality is work. Labor is revered in the Craft, so much so that our allegories are inundated with it. We labor in the quarry of life and spirituality with our respective “working tools.” Masonry is work.

I thought of the times in my life that my actions or words were based on the very fact that I believed I could take it back or repair it later. The consequences, weighed even briefly, seemed tolerable and the “right” or moral choice was not picked.

I mused on the times that I had neglected something important in my life with the belief that I will choose the other “next time.” What if there were never a “next time.” How many times had my beautiful little boy run up to his daddy for a little playtime and I refused because I was tired or busy? What if there was never a “next time.”

What would my priorities be if there was never a next time?

There are teachings in Masonry about the ideal man, three times he is given a chance to fail, and three times, even unto death he chooses morality, courage, and secrecy.

I decided that day that I would try a little experiment. I decided that I would stop living my life like I might get a second chance. I would stop believing that finality was negotiable. I would live like every chip from my rough ashlar would count like the first chip and that it might be the last.

The relevance of Masonry? In a world where self esteem is more important than the truth, in a world where the third chance is the norm, in a world where consequences are subjective and up for compromise, in a world where justice depends on the quality of the attorney……I will choose to live my life like a Mason…I will choose to do the right thing first, for its own sake. I will fail and I will stand ready for the consequences and I will continue to work, without compromise, for that perfect stone.

Welcome to Leadership

It was the big weekend soccer game. The tension hung in the air like a warm fleece blanket, as welcomed as one on a stifling summer day. The minivan was loaded, the mini-players ready to run, kick, jump, and slide. It would be a big day, one to remember regardless of the outcome. Dad had always said it was not winning that mattered, it was how you played the game.

Dad always said that….but today he didn’t really show it. He screamed profanities from the side lines, he yelled at the referees, he shook his head in disappointment so many times that the little guy had lost count.

Years would pass, Timmy was now coaching soccer and the method he tended to employ was the yell, bicker, scream technique. He had been honed by the example of his father and now this was how he chose to lead.

I have heard it said that leaders are born and not made. Hogwash I say. Leadership is not completely genetic and the role models in our lives and the systems they put in place have much more to do with our capabilities as leaders than some X or Y chromosome floating about.

As important as leadership is, there is very little in the way of productive leadership formation in the community for the young adults entering that community as contributing members. How many times have we looked at a political race and said, “Geesh, I don’t like any of the choices.” Yet, what do we do collectively as a community to raise the next set of leaders for our local HOA to the Presidency? If we, as a society do not take an interest in raising our leaders, who will?

I have recently found myself in several leadership type roles within Masonry. I have had the opportunity to help grow education, to help grow a lodge, to help progress Masonry. I love Masonry and want to serve it, but to help lead it, to guide it?

I have been filled with doubt lately as more responsibility is placed upon my lap. I wonder if I will make good and right decisions that will be lasting and do the most possible good. I wonder if not only will I render my decisions effectively, will I deliver the information properly so that it is well received and well executed. I wonder why me?
I have laid awake at night and wondered if the Craft has done itself a disservice by putting so much trust in me.

It hit me the other day like a ton bricks, my responsibility to the Craft, and then a kind Brother helped me to understand.

First, when you sit in the East and look out upon a group of men that you respect, that you look to as friends, Brothers, and mentors; as they look back to you as a leader, they never loose sight of the fact you are their Brother. From the time you are initiated into the Craft, this body of men is building you as a leader. They sculpt you, hone you, and chip away at you. They give gentle guidance, firm redirection, and use persuasion to explain to you. You are not in the East alone, you do not sit by yourself, you sit surrounded by men who continue to guide you and grow you. The position is one of humility, first your friends instruct you, and then let you use that instruction in the form of leadership.

In a world where children are raised by the XBOX and the idiot soccer Dad is the example, Masonry teaches a kind humility and social confidence. It builds leaders out of good men, it seeks to improve the man, and the man then seeks to improve his community.

It is no accident that so many of the world’s great leaders were Masons. Masonry naturally refines good men, so that they can one day be leaders in their own lives, and sometimes, in the lives of their community.

