Tag: The Big Bang

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The Solar System, by Pat Gourley

“If the Universe doesn’t care about us and if we’re an accident in a remote corner of the Universe, in some sense it makes us more precious. The meaning in our lives is provided by us; we provide our own meaning.” 

Lawrence M. Krauss

The last sentence of this quote, from the controversial physicist and atheist Lawrence Krauss, I think could be viewed as a synonymous description of the actualized queer person. We have had to, through our multitude of unique coming out paths, provide our own meaning. Many of us have started on our path of self-actualization feeling very isolated and alone wondering what is wrong with me. Most of us though eventually realize how precious we really are. We are the golden threads in the tapestry of humanity.

As modern astronomy has proven beyond a doubt our solar system is phenomenally insignificant in our own very insignificant galaxy. Best estimates from data provided by the Hubble Deep Space Telescope is that there are between 100 and 200 billion galaxies in the ever-expanding Universe. Our own galaxy the Milky Way is estimated to contain between 100 billion and 400 billion stars.

If there is a God, or sole initiator of this whole phenomenon, that entity surely must have a bit more on their mind than whom we, inhabiting the third rock from the sun in this miniscule solar system, are fucking. I mean really get a grip and begin to try and comprehend the mindboggling immensity of the Universe. It really implies an extremely exaggerated sense of our own importance to think the initiator of the Big Bang leading to the creation of 200 billion galaxies is preoccupied with our drama. If there were a hell this over the top human hubris alone should get us sent to hades for eternity.

I will admit that perhaps I have a very immature and un-evolved sense of the spiritual. I will concede there may exist an omnipotent source of direction running through the evolution of the Universe from the Big Bang to date, call it God if you want. Sorry but the comprehension of such an entity at this point in my life is way above my pay grade. It would require an amount of faith-based belief I find really unthinkable and quite frankly a lazy copout. Maybe I could be further along in actualizing the possible reality of this wonder and not having to rely on faith alone, if I spent more cushion-time but I don’t think that is going to happen either.

I actually am quite content thinking we really are the result of a bunch of lucky evolutionary “accidents” that have occurred since living things first appeared on the planet 3.8 billion years ago. When you look at all the countless evolutionary steps and cross roads traversed and we still made the cut it is really something. It is quite precious really.

I was at a very wonderful event recently when two dear male friends decided after 27 years of living together they should get married. Though the words marriage and God were spoken several times during the event it was actually billed on the program as a “Celebration of Love”. I think the institution of marriage was cooked up to control property and women and then their reproductive capacity. I do believe we queers are really bringing our own meaning to it all, to this age old and until recently heterosexual institution.

I was asked to participate by doing a reading or two lasting no more that a couple minutes. It did cross my mind that if there is anything to this God business my stepping into one of his churches might unleash a meteor strike ending the human race right then and there. That did not happen. I was able to read a poem by Walt Whitman and another by Rumi with no detectable dire consequences resulting.

So even if God doesn’t exist and the Universe doesn’t care a twit about us and we are just a happy evolutionary accident in an isolated solar system on the edge of an in significant galaxy it sure is still amazing. As gay people we also get to provide our own sense of meaning and that creative self-realization adds immensely to the human dance on this third rock from the sun.

© October 2016

 About the Author

I was born in La Porte, Indiana in 1949, raised on a farm and schooled by Holy Cross nuns. The bulk of my adult life, some 40 plus years, was spent in Denver, Colorado as a nurse, gardener and gay/AIDS activist. I have currently returned to Denver after an extended sabbatical in San Francisco, California.

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The Big Bang, by Phillip Hoyle

