extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof

that people get ideas that are wrong is okay, because that’s the scientific method – a process of weeding out the wrong and the weak ideas – peer review and repetition of the experiments and testing observations.

but it’s belief in superstition, the lack of science literacy and too much emphasis on trying to make things be equal that are clearly not close to equivalent

all ideas are not equal

we can’t allow government policy to be based in beleif
but in the rule of law, with the understanding of history and by applying the knowledge, hard won over generations, to make the best and informed decisions between options of differing value and credibility.

on a society and global level
but also within our personal lives

choose freedom

even if it means imprisonment

sometimes, there’s freedom in chains
and sometimes, freedom is about casting off those same chains

Source of Inspiration

I must wear this to work,
that to bed, this to play,
not that instead. How free
am I when social norms, religion,
my need for acceptance rules
my choices? Then there is the
multitude who have so little to
choose from, their worlds limited
by war, famine, illness, poverty
of soul. How free are they?

Most often our values and
opinions are mirroring
something we read, saw, or
heard. Even this poetry contains
ideas that existed before: faith,
jealously, fear, love. How
unique am I, one of billions who
walk the Earth? How free am I?

Yet there is one place where I am
truly free, where no shackle can
exist. Ask Nelson Mandela who was
in an African jail for 27 years.
He was free all those years for no
one could capture his soul. No one
could imprison his truth.

We are free at our inner most…

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well. I know that I’ve met a lot of drips and drabs passing off their realities as real


Source of Inspiration

The high-rise on the corner of City Anywhere has dozens of apartments
housing many realities. If I choose to live there, which story will I pick? In one, a husband kisses his much loved wife as he leaves for work. She returns his kiss and moves to care for their new baby.

In another apartment lives a tattooed, surly teenager who is sure that life will continue to disappoint him. Down the hall, an old woman sighs and wonders how she will pass another lonely day. Yet in other apartments are a prostitute, preacher, drug addict, teacher, each living in their own reality. I can enter their worlds, or even create my own. Or I can remain passive and let circumstances choose for me.

Is life like this? Do many parallel worlds exist? Are we able to move from one to another? Do people who experience alien abduction somehow move…

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Autism Spectrum