Second. I shared my fears and doubts with a friend of mine in the Craft. He said, “So, sometimes you doubt yourself? Sometimes you don’t get any sleep while you worry? Sometimes you have to give a lot of thought to your decisions?” He paused, “Welcome to leadership.” He went onto explain that the man who believes himself perfect for the role and has little doubt in his abilities is likely arrogant to the point of failure. That the best leaders care and care deeply…and this is not a fault.

In a world where we complain without a solution, where we find fault for its own sake, where our leadership training in life is to “knock them down a peg,” Freemasonry is quietly and consistently growing leaders of their own lives, confident men who care about their choices, who have the courage to fight through doubt and make a decision, even when it is difficult to do so. So you have doubts, so you wonder if you are making the right decisions, you care that deeply about yourself, others, and your world….welcome to leadership…welcome to Masonry.

The Royal Secret

They didn’t dress very nice, always looked a little like the entire family had been dumped from a bag. They tried, their hair was combed, they were clean, but always a little haggard. Dad worked three jobs to make ends meet, but still found time to put Jimmy in soccer and to make the games. Mom worked two jobs, both under the table type stuff, and the money went a long way to making sure the car ran and the house payment was made.

When the offering plate was passed, they put money in, for those less fortunate than they. For on this Christmas Eve, they would have a nice family dinner.

Yet, in the upper middle class neighborhood brimming, the large church with a membership into the thousands, this family was “different.” Not in a good way as the Christmas Christians packing the parking lot with Toyota Highlanders and mini-vans of various types and sizes packing the pews would leave, in a church packed to the gills, the remainder of this wonderful front row empty. No one wanted to sit next to the poor family.

Prior to services begining the pastor would make a plea for involvement in the church, explaining that the new “small groups” programs would begin in January with the New Year and to please sign up early to guarantee a spot. You could hear all the programs rustle as people began checking off the groups they would participate in. A lady stood in front of the church and spoke of their bread ministry where they would bake loaves of bread and drop off a flavorful banana bread or zucchini bread to the door of every new visitor to the church with a small informational brochure in the event they decided to return.

These are “good and loving” people as the pastor would describe his parishioners later in the evening, yet the pew remained empty except for the “poor” family.

Many of the Prada bearing PTA moms would discuss how the church program handing out groceries for the poor was a huge success as they sipped Starbucks coffee in the church “café” following the service. The poor family headed home quickly to their own dinner. Dad never could stomach paying three dollars for a cup of something he could make for twenty cents. The whole practice seemed wasteful in a world where waste had become common place.

The Prada parade would head to restaurants where only half of the over portioned meals will get eaten, the rest disposed of so that their waist size doesn’t get too big when the other girls in the Pilates class will all be looking for who may have gained a pound during the holidays. The poor family will freeze leftovers and nothing will go to waste. Yet, their pew remained empty.

It would seem sometimes that we allow ourselves, in our busy lives, to believe that the ills that have befallen the world are their own fault. They have not worked hard enough, they are lazy, or they drink too much, etc. Our life, because we have been lucky and because we have worked hard, is blessed. And, since we own your blessings more than we should and because we believe ourselves separate from the remainder of the world, we are disconnected from it and do not see the unity of it all.

This disconnect can manifest in many ways. A church full of “good” people who will help the poor so long as they don’t have to sit next to them or share their god with them is only one common example. As harmless as this might seem there is a danger in it.

The Christian that can fail to share a pew is the Christian that can feel removed from their community. This is the Christian that can feel so disconnected that they look upon the affairs of the world, the wars, the sickness, and famine with glee as they hail them as signs of a depraved world and as evidence that the end is about to come. They offer praises of this debauchery as evidence of their saviors return. What if the savior wants us to love and care for our planet, what if we are connected to its oceans and soil in ways that we can never truly appreciate and the stories of this savior are ones that, when understood, call upon you, with intellect and reason, to care for the entire universe, not just a simple planet?

The Muslim that can feel separate from the Christian is the one that can bomb him without thought, can praise the radical, and destroy the peaceful adept.

The Buddhist that can detach himself completely from the world’s affairs is the one that can not share the beauty that exist in his Nirvana.

Let’s jump backwards to one of first lessons in Masonry for minute.

