How in the world can a genetic disorder be an evolutionary advantage for human beings? Check out this episode on Sickle Cell Anemia to find out more.
Author: michaelkilman
Beneficial Flame
There are moments in our lives when we feel the fire of rage.
All is in a fog, all is unclear, all is distorted. Yet in the center of that rage, we believe that there is clarity, that we know what the right course of action is.
We confirm our truth.
We allow our preconceptions to build on perception and solidify. It becomes tangible. To us, there is a kind of beauty in that anger. We lust for it.
Like a flower, it seems to have bloomed from some place righteous, some place justified. And those who will be the victims of our rage will receive their just reward.
Yet after, what does it make? How was it of benefit? Did the flame burn truth into the brow of our enemy?
Most often, anger burns the one who wields it, like one who lit a match and held it too long. Scorched fingers.
Patience douses the fire with water.
Sit in the center of the flame and watch it. Let it burn but do not feed it.
Sit in the center and whisper the sacred syllable, Hung.
Watch it transform.
Watch you transform.
Give it space.
Rest in Mind.
On Arrival: A Sci-Fi Short Story (Audio Version)
Told through a sequence of old data transmissions from an Astronaut trapped on Alpha Centauri BB, ‘On Arrival’ documents the first encounter of humans with alien life. It’s an encounter that might change humanity forever.
Return
Return
It is beckoned by gravity’s song,
Pulled ever forward, ever along.
Dodging left and right,
Hoping to stay out of sight.
The secret is here, in the act,
In the movement, in the contract.
Down it goes, it jerks, it resists,
Until it mergers from a single kiss.
It kisses some more and increases its speed,
It becomes heavy, weighted down, a larger bead.
It clings tight, to the metal, all it knows,
But it cannot grasp forever, it must let go.
It loses its grip and cascades down,
It lands in the water but does not drown.
Instead, it merges, it melds, it becomes,
Connected existence, it succumbs.
And remembers it forgot all that it knew,
Connected and one, the only real view.
Space and potential, potential and space,
Here, at last, it knows a joy it can embrace.
Anthropology in 10 or Less: Religion Part 1: An Anthropology of Religion
What’s the relationship between religion and culture? How do anthropologists understand religion? How do you understand the great diversity of different religions? Find out in less than ten minutes.
Anthropology in 10 or Less: Episode 8: Race Part 3: Eugenics, Social Darwinism, and Human Zoos
In our third part in our series on Race, we explore the consequences of the concept of Race, which included Eugenics, Social Darwinism, and Human Zoos.
The Mastery
The Mastery
It’s all there,
What we once were,
What we are.
It never left the heart.
I assure you.
Patient Shadows can abide in darkness.
And As we walk forward on the grated metal path,
Can you hear that echo against your feet?
It means you’re moving.
It means you’re making progress.
But what progress is needed,
When it’s all there already?
There’s no need to deny it.
I assure you.
Patient Shadows burn in the brilliant light,
They don’t mind.
There’s no pain.
I assure you.
Do you see the path yet?
It’s outlined,
it’s obvious
What’s the matter?
Don’t you trust it?
Your eyes don’t deceive you.
It’s safe,
I assure you.
The shadows is in you,
Why do you run?
Turn,
Stop.
Smell the sweet scent of the flowers.
Or the Fucking Roses.
Does your heart quicken?
It should.
There’s no puzzle,
No pieces missing.
It’s all there.
I assure you.
But don’t listen to me.
Maybe I’m a lying bastard.
Look up,
Walk the path,
See the shadows,
Smell the roses,
Find the fuck out for yourself.
That’s the only way you’ll know.
I assure you.
The Language
The Language
Like scratches of the mad prisoner,
The symbols take shape.
Emergence…
Whispering like ghosts,
My ears only hear,
Their maddening consistency.
Beginning…
Pressing forward out my eyes,
Soft black tears,
Dripping downward.
Then…
Running down my arm,
The ink creeps forward,
Towards its destiny.
Form…
It splashes onto the moth
As colorful as its wings may be,
Black ink still stains,
Keeping forever echoes.
Tattoos of transformation,
Touching timidly
Until,
At Last…
Anthropology in 10: Episode 107: The Sapir/Whorf Hypothesis
Of What Mountains Are Made
Of What Mountains are Made
Heartbeat,
Heartache,
Heartbeat,
Heartache,
Round the circle,
It forms from further away.
Shadows casting nets,
Masking my face,
They don’t let me see through their gaping holes.
All I see is the rope that binds me.
It’s is a beautiful rope and bares further inspection.
See the weave?
See the loom that made it?
See the origins of the great net in which we are bound?
Bound or unbound?
We need only stand.
We need only move.
And the weave unravels.
You have a choice,
Heartbeat
Heartache
Heartbeat
Heartache
Are they different?
Loridian's Laboratory 