I
don’t easily relate to the expression “The Big Bang” because it sounds too much
like a public relations title for a military campaign, religious movement, or
rock group. It lacks the respect that my theistic background would deem
necessary for anyone’s cosmological explanation. Ironically, the idea was first
conceived by the Belgian Roman Catholic priest and scientist Georges Lemaître. Other
scientists kept working with the idea that eventually was called the Big Bang
by some distant relative of mine, Fred Hoyle, for a 1949 BBC radio show on
cosmology. The theory was denounced by most American fundamentalists as
atheistic. Eventually Roman Catholic and protestant proponents of a variety of
creative evolution approaches offered more sanely conciliatory ways to view the
Big Bang idea. There’s much more to it, but I’m not here to philosophize;
rather I’m here to tell a story—the story of my own Big Bang.
In
contrast to the Big Bang of science, mine did not begin at birth (although my
mother may have had a conservative view of my life as beginning at coitus). My
big bang took place in a San Antonio motel room when I was thirty-two years
old. That night I for the first time got posteriorly assaulted. But do not
mistake my use of the verb assaulted. I wanted it to happen.
My
primordial homosexual atom showed itself present a long time earlier, if not as
early as my mom’s experience, certainly when I began to respond to men as a
sexual, emotional, and relational necessity. My awareness began to take form
when running around with my childhood best friend and learning to kiss with my
male teenage lover. It matured when I experienced what I supposed were
extraordinary attractions to men in my young adult years, feelings that went
far beyond the pangs of sexual desire toward some fuller kind of love like that
described in a poem of the biblical hero David who at the death of his adult
friend Jonathan lamented, “your love to me was wonderful/passing the love of
women” (2 Samuel 1:26 NRSV). I had a quite fulfilling life with my wife and
kids, but still I knew I was missing more, a missing that felt fundamentally
important.
That
night in the motel I came to understand something more I needed. That night I
had kisses and the open male-to-male sex I wanted with an adult. The man, a
really bright, educated minister and a passionately expressive lover introduced
me to the complications of gay life I had read about and was in that motel
experiencing. I was thrilled and fascinated. Apparently it was something
different for him as well—not the sex of it—for he had lived in New York City
as a young man and I’m sure there he learned or at least practiced up on the
ways of gay sex. He had settled into a straight life with gay sex on the side.
But the night of my Big Bang he also experienced something extraordinary that
prompted him to say, “I think I could fall in love with you.”
Like
in the scientific theory, the bang set off an unending series of results. I was
quite taken by him, especially when he followed up later with a contact to see
how I was doing. His care seemed more than pastoral. I would fantasize much
more from our connection but in a couple of subsequent phone calls I heard in
his voice the workings of guilt feelings. At that point I cut off our potential
affair. I wasn’t going to mess up my marriage and developing career to run
around with a guilt-mongering and perhaps paranoid person even if he was male
and sexy and smart. Besides I already had a man I loved and who loved me
although we didn’t have sex.
The
Big Bang opened me to a world of gay complication, something both like and unlike
the Eden preached by heterosexual-championing, marriage-normalizing clergy and Sunday
school teachers, to say nothing of American culture and law. It taught me that
all life occurs in an expanding universe that is potentially as treacherous as it
can be satisfying. That universe continues to move me into much more life and
imagination. I don’t say this as a slogan, but it has been a never-ending
process of expansion since my big bang night. That expansion is the truth I
continue to live.
© 22 July 2014 
About
the Author 
Phillip Hoyle
lives in Denver and spends his time writing, painting, and socializing. In
general he keeps busy with groups of writers and artists. Following thirty-two
years in church work and fifteen in a therapeutic massage practice, he now
focuses on creating beauty. He volunteers at The Center leading the SAGE
program “Telling Your Story.”
He also blogs at artandmorebyphilhoyle.blogspot.com 
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The Big Bang, by Ricky