A network, at least to most, would describe some sort of intra or Internet, a wireless network in their house or from their cell provider. But, to the Fellow Craft it is something entirely different. It is described as one of the ornaments adorning the pillars that flanked to doorway to King Solomon’s temple. The lesson the second degree Freemason learns from this, or is supposed to learn from it is UNITY.

I’ve written before of balance and equality and some of the misunderstandings that occur in trying to grasp the concept of balance in regards to esoteric mystical philosophy and I think similar misunderstandings occur with unity, but for different reasons. Balance need not exist. It is a generative product from the creative force of the macro and microcosm. It assists us in an understanding of freewill because it exists as a product of it. In the end, it is likely the universe will balance itself, but this is difficult to comprehend while we ride the ride upon the diurnal rotation.

Unity, on the other hand, exists in spite of us. More importantly, our collective ignorance of it creates a dangerous and deadly situation for us.

Let’s use some word pictures to better illustrate the point and let’s use nature as our guide. There was a time that we, as a collective people, did not realize the connection between earth and water. We thought, as recently as the 1960’s that you could dump something into the ground or bury it underground and be fine. It took scientific discovery to realize that this could affect drinking water, plants, crops, and the people that ingested the water, the plants, and the fish from the water. We did not recognize the connection, but it existed in spite of us. We can choose not to recognize it, but it remains connected, mercury will continue to leech from the ground, to the water, to the fish, to the person.

This line of thinking is equally as dangerous in the philosophical world as well. The failure to recognize unity has resulted in death, war, and hatred.

Returning to the Christian for a moment, consider the early Christian Church since is the most common religion in the world if taken collectively even though they will not consider themselves collectively…keys to heaven, lack of unity, etc. The priest craft was often referred to as “papa” or father. The papa’s began to argue their particular supremacy and the Pope was born. The “papa” or priest craft created a system where the follower of God comes to the priest as an intermediary between them and God. The priest craft itself further divided and the positions of deacons, bishops, and cardinals grew. Now, man had quite the road to travel between himself and God.

If God is omnipotent and omnipresent it is arguable at best that we as a people, planet, or universe can even be separate from him. But, if we fail to recognize the unity of G-d and man, then it is a short step to surrendering our relationship with G-d to the intermediary. Because we fail to recognize our connection and lack of separation with G-d, orthodoxy and dogma appear to create separation. Because this is our perception, we act on it as truth.

The early Christian church, coming to believe its own dogma, divided and separated into factions and the protestant movement was born. Each protestant denomination, believing that the silliest of things can cause separation from G-d, further divided for fear that a relationship with G-d is a fragile thing. Heaven became a far off place with this line of thinking and grape juice instead of wine, Masonic affiliation, or improper dress could buy you a chariot ride to the dark place.

Further, because heaven, G-d, hell, earth, and such are all separate, we are able to commit our sins in private. We can harm and then hope for salvation. We can war against one another and destroy whole peoples because they are separate from G-d.

But if the Muslim and the Jew saw themselves as the heart and eyes of a singular body, if the Christian saw himself as this same bodies legs, would we be so quick to destroy the other? If we understood that the darkest of rooms does not separate us from G-d would we be so quick to murder, to lie, to cheat? How about this? What if the darkest of actions still does not separate you from G-d, from your neighbor, from the earth, from nature, or heaven?

This brings us to the lesson of the 32nd degree of Masonry. Equilibrium. This should not be understood as a concept that exists in singularity. Nor should it be taken to mean that there should be absolute equality in all things. Equilibrium is the result of unity recognized and balance applied.

The most frightening separation that has occurred within humanity is a belief that our consciousness is granted from outside of us, that we are separate from the faculties of reason, logic, faith, and hope. That these wonderful attributes granted by the Creator are without us and not available from within. Know thyself is a physical formula for equilibrium that is simple and profound all at once.

If one man can find himself within, and express it without, the entire universe is changed. We can choose to deny unity, to live out of balance, and to pretend that the universal equilibrium is a dream. Or, we can take responsibility for our actions and own the decisions we make. We can decide to live now instead of seeking a separate heaven while creating a hell of ignorance in the present existence.

