North Charleston, Here I Come

This weekend is the 2022 iteration of the “All Types of Media Arts Convention,” better known as AtomaCon! It’s a small but well-run science fiction and fantasy convention, being held at the Hilton Garden Inn in North Charleston, South Carolina.

I’m going to be busy with a variety of activities this time:

Friday:

  • 6 p.m. — Improv Game, “Whose Con is It, Anyway?”
  • 10 p.m. — Open Filk

Saturday:

  • 11:30 a.m. — Panel, “What Was Your Gateway Book to Fandom?”
  • 2 p.m. — Concert!
  • 7 p.m. — Game, “Well, Actually” (I’m running this one)
  • 10 p.m. — Open Filk

Sunday:

  • 10:00 a.m. — Baen Books Traveling Slide Show & Prize Patrol
  • 1 p.m. — Filk Open Mic (if I haven’t headed home by then)

Should be a good time! and it’ll give me a chance to stop in and see my dad on the way.

If you’re in the area, come by and see us!

___
Related Items of Interest:
Available for preorder! My new album, Taking You Out to See the Stars
– Watch the music video of “Tauntauns to Glory”

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Abortion is Sad Enough Already

I’ve long considered that abortion is a tragedy no matter how we look at it. In the wake of the reprehensible leak of the Supreme Court’s draft decision on the subject, I’ve thought about whether my view of the subject has changed. It has not.

In the final analysis, abortion makes me sad. It saddens me in the essential fact of it, and it saddens me that it would ever be deemed necessary or the best option for a pregnant woman to pursue. I know that my sadness, my emotional response, does not and cannot make it right or wrong. My assessment of it as a sad thing rather than a happy thing, a bad thing rather than a good thing, is my own and can form no reasonable basis for anyone else’s opinion or any policy action.

It just makes me sad. It makes me sad to think of a baby that will not be born. It makes me sad to think of a woman driven to the extreme that it represents. It just makes me sad.

I’ve written about abortion before, and my take on it in “Ladies, Stand Your Ground” was perhaps a bit unconventional. Early in that post I made this statement: “I believe the decision to abort a baby must be one of the most difficult decisions a human being may ever make. I do not intend to second-guess anyone who has made that decision, nor do I intend to criticize or vilify them.” I still believe that, and I still refuse to second-guess, criticize, or vilify anyone for their decision either to have or not have an abortion. I don’t believe it’s my place to do so.

Toward the end of that piece, I wrote

It is possible to wish for every unborn child to be wanted and to be cared for, in utero and beyond, just as it is possible to wish that there might be no thugs, no rapists, no burglars, no threats against people’s lives, persons, or property. Wishing for these things, however, does not make them come to pass, and so we are faced with difficult decisions that have far-reaching consequences.

The fact that these situations exist — if you will, that these evils exist — makes me sad.

I realize that many people disagree. I’ve written before about why we may never agree on various issues, including the issue of abortion. Disagreement can be uncomfortable, and sometimes “Once we have established our relative positions, and do not take the time or make the effort to examine our differing assumptions and premises, [no] argument is particularly convincing.” In that post, I made up two positions on abortion that appeared to me to be diametrically opposed:

  • “I object to abortion on demand despite a woman having the right to subject her body to whatever procedure she chooses, and because of the effect such a procedure would have on a potential human life growing inside her.”
  • “I support abortion on demand because a woman has the right to subject her body to whatever procedure she chooses, and despite the effect such a procedure would have on a potential human life growing inside of her.”

I don’t know that anyone holds either position in such unsparing terms, but they served as examples of positions that seem irreconcilable.


(Image: “Baby Heart Womb,” by Jeff Jacobs, from Pixabay.)

Many years ago, on an old version of my website (so old that I can’t find a link), I presented the “Anti-Candidate position on abortion” as follows:

We like babies. Babies are pretty neat: little miracles of DNA, little potentialities, little images of God. We especially like them when they’re ooh-ing and aah-ing and exploring this world that’s so magical to them and so mundane to us.
We don’t so much like changing diapers.
We know that some people can’t take care of their babies, but it seems as if these days there are plenty of people who can’t have babies who would love to take care of one or two or several. And we like the vast majority of the human race, in general, so we come down on the side of life.
Babies are cool, and mostly so are the people they grow up to be.