In 1966 I was a senior at
South Tahoe High School (now the Middle School). One of my classes was Ecology and was team taught by
Mr. Harold Mapes and Mr. Al Hildinger. 
Mr. Hildinger also taught a lapidary class during the evening adult education
program.
Our ecology class was taught
in the biology classroom of the science wing of our school.  At the time, the school was laid out like a
giant letter “E” with the science wing at the top “arm” of the “E”.  The administrative offices and library were
located along the main corridor representing the upright line of the “E” with
other classrooms off the other arms of the “E” shape.  The science wing had five classrooms with the
biology/ecology classroom at the beginning of the hallway followed by the
chemistry classroom, two more classrooms, and at the end of the hall was the
physics room.
On one particular spring day
near the end of term with graduation rapidly approaching, Mr. Hildinger was
teaching our ecology class, as previously indicated, in the biology room.  He was teaching the adult lapidary class in
that same room later in the evening and wanted to have his rock-saw moved from
the physics classroom at the end of the hall to the biology room and asked for
a volunteer to go get it for him.  No one
volunteered.  After waiting a few
seconds, he told me, “Please go get it.” 
I said, “I don’t want to.  I’ll
probably break it.” (I was not having a good day.)  Handing me the key to the room, he said,
“Just go get it.”  I left the room to do
so.
Upon arriving at the physics
room, I used the key to gain entry and immediately saw the rock-saw several
feet in front of me.  It was basically an
electric motor looking to weigh in at about 30 pounds, attached to a mechanism
to hold a rock sample while a diamond tipped circular-saw blade would spin
while slowly moving forward and slicing its way through a rock sample.  The result would be a thin slice of rock to
be turned into jewelry or other item of display.
The rock-saw was sitting in a
large 5 inch deep tray located on the top of a metal cart about 5 feet tall, 20
inches wide, and 3 to 3 ½ feet long.  The
cart was supported by 4 spindly metal legs on small wheels with two metal
platforms located at the bottom and middle of the cart’s legs to provide
stability for the legs and thus the cart itself.  Along with the rock-saw in the 5 inch deep
tray at the top of the cart was approximately 3 gallons of kerosene used to
cool the saw blade and lubricate the rock sample while it was being cut.
The whole contraption was
heavy and did not want to roll very well so I had to push hard to get it
moving.  Fortunately, the cart was
aligned with its long axis towards the door so I was able to push and pull it
out the door into the hallway after draping the power cord up along the
rock-saw.  It was not easy to get it out
the door because the wheels would not pivot. 
I locked the room and prepared to complete the task.
Since I could not get the
wheels to pivot, I decided to push the rectangular cart sideways down the
hall.  I began by placing my hands on the
top tray and gently pushing.  Nothing
happened.  I pushed harder.  Still no movement.  I pushed even harder.  Finally, the cart began to move towards the
biology room some little distance away. 
I passed one classroom.  I passed the
second classroom.  I was nearly at the
chemistry room door when Murphy’s Law teamed up with the laws of physics and
gravity.
As I neared the chemistry room
door, I failed to notice that the power cord had fallen off the rock-saw down
to the floor.  It landed in front of one
of the little wheels.  When the wheel
made contact with the power cord it stopped turning and the leg it was attached
to stopped moving forward causing all the legs to stop moving forward.  However, I was still pushing on the top of
the cart which did not stop moving forward. 
By the time I noticed, the top of the cart was leaning away from me not
very far but beyond the center of gravity and inertia was in control.  I could not hold it and pull it back to
upright.
Time slowed down as I watched
in horror as the momentum kept the rock-saw and cart top moving to the
inevitable conclusion.  In less than
three heart beats it hit the floor with a resounding BANG
which echoed down the halls, around the corner, and alerted most of the
administrative personnel, librarians, and all the classes in the science wing
that the chemistry lab had exploded. 
Instantly, it seemed, all the students in the science wing classrooms
began to empty out into the hall and I was caught like a deer in
headlights.  As bad as this was, 3
gallons of kerosene were now flowing down the hall towards the chemistry
room.  The floor having been depressed by
many years of students walking into the room, the kerosene made a 90-degree
right turn and began to flow into the chemistry room.  I could envision a real explosion if kerosene
fumes reached a Bunsen burner.
When the mess was finally
cleaned up and I helped Mr. Hildinger lift the cart upright and moved it into
the biology room, he determined that the rock-saw was okay but the diamond saw
blade had been warped by the force of the fall. 
It cost him $100 to replace but he never asked me to help out.  This was my own personal experience with an Alexander’s
Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day!
© 21 October 2014
About
the Author 

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale
and then in Redondo Beach.  Just prior to
turning 8 years old in 1956, I was sent to live with my grandparents on their
farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents
divorced.
When united with my mother and stepfather two years later
in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California,
graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966.  After three tours of duty with the Air Force,
I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until
her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11-2001
terrorist attack.
I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010.   I find writing these memories to be
therapeutic.
My story blog is, TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com.
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The Big Bang, by Gillian

