The Scarlett Stain

 

“He who ignores the Law of Probability challenges an adversary that is seldom beaten.”  Ambrose Bierce

 * * *

It’s a waste of time to watch paint dry or speculate on the numerical quotient of angels on the head of a pin. The same might be said of trying to compute the coefficient of probability on the details of our life. Interesting, maybe, but useless.

I’m having spaghetti for dinner the other night. Red sauce, marinara, capers, garlic, the good stuff. I’m wearing a white shirt. I don’t have to spell it out for you. You know what happens. It’s the Law of Affinity at work…white attracts red.

A crimson-coated noodle falls from the fork. The scarlet speck grows. The stain takes hold, spreads like a metastasizing alien. You know the problem. Another shirt, victim of spaghetti.

“Quick,” she says, “get some Oxy on it. Maybe you can salvage it.”

 I give it a squirt. Useless. So, I just sit there disgusted, wondering about the Law of Probability.

“Do you think it’s probable that I could ever have a meal without food leaving its footprints on my shirts?” It should have been a rhetorical question.

Unmoved by the disaster, she replies, “Yes, if you don’t wear a shirt. But then you will have to dine outside with the dog or do take-out.”

Suddenly I’m relating to a tune by Mose Allison, “I don’t worry about a thing ‘cause I know nothing’s gonna be all right.” I could have written those words.

I think back to my college days when it took two attempts to get a passing grade in Statistical Analysis. Math was not my best subject. If simple ‘on-a-napkin math’ won’t work, I’m doomed.

I ended up having to take that course in night school where most of the students were older and slept with their heads on the desk. I remember one night when the professor discussed the Coefficient of Variation, or Probability Theory.

I became distracted, confusing coefficient with coed. Not that there is any apparent relationship between the two, but it did occur to me that it might help evaluate the dating risk involving coeds. Three of them, as a matter of fact. All in the same sorority.

I flip through the formula of evaluating probability of certain situations. This is what I recall it looked like: (3 x 3y) = PA.   By way of explanation, 3 is constant; 3y is variable. PA is Probability Axiom.

So, I apply the formula to my dilemma to determine the risk of failure: 3 represents the constant, the number of girls I’m dating; 3y represents the variable (in other words, random events that could happen in any dating relationship). The PA indicates there is a high-risk probability of no long-term success.

After class I head to the sorority house for my date with # 2 of the 3. You already know how it goes. It’s the night I affirmed the Probability Theory.  All three welcome me at the front door.

Like I said, math was not my best subject. Apparently, coeds weren’t either.  But it did reveal one positive result: I had more ambition than brains.

There’s probably a moral, or at least a metaphor that can be gleaned from the scarlet stain on my shirt and crimson stain on my character. The shirt can be replaced; the shirt of character is worn daily. There’s only one way I know to clean it. Ponder that and repent.

* * *

Currently I’m studying the coefficient of probability between the relationship of ambition and brains. Initial results don’t look promising.

 

Bud Hearn

April 25, 2022 

When Faith Falters, Then What?

 

Easter opens the door to Spring. Flowers are blooming, leaves are green, and pollen wakes up our slumbering allergies. Nature is coming alive again. 

For Christians, it’s a time of reflection and renewal in the vicarious reliving of the final days of Jesus’ life.

The Jewish Festival of Passover was a time of high religious enthusiasm. Perhaps a spectacle resembling a religious Mardi Gras. We can only speculate. 

In the Biblical accounts we’re struck by the cast of characters in the scene. What were they thinking? It brings to question the foundation of their faith. Here’s the short list: 

The multitude mingled

Jesus prayed

Disciples slept

 

Judas betrayed

Peter denied

Pilate plotted

 

The soldiers tortured

A thief repented

The disciples hid

 

The spectators mocked

The women wailed

Jesus crucified

 

If we had been there, what role would we have played? 

Emotional fervor intensified during Passover. The multitudes expected miracles. Euphoria energized everyone. But here comes Jesus, the Son of God, the Redeemer of Israel riding in on a donkey. They’re perplexed, confused. Their faith falters.  

Emotional faith comes easy, but it lacks solid foundations. Its zeal is short-lived. It’s a single raindrop that evaporates in the desert heat. It’s a faith that leans on a weak reed. It has the handgrip-strength of a newborn baby. 

Life’s events define us by our responses: 

When Life kicks down the door

And assails us like a beast,

When its teeth rip raw our flesh

And tears drip down our cheeks,

When all of life seems hopeless,

Where do we go for faith? 

This was the life Jesus found in Jerusalem. Where did he go? To the Garden of Gethsemane. What did he do? He prayed. Where do we go, and what do we do? 