This is the relevance of Scottish Rite Masonry.

Monday, Morality, and License Plates

It had snowed the night before and Monday loomed large as a day that was not going to be pleasant. That thought hit home, or more appropriately his arse, as he fell in the driveway in a pricey blue suit, ruining the suit, bruising his butt and ego, and causing a further delay to the day as he would now have to change before proceeding.


Limping to the car, getting in carefully this time, he plugged the key into the ignition, both in a hurry and still dreading Monday; when he was met with a dead engine. Jack Frost had robbed the batteries energy and it would now need a jump. Oh good, he thought, more time in the cold and on the icy driveway.


The car finally started, he began the slippery crawl to work. At the first opportunity a teenager, going way too fast for the conditions, was nice enough to run a stop sign, cut him off, and almost collide with him. They made eye contact, and the temptation to give the single finger salute was great. He started almost, and then remembered, and withdrew the phalange of force, the finger of revenge.


It didn’t take long before some square chinned, small brained giant of a man in an even more giant and jacked up four wheel drive that did not realize that four wheel drive did not always mean four wheel stop and slid several yards before missing our disgruntled Monday commute soldier by only inches. The middle pillar began to twitch again and the fleshy digit of animus almost shot up another time to deliver its delicate message that is consistent in every nation and the same in every city. But, dang it, he remembered and withdrew.


It was at the next lighted intersection his determination would truly be tested. A ninety year old plus women, in a Buick moving four miles an hour, managed to run the red light without even attempting a stop. The little matriarch of mayhem behind the wheel managed to turn her head, provide a toothy grin as she drive right through the intersection, release her death grip on the steering wheel with her right hand, and send up her own one finger salute.


It was almost too much. The anger exploded in him and he reached to roll down the window so that his one finger wave would be higher and so that he could scream the appropriate salutation as loud as he possibly could. Oh, the agony of it as he remembered and stopped himself.
He finally arrived at work, parked, and made it into the office. A hot cup of coffee later and he found that he felt better. He was not as angry as he should have been. It seemed that not acting on his frustration and allowing his acrimony to rule the drive, had allowed agreeability to sneak in and find refuge. He would have to remember that lesson, even when he wasn’t driving that dastardly car that kept reminding him that morning.


That car had Masonic plates on it and it had proved a strong reminder of his commitment to morality. It was amazing how just that little symbol on his license plate had pulled at his conscience and he was uncomfortable displaying behaviors that were inconsistent with Masonic teachings. He, after all, behind the wheel, displaying that plate, was going to advertise for Masonry, what would that advertisement be?


In the end, Masonry had proved powerful and relevant in his life, with a simple license plate.

Equality, Harmony, and other False God's

I had been channel surfing the other day when I came upon a gem of a show. It was called Taboo. It was aired on the National Geographic Channel or NGEO as it shows up on the T.V. Guide channel. The show covers different acts or actions that are considered quite normal in some places or communities, but generally considered unthinkable in another. This particular episode talked of the public killing of animals. The section of the show that caught my attention was a small goat having its throat cut across as its blood was spilled in sacrifice to the god Kali.

Long lines of devotees lined up behind a blood soaked shrine with all sorts of different treasures for sacrifice to Kali. Chickens, ducks, and goats seemed the most common sacrifice for the day and I caught myself wondering if Kali ever wished for a more diverse diet.

The show progressed to the annual killing of a load of pilot whales off the coast of a small island nation near Iceland and Norway likely settled by the Vikings. The whole town would drive a herd or pod of whales to the shore using their boats in unison and then slaughter the whales. The town, in turn, all gets a free share of whale meat in a place where natural resources are hard to come by.

The point of the story has nothing to do with the killing of animals publically for a god or otherwise. As I watched entranced in the story a college professor was interviewed just following the whales. Multiple interviews of people on both sides of the “issue” of the killing of animals were interviewed. This particular professor caught my attention for a twofold reason. One, because the majority of the “anti-killing” side of the argument were claiming or spoke around the issue that this act or these collect acts disturb the universal BALANCE of things. Second, this particular professor said that one of our biggest problems as a human race is that we are SPECIST. This is defined as a person who practices “speciesism,” which is defined as assigning different values or rights to beings on the basis of their species membership.