Was
there only, ever, just one? The Big Bang, I read, created a new reality. So it
must follow that for something to be considered another Big Bang, or at least
analogous with it, it must change reality. Completely.
My
mind roves backwards over the history of our planet. Little blobs of floating
rock became continents which joined together and split asunder, and floated
from pole to equator. Talk about creating change! It was completely covered in
ice. It spewed out lava from deep fissures in it’s surface for millions of
years. It was bombarded by missiles from space, including the one which
created, literally, the big bang which is held responsible for the demise of
the dinosaurs. Surely no-one could deny that those events created new
realities?
It
seems to me that history is peppered with Big Bangs. Take just the short space
of human history. Invasions. Whether your little village on the Asian Steppes
was slashed and burned by Genghis Khan or your little village in the Andes was
hand-delivered deadly diseases by Cortez and his cronies, I bet it changed your
reality. Revolutions, from French to American to Communist to Industrial,
change realities. That child working twelve hours a day down the coal mine
surely had a very different reality from his parents who had slaved away their
childhoods in the fields. Every country invaded by another, from the Roman
Empire to British India to the U.S. occupation of Iraq, suffers an inevitable
change in reality. The World Wars altered huge swathes of the world, never to
be the same again. Yet so often, in fact, I suppose, always, there is some
previous contributing factor to these humanoid Big Bangs. So perhaps, they are
in fact the Big Bangs. 9/11 was a Big Bang all it’s own, but it became the
excuse for the next one, the invasion of Iraq. The justification for WW1 was
the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand. If Princip had failed, perhaps there
would never have been that terrible war (though I suspect they would have found
some other excuse) so was the assassination the real Big Bang? Or does it go
further back? Probably it’s somewhere in that miasma of territorial, ethnic,
and religious struggles which seem to have plagued the Balkans for ever.
It’s
all too complex. I think I’ll stick, in blissful egocentricity, to my own
history, which seems to me equally liberally peppered with alternate realities.
I have already written about them; moving at a young age to to remote
countryside, leaving there to go to college. Emigrating to The United States,
most certainly a new reality. Marriage. Divorce. Coming out. Meeting my
beautiful Betsy.
Now
that was a real change of my reality. I had only come out, to myself and the
world, a few years before. Although chronologically in my forties, in lesbian
years I was a wacky teenager all set to sow that brand new bushel of oats. I
had NO intention of settling down with one woman for the rest of my life. In a
nanosecond Betsy burned through that reality, and, Big Bang, I settled down to
happiness ever after. Not that I’m too sure Betsy would care for being referred
to as my Big Bang. It does have a certain sexual slant to it. In fact, on
further reflection, it sounds like soothing you’d find on the bathroom wall.
I
guess you could think of death as the final Big Bang. If it doesn’t change
reality, your own, at least, I don’t know what does. But change it to what, is
of course the big question. In my new reality, will I be reincarnated as a
squealing newborn in Borneo, or one of those Amazon butterflies which change
realities around the globe with a flutter of their gossamer wings? Or will I be
….. nothing. Gone. No reality. Or a reality so changed it is way beyond my
imagination?
What
is reality, after all? For us humanoids it is what we must do to live; we must
have oxygen, food and water, and shelter. Down at the nitty gritty, that is
reality. Being invaded by the Mongol hordes or sold in slavery does not change
that. So perhaps there is only one Big Bang after all.
I
don’t even understand my own Big Bang theory. My head, which was beginning to
throb in the second paragraph, feels about to have a Big Bang of its own.
I
wish I’d never started this.
I
think I’ll just have a nice cup of tea.
© 20 Oct 2014
About the Author 

I
was born and raised in England. After graduation from college there, I moved to
the U.S. and, having discovered Colorado, never left. I have lived in the
Denver-Boulder area since 1965, working for 30 years at IBM. I married, raised
four stepchildren, then got divorced after finally, in my forties, accepting
myself as a lesbian. I have now been with my wonderful partner Betsy for 25
years.
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The Big Bang, by EyM

“I Can’t Help it, I’ve Got to Have You.” Often the only logic involved in human urges is the bio – logic. That’s not all bad. But in our inspired reactions we drape ourselves in all the culturally over loaded accouterments of urges. We acquiesce and make it ever so much more ooy, gooey with love songs, soaring music, new hair dos, extra make up, 3 sprays of perfume and so on. Expectations rise to the sky. Up and up they grow. Expectations go far beyond what any real person could ever live up to.

“It’s All Over, I’ve Got to Have You.” Oh what a thrill, THE BIG BANG, it’s the answer to all I ever wanted. I’ve never felt this way before. This is really the real it.

Until, KABOOM! Itty Bitty little twinklings of our crush, based on absolutely nothing true, gather like chopped up Christmas tinsel swept into a weary old dust pan. There it is our dream come true, match made in heaven, all piled up and ever so dull in the dust of truth.

What do we do? Learn? Oh why do that? Instead we listen to sob story music, indulge in the: oh so blues. We take on layers and layers of misery, and oh so lonely…ness. On we go, on and on we go, weeeeee go… till once again….

Onto a friendly glance, the perfect chin, some pretty eyes, the sweetest smile, or a oh so like me, we slap securely like a strong refrigerator magnet, … the soaring music, the poignant words. Up they go again, those rising expectations. “I Can’t Help It, I’ve Got to… you know, THE BIG BANG,” and of course the terrible crush crashing KABOOM.

Of course you all know that’s not all there is. Maturity at whatever age it anchors its roots into our soul soil and grows full foliage, helps us see a way to deal with hearts more than parts.

Well really, this is all so unsettled and so unsettling. What do I know about it anyway? Now the question sits once more dumped in my lap. I do know and confess: if it weren’t for a good imagination and a very long memory. I’d have no clue about a big bang.

But for the ever flowing, constant craving, awkward, human confusion, I am grateful. I guess.

© October 2014

About the Author

A native of Colorado, she followed her Dad to the work bench
to develop a love of using tools, building things and solving problems. Her
Mother supported her talents in the arts. She sang her first solo at age 8.
Childhood memories include playing cowboy with a real horse in the great outdoors.
Professional involvements have included music, teaching, human services, and
being a helper and handy woman. Her writing reflects her sixties identity and a
noted fascination with nature, people and human causes. For Eydie, life is deep
and joyous, ever challenging and so much fun.