The Nightingales of Heraclitus: Shared Ideas of Art, Science, and Nature

Harrison, Gordon James

Prometheus Publications

Allah, Jesus, and Yahweh: The Gods That Failed deals with the moral and intellectual damage caused by religion the subject of many of today's headlines. There have been at least five major religious invasions from Asia into Europe. In particular, the Middle East seems a virtual hatchery for faith and fanaticism. It's the birthplace of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam not to mention the earlier Zoroastrianism and the much later Bahaism plus a plethora of minor cults and lunacies. The parlance in vogue for this present invasion is a clash of civilizations East versus West! But this is not entirely the case. There is a clash, but we have confused the combatants. Many in the West do not intend to fight for the preservation of Christianity; some in the East feel the same about Islam. What we will defend is freedom, democracy, and the values of the Enlightenment versus submission, dictatorship, and the buzz of the hive mind. A colossal clash of ideals is underway between the Enlightenment and the Army of the Night those who feel they have absolute certainty without evidence. From religion to science, it has been a long night's journey into light. Science is proof without certainty; religion is certainty without proof.

Allah, Jesus, and Yahweh: The Gods That Failed

History

Harrison, Gordon

World

We left paradise when I was five and moved to the city to live with my mother's sister. I later learned, there were two reasons for this move: so that my parents could find work and I could attend school. My mother was sympathetic toward my desire to return to the farm, so every July 1 she took me back to paradise for the summer. I lived the rest of the year for those two months.       The farm was run by my aunt and uncle. And they had a son who was my companion in the exploration of the fields for deer, the forests for bears, fence posts for bird's nests, and ponds for the astounding gilled salamanders--we were Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. Anything that was alive we were interested in, anything beautiful we were fascinated by. I think this is the natural state of the young until society's norms steal it from them. This enchantment with the land and its creatures is still green in my memory; this joy is still felt in my heart.         My Cousin & Me: And Other Animals is a natural history memoir of two skinny boys chasing life in the hinterland of Ontario unfettered and free, as we would never be again. Those years shaped all the ones that followed. Much of my adult life has been spent in photographing the creatures I had seen on the farm as a boy, and these pictures are liberally scattered throughout these pages. This book is an ode to the beauty of life created by evolution through natural selection.        Come, join my cousin and me as we walk out the door and turn east toward the rising sun to seek the fields and forests for a thousand wonders. The future will not be like the past. Tomorrow will not be like today. Every day is different. You must catch the apple when it falls and sweet or sour bite it hard!

My Cousin & Me: And Other Animals

Arts & Photography

Photography & Video

Bordiga Beyond the Myth

Onorato Damen

I was blessed. I was born with wolves! If not in our house, then wandering about our orchards and our barns and through our few fields. We had a home in the wilderness of Central Ontario: no electricity, no running water, no indoor toilet. We did have running wolves and ambling bears. And I loved that place. On late summer evenings and fortunate winter nights, silver forms would sing from the hills and valleys. On these occasions, somewhere in our rambling old house with two staircases, under warm blankets, a child would lie transfixed in mystery and enchantment. Here was another nation, a different civilization, who needed nothing from us, distrusted us, even hated us. And rightly so. To all the adults I knew, nature was the enemy, something to be subdued. They had little interest or knowledge of the world outside. Our evenings around the flickering lanterns were filled with tall tales about the big, bad wolf. It was all fear and fearmongering. And I believed none of it. Those early years shaped all the ones that followed. Much of my adult life has been spent photographing the creatures I saw on the farm as a boy. And I have liberally sprinkled 292 of these throughout the book. It is here I learned about the Algonquin wolves. My parents left the farm because of the physical hardships: no central heating and outhouses without toilet paper just a ragged Eaton s catalog. But we children were unmindful of this adversity for the adults never complained, never! They dealt with each problem and moved on. Years later, the old house was sold for its logs. The happy rooms where I ran and played on rainy days were now valued only as a means of income that the buyer never paid. Nothing remains. No colossal wreck. Just weeds and wire bush. The barns were sold as well, and where horses and cows once held sway, fields of wild raspberry canes now hold court. And when the berries ripen, bears roam where the horses stalls once stood. No one would know humans had ever lived here. No one knows how green was our valley. As well as all the buildings and barns that have disappeared, many of the attitudes and fears of those times are gone as well. In August, a strange pilgrimage occurs in Algonquin Park. In the late evening, hundreds of cars line the Park s only highway. The people get out of their vehicles and huddle close to a few Park rangers who howl into the darkening wilderness. On rare occasions, wolves answer. Their electrifying songs fill the fresh night air only to let us know who owns this place and you best not forget it. Wolves do not perform on demand, nor do they negotiate, and you do not get your money back. Yet, when they do sing your spine tingles to the sound of their transfixing arias, and for an instant, you can touch that ancient time when we roamed the forest with them. The Nation of the Wolf is not at war with man. Whether we can learn to live near these incredible creatures is an open question. If the past is prologue for the future, the answer is grim. This book is the story of a wolf who was never at a loss during his journey home across Algonquin Park. I call him Big Red. He travels during the day to avoid the wolves on whose land he is trespassing. His future will not be like his past. Tomorrow will not be like today. Every day is different. Big Red knows he must catch the apple when it falls and, sweet or sour, bite it hard! When he sleeps, he dreams of all things wolfen: warrahs, dingoes, coyotes, gray wolves, painted wolves, and so on. His mother gave birth to him in an ancient den at the base of the plateau on which my home stands. In decades past, one of his ancestors sang for me on winter evenings as I snuggled under warm blankets. This book was born on those nights. This enchantment with the land and the wolves is still fresh in my memory. This happiness is still felt in my heart.

Wolves: Ryders in the Whirlwind

Science & Math

Gordon Harrison

Biological Sciences

Dreamer at the End of the Universe: One Life in Two Worlds (The Land)

Parenting & Relationships

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