I decided to address this because it is idiotic and ignorant. It is a ridiculous premise and it scares me that a man educating our populous can so easily espouse this.

The idea is that, in this particular instance, we, as a race of humans, believe the whales as less than equal to us and this allows us to justify doing harm to the whales such as killing and eating them.

The professor said that until we can overcome this deficit and treat all animals as equals, we will suffer these wrongs to the planet.

This is where Masonry enters into the picture. It will take me a minute to get there, but let’s talk about the relevance of our philosophies in the presence of pure stupidity.

Many of the ancient mystical traditions, modern psychology, and some religions teach balance as a philosophy by which person can and should lead their lives. In the more ancient and more Gnostic traditions, this balance creates a unity with G-d, in Jungian terms it allows a glimpse at the collective conscious; all of which are laudable pursuits. The mental, spiritual, and physical benefits of a balanced life are even being recognized the staunch materialist who have difficulty refuting the medical evidence just by itself.

Regardless of the benefits, the antiquity of the teachings, and the number of groups teaching this path, it must be completely misunderstood for an idea such as speciesism to take hold.

Balanced does not mean equal. Let me type that again because it bears repeating, balanced does not mean equal.

I wish there was a way for me to express the long pause in writing, that I would have taken in a room full of college coeds and academic fundamentalist now screaming in pain and calling me everything but a person.

Let’s address the ignorance of the statement from a couple of levels because it so clearly illustrates the misunderstanding concerning a balanced life. First, we classify things as species because this is a way of recognizing DIFFERENCES. Yes, there are differences in things, people, places, and life. DIFFERENCES are not bad and recognizing that there are differences is not bad. We scientifically classed “species” so that we could quickly identify differences and similarities. Being balanced does NOT mean being the SAME.

Second, to be equal we must hold all other species to our standards or allow ourselves to degrade to theirs. So, the eagle of the air and the alligator of the swamp should be tried for their crimes of murder should they kill to eat if we believe the killing of anything is equal to the killing of a human and vice versa. Since it is clearly unrealistic to hold the beast of a field, air, or swamp to a human standard and condition, we, as recognized equals, should hold ourselves no higher than they and revert to their system as equals. We can not declare the beast an equal, allow for a violation of the law on an unequal basis because this is a distinct recognition of inequality.

Yet, it could be argued that we learn much from the natural BALANCE from observing nature. The predator is necessary for population control, the leaf necessary for soil and food for other species. All things are clearly connected, but not all things are equal.

This can be seen in simple action. The man seeking to live a balanced life does not seek an equal amount of evil to goodness, for every good deed he does not immediately seek to commit a wrong against his brother.

Today’s world stage seeks balance through equalization. There are a number of reasons for this, but some of those reasons include cowardice and laziness. To claim nothing is every truly right or wrong, to claim that morality is always relative, to claim that any definition of good, right, and god is a correct definition so as not to disparage any belief system, and to claim that equality is the same as balance are all children of the desire for harmony at the cost of Truth. It is easier not to offend than to take a stand. So, we like to convince ourselves that the truth can never be defined and that all things are equal, when in fact, they are not. The carbohydrate is not the equal to the protein in building muscle, yet both are necessary in a balanced diet. Harmony is not the equal to courage in the journey to the truth.

Courage is not absent from a Masonic journey to balance for reason. You do not stand the test of an instrument of torture for petty reasons, you do not journey from darkness to light without cause, and you do not put your trust in God without it being a necessity. The Truth is offensive to some. It always has been. It is why it has gone underground and is treated as a special treasure, an arc of our covenant.

The terrible thing about the aforementioned theories is they seem decent, likable, loving even. They are quieter than fundamentalism so they seem more socially acceptable. They do not hate so they seem passive. This isn’t so, they destroy. Courage, trust, faith, secrecy, and real balance are destroyed in their wake. Reason, logic, and philosophy are laid at the feet of false security and the god of false harmony.

Masonry remains a guidepost along this path. Real balance will always require discernment, courage, and the ability to declare something false, wrong, and maybe even destructive.