Our faith is strong when we’re healthy, prosperous, satisfied, trouble free. But in life’s crises faith seems to flee, to forsake us. Take heart, we’re not alone. Scripture says all forsook Jesus and fled. Even on the cross Jesus cried, “My God, why hast you forsaken me?” 

Crucifixion is barbarism on display. Can any faith withstand this? 

We’re vicarious spectators at a distance when Jesus is betrayed, arrested, arraigned, condemned, beaten, crucified, dead and buried. We’re cowards behind closed doors along with the disciples. Like them all, we’re often confused, conflicted, perplexed. Where do we go from here? 

Maybe we can relate to Peter. He said, “I go fishing.” His faith faltered, like ours does. Others joined him, returning to what they knew, to the place where Jesus first found them. But Jesus found them again. That’s when the subject of “fishers of men” came up. 

The good news is that God will find us again in spite of our faltering faith. He will again whisper, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” Faith can always be found in God’s promises. 

Soon Easter egg hunts will end, the Easter bunny will return to its burrow and the Easter lilies will wither. We’ll be left to ourselves. Where will God find us? Think about it. 

This Easter may the resurrection life of Jesus find us again, revitalize our faith and empower us for greater service to Him and our neighbors. 

 

Bud Hearn

April 14, 2022

 

  

Thinking

 

Cogito ergo sum…I think therefore I am. Rene Descartes

* * * 

Bogey greets the red fire hydrant. It’s on our morning walk route. It’s a magnet for him, and others. Not me, I’m not a dog, but I can relate to the call of nature. It’s the island’s puppy post office, the pee-mail deposit center.

Today he gives it a cursory sniff. Apparently, no morning gossip yet. He sits and stares at it for some time. He seems to be thinking. It’s useless to inquire what he’s thinking. As my brother once said dismissively, “Imagine a brick wall.”

It doesn’t matter if he’s thinking about something or nothing. He’s thinking. By the very process he is existing, which confirms Descartes’ theory that to think is proof positive that one exists. Which seems so self-evident that it would require no additional postulation. But hold on, what constitutes thinking?  

First, let’s state the obvious: Politics aside, it wouldn’t be a long stretch to affirm there’s a lot of ‘I-am existing’ going on without much thinking. Thinking needs definition. Read on.

The Scene. Morning coffee, a dimly lit room. A married couple at the table. Too early for conversation. Silence prevails. Existence is questionable.

He’s staring out the window at something, maybe a tree, or a red fire hydrant. The object is irrelevant. She’s reading the newspaper. The air is weighty. She breaks the silence:

"What are you doing?” she asks.

“Existing.”

“Huh?”

 "Thinking. Therefore, I exist.”  

“That’s questionable. Thinking of what?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s stupid. How can you think of nothing?”

“Easy. Focus on something besides myself. The dog does it.”

“He’s a dog.”

“Right. He’s not searching for nirvana, just existing.”

“Who calls that ‘existing?’ You need action to exist, to confirm you’re alive. Where did you come up with that notion?”

“French philosopher, Descartes. I’m confirming his theory”

“How can you possibly think of ‘nothing?’”

“It’s like this, see? If I start thinking of something, then the problems begin. So, I think of nothing.”

“What kind of problems?”

“Life’s details.”

“Life is full of details. You can’t escape them.”

“Right. That’s why I think of nothing.”

“That’s double stupid.”

“Not really. Look, if I start thinking of ‘something,’ then it might confuse me, lead me down dark alleys. I might even come to some strange ideas, maybe ideas about you. It’s hard to know what to anticipate when you think of ‘something.’  Dangerous, too.”

“Now I’m confused.”

“It’s simple. When you think of ‘nothing,’ you’re safe. You know you exist. And when you think of ‘something,’ why it might lead to conclusions. That’s the beginning of sorrows. You might then be compelled to action, to actually have to do something. Then that might make your ‘existence’ hell. No, it’s better to think of nothing.”

“Well, you must be thinking of nothing most of the time then.”

He ignores the comment and resumes thinking about nothing. But now she’s thinking of something. She pictures him as a red fire hydrant and says to herself, “If only I could lift my leg…”.

* * *

There is no moral or message to this story, or for that matter no redeeming purpose whatsoever. It simply exposes the unlimited minefields the mind can avoid while focusing on a red fire hydrant and thinking of nothing.

Take my advice, start your day by ‘petere nihil et raro deesset…Aim for nothing and you’ll rarely miss.’  How about this for a philosophy?

Bud Hearn

April 4, 2022