Having recently become a grandfather and therefore reacquainted with changing diapers, I can still say it’s not my favorite thing to do — but it’s not so bad. My grandson is a fine little chap, even though he’s not quite to the exploring-the-world stage, and I look forward to getting to know him better.

So I still come down on the side of life, by which I mean the whole of life: birth, growth, discovery, calling, relationship, adventure. I wish that every baby, every child, every teenager, every adult, every person could live a long, healthy, happy, fulfilled life.

Unfortunately, as I wrote before, “Wishing for these things … does not make them come to pass.” (How well I know that.)

So where does that leave me, other than sitting comfortably and signaling my virtue?

It leaves me hoping that this Supreme Court decision, if it comes down even close to the form that was released, results in a more open debate of the issue in state legislatures and even on the floor of Congress. As I recall my Schoolhouse Rock, a law has to first be a bill, and a bill has to be passed to become a law, and all of that is the responsibility of the Legislative Branch. That’s how representative democracy is supposed to work.

It leaves me hoping, if the debate results in legislation, that the law is more graceful, more restorative, than punitive. Abortion — in theory and even more in practice — is difficult enough that we need not pile more difficulties atop it.

Abortion is sad enough as it is. We need not make it sadder.

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It’s Almost Time for RavenCon!

This weekend I’ll be at the RavenCon science fiction and fantasy convention, which is returning to Richmond, Virginia. RavenCon is a great convention, run by wonderful people, and I’ve enjoyed attending and serving as a guest at it for many years.

I wasn’t asked to play any concerts this year – 😔 – so it’s primarily panels for me. Here’s my schedule, if you’re trying to track me down:

Friday:

  • 5 pm — Guests’ Meet and Greet
  • 7 pm — Opening Ceremony
  • 11:30 pm — Open Filking

Saturday:

  • 9 am — Panel: “Influences In Our Writing”
  • 11 am — Panel, “Writing the Alien”
  • 12:25 pm — Reading
  • 4:00 pm — Baen Books Traveling Slide Show & Prize Patrol
  • 7 pm — Panel, “Let’s Get Ready to Rumble: Combat in SFF” (Moderator)
  • Midnight! 🥱 — Open Filking

Sunday:

  • 10 am — Panel: “Energy Sources in Speculative Fiction” (Moderator)

For my reading slot, I’m trying to decide whether to read from a story that’s coming out in an anthology later this year, or from a story that’s slated for an upcoming issue of Analog Science Fiction and Fact. I’ll probably let the audience decide (if anyone shows up!). And I guess I should give a little thought to the panels I’m moderating…. And pack — I should definitely pack.

Looking forward to it!

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Misunderstanding God’s Will

I commented on Facebook yesterday that I think God’s will is very misunderstood.

I think it’s more descriptive than prescriptive. I think of Christ telling us what the kingdom of Heaven is like, with the idea that we might build something even a little bit like it here rather than worrying about what it takes to get us there.

I think it’s less directive and more indulgent. I’m a big fan of free will, so I dislike the idea that God’s will entails God pushing buttons and pulling levers behind a curtain to control what we do. We are like children, and sometimes parents can be quite indulgent when it comes to their children. Sometimes the children suffer for it, and sometimes it amounts to natural consequences.

In short, I don’t think God’s will controls our day-to-day existence, though according to it God may from time to time choose to intervene in our lives.

"If there is one single molecule in this universe running around loose, totally free of God's sovereignty, then we have no guarantee that a single promise of God will ever be fulfilled" - Dr RC Sproul
(Image of waterfall from The TRUTH Will Set You Free, on Flickr, under Creative Commons.)

Then again, it’s likely that I am too conformed to this present world, not fully transformed by a renewed mind, and unable to prove what God’s “good and acceptable and perfect will” is (Romans 12:2), so I may be misunderstanding it completely….

