3 in 1 Review Oil

Theological exploration is fatally wounded by the political nature of all human institutions, particularly organized religion. I was immediately struck by the graceful lines and sturdy fabric of the Advanced Elements Kayak. A pregnant grey cloud was not auspicious, nor was two piece scaffolding set. For an agnostic such as myself, one of the first realizations of any spirtual quest is that any approach based entirely on inward, individualistic reflection is not only dissatisfying, but drifts away from the necessity of exploring social interaction, from which all ethics arises. Long years of occassional disasters with cheap balloon boats, making unintentional leeway and recreationally endangering the life of its passengers, tends to dissuade any rational sailor from considering an inflatable. Hamlet is among the most difficult works, an ambitious play even if high speed Coast Guard helicopters do not roar over a Space-Be-Needled Denmark. Yet in practical terms, the compulsion to explore spirituality from disputable a priori terms seems doomed to persinicky falsehood and moral irrelevance. Can something so extremely orange work?

I researched, and to my surprise, this inflatable kayak with its aluminum frame bow and stern, low freeboard and robust material, got fairly enthusiastic reviews. So I began to conceive of an empirical approach to spiritual questions, those that lay outside the realm of science, but well within art, music, and literature, and were resonant, experienced commonly and specifically describable, but unnecessarily attributed to a religious practice, out of what seems to be an essentially political desire to control or claim spiritual experience. Polonius got the first laughs, plunging gamely into his garrolous distraction. I checked with more people and found the evaluation consistent: it was safe, durable, portable, and performed very nearly like a hard-shell boat at about a 1/3 the price. Hamlet himself had a real finger splint, presumably from a previous swordfight. So the question became: what if we were to leave the word "God" and "religion" out, dispense with fluffy new age meringue, and look for a class of spiritually relevant concepts embodied in actual human practice and experience?

Packed to the size of a large suitcase, I took the tandem version across the street to the Fremont Cut and used a 99 cent Goodwill pump to begin a slightly complex inflation procedure. Although the inconsistency of accent that plagues nearly every production of the Bard diverted attention from the eternal language, Ophelia came convincingly, almost dangerously unglued. The concept was hardly new. There is a principle that leads to clarity: do not try to justify or rationalize: Examine. What are characteristics attributed to God that actually exist in what we might call confirmable reality, even in small degrees? As it began to form up, the minor problem with one valve resolved easily, and in ten minutes, I was lugging the 45 lb kayak into the water. All-knowing and all powerful becomes what we can describe, and verify, about knowing and about power, in its extant rather than speculative forms. The rain poured and no one left, as the Claudius cackled and Hamlet, chinese neck tatoo and all, sarcastically cursed our quintessence. I got in, felt the boat's intrinsic stability and paddled away without the slightest anxiety.

Knowledge and power is limited within a moment, but not perhaps over eternity, and as scientists describe information - and its exchange - as a fundamental property of the universe, the world we know, the one we measure and test, already functions much as our would our common conceptions of God. Polonious lay dead in the rain, and, strangely, as the amplification failed, the actors stepped up their performance, for in bad weather there was no other purpose. I was amazed as the large wake slid easily under the hull, bending it smoothly rather than slamming it.

They don't shoot over Jesus, they shoot over the political, economic and social control of Jesus' message, which so often only serves that control. The crows added perfectly to the atmosphere of doom, and although it was hardly the excellent version of Richard III I'd seen two weeks before, the whole audience, getting drenched with the actors, now soaked and dried along with them. With exquisite timing, the Fremont bridge strangely opened for my passage underneath, an excess of access.

Connect the name of "god" to the desire for power, and people die, and their essential joy is crushed, cultural sadism indulged, and misery flowers endlessly. Polonius died well, Rosencrantz and Guilderstern bounced about like ferrets. So far the speed of the kayak was close to a hard shell, its tracking nearly equal, and its stability superior. Yet what all we claim to want to from religion is richly present in real life- it is the religions that insist that we turn our mind away from this life that spread untold suffering, that punish, that cut, that hide their agenda of political control and desire for privilege. Hamlet was no amateur, although I would have read it almost the opposite of his James Dean on smack characterization.

They swept the stage clean of water for the bloodbath of the last act. I passed two of the WWII "ducks," sea-going trucks packed with tourists who waved gamely. What good is tomorrow's mysterious enlightenment? It deflated easily, and passed an essential test when at least two guys walked up and asked where I got it. They transcended the Goodwill wardrobe with committed energy, and it was good to see real people apparently feeling things. An impressive feat, being able to stuff a sea-worthy craft in the trunk of a Civic.

Like in drawing, you learn to see when you forget the name of the thing you see, and when you forget the name of God and the endless, blood-soaked lists of religious orthodoxy, elements of verifiable phenomena with spiritual characteristics appear; the biggest in my mind (and you've no doubt heard this from me): is there a real difference of kind between the additive sum of all human awareness, continued through time, and what we ordinarily conceive of as the mind of God? The play concluded to warm applause. After two hours, my arms were exhausted; I admit to some circular chaffing.