We met our Bend friends from the Socrates Cafe at the campground just before sunset for an overnight camp-out. Debbie and I walked the fifty yards down to the lake to watch the sunset. It was calm, warm and very pleasant.
Soon after this photo was taken we were back at the campfire, and our group got into a deep conversation on the chosen subject, “What is Truth?” This was no light event because at least one of our folks was a professional philosopher. (I leave names out of my blogs, because I don’t want to quote people incorrectly.) Everyone had a graduate degree or at least deserved one. The conversation quickly got out of my depth even though I was paying close attention, but I loved what I understood. I only made few comments, but I did say something which momentarily caught their attention, “Truth seems like a number, like the number one for example, and it can refer to almost any particular that is part of a defined set. Therefore, when talking about some truth it only applies to items within that set. Political truth, logical truth, religious truth and empirical truth are such different concepts that lumping them together searching for a common idea just creates chaos rather than understanding.” I had had a long day with the UUs, and went to bed at 10PM, but I discovered in the morning that my Socratic friends had burned the logs until 1AM. We were awoken by music.
After Debbie and I departed camp, we visited the East Lake resort restaurant, a tiny affair, and had an afternoon snack of coffee, beer, a veggie burger with an egg on it, and a mixed berry cobbler with vanilla ice-cream – all of which were excellent quality. The waitress, Sara, was super-friendly and she had time to have an extended conversation with us. We met one of the other long-time patrons, Brad, now living in Portland, who joined us in conversation for twenty minutes. The local dog, Lillie didn’t seem to be feeling well and she chose me as her safe companion and sat here between my legs, and on my feet until we had to go. Yesterday and the day before, I had a similar relationship with Coco, a retired guide dog, except that Coco was feeling very healthy. I don’t own a dog now; I haven’t had one since Tiger died of old age many years ago, but I have loved dogs since my infancy. In fact the word “doggie” is in my baby-book as the first word I spoke, at age six months.
A short drive along the highway, back toward Bend from Paulina Lakes, is a mountain-size obsidian flow. We climbed up for about a mile on the prepared trail. Halfway up we found an older guy, sitting beside the trail, who might have been having a heart attack, so I gave him the aspirin I carry in my wallet for just such situations. He was with his wife and there were other people there too, who seemed to know him, to help him, so we continued on up the mountain.
This photo of the eutrophication enhanced lake was taken about one quarter of the way we walked up the obsidian glass mountain.
All of this is shattered glass and very sharp. This blog post is a mere taste of my last 24 hours. A was a wonderful day, but last night was below freezing, and I didn’t sleep well, so I am happy but tired.