Which was sort of my point in the first place.

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More from Seneca: Unhappiness, and Grief

I don’t mean by that title the small town near Clemson in South Carolina, where we lived in the early 1990s and where our son was born, but Seneca the Younger. Let’s examine a snippet of first century Greek wisdom that particularly spoke to me from Seneca’s Letters from a Stoic.

From letter seventy-eight, for instance:

A man is as unhappy as he has convinced himself he is.

As one who has been battling unhappiness, lack of joy, and even a bit of depression for a while now, I’ve been thinking long and hard about how many of my woes have been, to put it mildly, my own damn fault. Seneca continued,

What’s the good of dragging up sufferings which are over, of being unhappy now just because you were then? What is more, doesn’t everyone add a good deal to his tale of hardships and deceive himself as well in the matter? Besides, there is a pleasure in having succeeded in enduring something the actual enduring of which was very far from pleasant; when some trouble or other comes to an end the natural thing is to be glad.

It is interesting that, because of Seneca’s earlier admonitions against grieving for very long, his reflection here on physical illness — how to treat it and bear up under it — does not include any component of bearing up under grief or other deep, lengthy emotional struggles. I gather from this that Seneca would disapprove of my prolonged grieving, and in particular the up-and-down nature of my grief: its waxing and waning at irregular intervals, its sudden onslaughts and slow, creeping pounces.

But, I don’t need Seneca’s (or anyone else’s) approval for the manner of my grief. We all grieve in different ways, and our griefs are affected by different things we encounter as we go along. My path is my own.

Perhaps Seneca even allows for that, though. I find his phrase “when some trouble or other comes to an end” to be particularly apt, because when does grief end? Some of the stronger emotions may subside, and even the awareness of the absence may fluctuate, but if the separation cannot end, neither can the grief. It may contract, and at times expand, but if grief is the difficulty then it is not a matter of “dragging up sufferings which are over,” but of enduring sufferings which continue.

On the subject of grief itself, something Neil Peart wrote in Ghost Rider (which I finished reading this weekend) struck quite close to home:

I understood that feeling…. Perhaps the first responsibility of a husband and father is to protect his wife and child, and deep inside myself I felt that I had failed at that, too.

I could relate to that because no matter how often people tell me it’s not my fault that Jill died, and also not my fault that I couldn’t revive her, I still feel responsible. And I may feel that way for a long time.

In the penultimate paragraph, of Ghost Rider, Peart wrote,

Sometimes I can almost sustain the high-minded sentiment that it was worth the pain of losing Jackie and Selena [his wife and daughter] for the joy of having known them. I don’t know if I will ever be able to embrace that notion, but the important thing is that I embrace today….

Was it worth the pain of losing Jill, for the joy of having known her? I need to consider that question in more depth. It was worth the pain to avoid her having to go through anything like it; that much, I can say. And the joy of having known her, the privilege of being her husband, were immeasurable. Worth the pain of losing her? That is, better to have never known her than to have lost her? No, not at all. But Peart is right: It is a “high-minded sentiment,” and not one to bear (or perhaps even to think about) for long.

Bust of Seneca
(Image: “3rd century marble bust of Seneca, after a 1st century original,” from Britannica.)

To again return briefly to Seneca, a few notes on some of his other letters: I thought his letter 88, about what constitutes a liberal education, was excellent. Letter 90, on philosophy and the history of mankind, was laughable, and the kind of “back to basics” thing that only someone who has never had to (or tried to) do hard physical labor would write. Letter 114, on literary style, seemed just as true now as it was then.

Finally, I agree wholeheartedly with his declaration in letter 108 that “The more the mind takes in, the more it expands.” I wish for you immense pleasure as you take in more and more to expand your mind!

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Epicurus, Seneca, and Jesus

Let the record show that I am not very well-read in the classics. I’ve read fairly widely–i.e., on a wide range of topics and in a variety of genres–but not in great depth aside from a few favorite authors. (I should probably not admit that, considering my trade these days, but I’m trying to correct that error–if error it be.)

