Consciouness's Quandary

I believe! What do ya think; a statement that’s mighty powerful? Well, perhaps just a tad. There’s this dude named Descartes, whose spirit is floating around out here who made this big philosophical proclamation, I think; therefore I am. Rational thoughts, at least in theory, are supposed to separate us from the irrational ones of lunatics. I think; therefore I am. Really? Is this the consciousness factor that makes you and me uniquely different from the Pet Rock that someone gave you back in the 70’s?

Do creatures blessed with the most miniscule ability to think possess some rudimentary sense of self-awareness? Does that wormy-like critter squirming beneath the Pet Rock, which decades earlier you tossed out in the yard, have what scientists call a brain? Now admittedly, it doesn’t possess those enviable opposable thumbs or a saintly massive frontal cortex but it does own a basic neuro-network. While munching away on dirt, is the little guy self-aware? Is he thinkin’; therefore he is?

So what the hell is Consciousness? Here I am floatin’ around in space with my energy particles spread across the universe contemplating the essence of earthly existence and trying to figure out more than just the meaning of navel lint. Is thinking the factor that makes us have a sense of consciousness? Is it what defines our awareness? Okay, if that’s true, then, tell me how it is you know you love your child? Or you love your spouse? Or your incredibly handsome dog, or even your God? Can you prove it? Do you think it and therefore you are? Or is it because you believe?

Believing is a gut feeling, an emotional reaction, a sense of just knowing. While beliefs are open to widely varying interpretations and influences, believing, especially if it occupies a space within our hearts, extends us beyond the rational answers or even the irrational ones our thinking brains gives us.

Our earthly forms are composed of elements and matter that each of us shares. But each of you knows that you are indeed YOU. Perhaps some of us do that better than others. But there is certainly something that makes us different than the mass of granite that was your Pet Rock. Then what is your definition of consciousness?  Is it the essence of your Soul? Is the distillation of all your memories? Or perhaps it’s the cumulative memories of all things genetically imbedded in your DNA and passed on from generation to generation.

From my galactic perspective, I’m feeling the embodiment we call our soul is our conscious knowing we can believe. We can possess, on the faith that it is what is real for us, that which is a truth even without it possessing any proof. We can love another and we can believe it! We are consciously aware. We believe: therefore we are! And so are you.

Thanks for tuning in this week. You folks take care and rest assured I’m seeing all of you just as sure as those twinkling little stars are pounding you with their photons.-Dodger

Universal Stupidity

Wow! What a ride. Last week Herr Einstein and I headed off across the galaxy in search of the vastly important answer to the vital question−Where does navel lint come from? Somewhere near Andromeda, I lost Albert as the cosmic wind blew his spirit off course. However while soloing across the vastness of space, I discovered something equally important.

There’s a fabric that runs throughout the cosmos, a force that unites all things, a commonality that makes all of us connected. My discovery is: we are all universally, at one time or another, stupid. Yup! Every one of us has in our possession, moments of extraordinary lapse in intellectual perfection. Even that iconic dude, the one full of gravitational principles, Sir Isaacs Newton, had his “Whoopee cushion” moments.

Here, I’ll use me as an example. I can recall one particularly forgettable moment while I was alive on Mother Earth, when the Big Guy caught me with the “smokin’ gun”. He had some peculiar requirement that I was supposed to leave the Almond Roca treats in the litter box where our pack’s cats had made their deposits. One, less than brilliant, moment of personal clarity, I sauntered up the stairs to the astonishment of my pack possessing the lid to the litter box dangling around my neck like some large collar adornment. See, Stupidity! I’ll admit it. Not one of my more creative endeavors. And I’m here to tell you, there were consequences.

My celestial discovery is that this is a collective phenomenon. We all have our flashes of utter absurdity. This common thread that weaves its connection, bonding us beyond our whizzin’ electrons, is just another example of how similar we all are. None of us is immune. We are related, connected through our moments of intellectual density.

Of course, I’d be remiss if I didn’t share the other half of my cosmic discovery. What is one supposed to do with their inevitable possession of asinine experiences? You are now going to receive Dodger’s heavenly advice for helping all of us deal with this galactic inane behavior.



The Big Guy at a pinnacle momment of idocy.
Photo courtesy of Chase Hartzell



Foremost, take comfort you are not alone in the universe. All of you have, at one point or another, worn an equivalent hat from the top of a litter box. The next effective tool for surviving with your moments of personal lacking is one of self-forgiveness. While reflection and learning from our mistakes is beneficial, keeping one’s self in the present and not dwelling spectacularly in the past is this canine’s way of obtaining joy. In other words, have a short memory and savor what new challenges will cross your path. Yah see, in the future you will be given plenty of opportunities to become reacquainted with your stupidity, so why dwell. Besides laughter at one’s self is, well, just damn therapeutic.

There’s a goal in all of my cosmic dribble. I sense that we are much more connected that we like to acknowledge. The separateness we seek to feel unique drives us apart and creates the undesirable consequence of intolerance. Sound stupid, perhaps. But then again we all have it.

That’s it from this segment of Dodger’s Dribble. Until next time, may all your belly button lint turn to gold dust and all of your idiocy twinklings become spectacularly brief. Herr Einstein, where are you? Albert? Albertttttttt?-Dodger