At any rate, I am, admittedly rather slowly, trying to broaden my reading horizons–especially as regards works of antiquity. So for a few weeks this year I read a selection of Seneca the Younger’s letters, which I found entertaining, challenging, and sometimes enlightening.

Bust of Epicurus
(Image: “Portrait of Epicurus, founder of the Epicurean school. Roman copy after a lost Hellenistic original,” from Wikimedia Commons.)

For instance, in letter eleven of the Robin Campbell translation, Seneca quotes Epicurus (whose bust is pictured above) as saying,

We need to set our affections on some good man and keep him constantly before our eyes, so that we may live as if he were watching us and do everything as if he saw what we were doing.

Remind you of anything?

I flashed immediately to the “What Would Jesus Do?” craze: the WWJD bracelets and other accoutrements. Not that Seneca would have had Jesus in mind–the two were contemporaries, but lived far apart and never would have met–nor Epicurus, since he was doing his thing three hundred years before Seneca! But Seneca obviously approved of the idea of fixing our mind on some good person we respect, and acting as if that person could observe us.

For some of us, Jesus fits that description and that role better than anyone else. For others, some other revered person may work better. But it was interesting to see that the idea itself was quite ancient–and who knows if Epicurus didn’t get it from someone else before him? 

And the question this leaves for each of us is, Who will we choose to live as if they’re watching us do what we do?

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Pay No Attention to the Blogger Behind the Curtain…

Consider this fair warning: In the coming days, I may start blogging a little more frequently. Why? Because I’ve got to get this nonsense out of my head.

I mean, sure, I’d love to post things that entertain whoever might stop by. But the entertainment value of these half-formed (and probably malformed) thoughts may be about the level of slowing down to gawk at an automobile accident. If I hadn’t already named the blog “GhostWriter,” I might be tempted to rename it “mental train wreck” or something along those lines.

Anyway, the idea is to get out of my head a lot of weird ideas and unworkable notions, in the (likely vain) hope that they will make room for better, more sensible thoughts. I don’t know how often I will post, and though I make no promises as to quality — they may be well-written or hastily scrawled, cogent and sane or the ravings of a near lunatic — I will try to produce “good words” for all you “good people” who visit.

But I’ve got to get this nonsense out of my head. 

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Coming Soon(ish): Taking You Out to See the Stars

After being postponed last year, we’re back at it for my third album of original music, which (like my first two) will contain some truths, some lies, and some make-believe—but it’s safe to say that Taking You Out to See the Stars will be my most personal project by far.


(As of 27 January 2022, all we have is a placeholder for the cover art.)

To mark the arrival of the James Webb Space Telescope at its designated orbit on Monday, I put up the title song (which you can listen to for free at the link). I’m not sure what the final running order will be or if we might swap out a song or two, but the current lineup of songs is:

  • “Another Space and Time”
  • “Midnight”
  • “Questions”
  • “Remembrance”
  • “My Bonnie Lies Over an Ocean of Stars”
  • “Safely Through the Storm (Legend of the Gray Man)”
  • “Alice Flagg”
  • “On the Prowl”
  • “Prayer for an Epiphany”
  • “Taking You Out to See the Stars”
  • “All That is Gold”
  • “When Earth’s Last Picture is Painted”
  • “How Fair, How Far”

Over the next few months, as we finish additional songs, we’ll upload them until the album is complete. That’ll give me something to blog about once in a while, though I may provide more insight in my newsletter. But if you’re of a mind, the album is available for preorder here!Facebooktwitterpinterestlinkedinmailby feather

Broken Cups of Happiness

A couple of weeks ago, I talked with my daughter Stephanie about happiness, and I likened our capacity for happiness to a cup constantly filling and being drained. I suggested, however, that the cup of happiness from which we drink is, unfortunately and all too often, broken and leaking. Thus our capacity for happiness changes from time to time, most drastically with great losses or injuries or failures.

When we are young, after the initial shock of being separated from the warmth and leisure of the womb, our capacity for happiness seems almost boundless. Witness the innocent and all-consuming exuberance of a laughing child, and the difficulty we sometimes have as we grow older letting ourselves feel and express such joy. This is not to say that every child has the same capacity — it is almost certain that each of us has a cup of a slightly different size and shape, such that our capacities for happiness differ person-to-person — but in youth the cup seems more frequently to overflow.

As we grow, that cup of happiness which was so large and so easily filled gets damaged by life. Chipped. Cracked. Even shattered.


(Image by Hans Braxmeier, from Pixabay under Creative Commons.)

The greater the loss, the more grievous the injury, the worse the failure, the more damage our cup of happiness takes. Even if only chipped along the rim, every break means it cannot be filled as full as before — and those rough edges can cut our lips as we try to drink again. We may find ways to patch the holes or fill the cracks, through some gain or remedy or success, but if our cup of happiness has been badly broken it will rarely hold as much, as safely, as it did before.

And here’s the point I made to Stephanie: Even though our capacity for happiness may be less, that cup can still be filled to its new capacity. Because of that, sometimes, almost miraculously, we find that we are simply as happy as we can possibly be — that we can still pursue things that fill our cup, drink it down and let it fill again, and live good and pleasant lives.

In my personal life, I look back on various things that chipped and cracked my cup of happiness. In the aftermath of Jill’s death,* I might’ve said that my cup had been ground to dust. But I find now that my cup has been patched. Even though I wasn’t sure it could or would ever happen, I’ve had times recently when my cup of happiness has been full — and I can look forward to its being filled again and again as time goes by. It may not hold as much today as it did a few years ago, but I can enjoy it to its new limit.

This metaphor implies something else, for those with eyes to see and ears to hear: specifically, that the people we meet carry cups of happiness that have been broken by troubles they’ve encountered in their own lives, troubles about which we may know little or nothing. And the things we do, with them and for them and to them, can mend their cups a bit … or damage them more, perhaps irreparably. Few of us know what wounds people have already sustained, what fractures and fissures mark their cups of happiness that we might carelessly reopen; fewer of us are emotional surgeons, who can injure intentionally in order to heal eventually; and very few of us indeed are psychological potters, able to present others with new, unbroken cups of happiness.

For my part, I am immensely grateful to everyone who has helped me mend my cup. And I am unfathomably sorry for every time I have damaged someone else’s. May God forgive me.

___

*See my series, “Unprepared for Regret”, which ended with Unprepared for Regret, Part X: Farewell, My JillianFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedinmailby feather

This Weekend: ConGregate!

How nice it is to be going to science fiction and fantasy conventions once again! This weekend’s gathering, ConGregate, has consistently been one of the best-run of all the conventions I attend. This year it’s moved from High Point to Winston-Salem, NC, and is playing host to the 59th DeepSouthCon — which should make it even better than usual!

And, I just might have a surprise in store for my concert!

Here’s what I have going on:

Friday:

  • 5:30 p.m. — Open Filking
  • 7:00 p.m. — Opening Ceremonies: E Como Mai
  • 9:00 p.m. — Panel, “What is Filking?”

Saturday:

  • 11:00 a.m. — Open Filking
  • 3:00 p.m. — Baen Books Traveling Slide Show & Prize Patrol
  • 5:30 p.m. — Concert — the usual mix of silly and serious songs, possibly featuring a special guest!
  • 9:00 p.m. — Panel, “Writing Outside the Lines”

Sunday:

  • 9:00 a.m. — Prayer & Praise Service
  • 1:00 p.m. — Round Robin Filking

I wouldn’t be too surprised if we found some additional time for filking, and I hope to attend some of my friends’ concerts, but as it is the schedule looks both manageable and enjoyable.

Unfortunately, I won’t make it back to the Raleigh area in time for Sunday afternoon’s Research Triangle Writers Coffeehouse, but it will go on as scheduled under the watchful eye of another local science fiction author!

Let’s have some fannish fun, friends!

___
Related Items of Interest:
– Watch the music video of Tauntauns to Glory
– Listen to Distorted Vision and Truths and Lies and Make-Believe
– Visit Gray’s Online StoreFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedinmailby feather