Good

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If goodness is subjective, then goodness is dependent on the person.
There could be no goodness without people.
Saving humanity from destruction is saving goodness from destruction.

There CAN be objective truth without objective goodness, though.
But that doesn’t make objective truth objectively good.
The truth is often unpleasant, and one’s concept of goodness may hinge on what is pleasant.

However, learning the truth is the best strategy for saving humanity from destruction.
Any argument to the contrary would have to be both LEARNED and TRUE in order to be valid.

If your concept of good does not include maintaining the conditions for maintaining goodness, then your goodness is not sustainable and should rightfully die off.

I believe this is the closest one can rationally come to objective good:
To love the world. To give and receive the truth. To save the world. To protect the people.

Pam Peterson. 1943-2011

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Phil Jimenez, most talented artists ever assigned to Wonder Woman/friend of mine, just lost his mother.

Even before she became ill, I gathered from interviews that VERY special kind of supporting mother. The sincere admiration he had for her was something to behold, and I’m beginning to share it myself upon reading about her courage and resilience.

Right now, I only WISH for a relationship as beautiful as the one they shared, and I can only imagine the pain that goes with losing something like that.

But maybe we should look at this more like a “completion” than a loss…

Please read this blog/offer support.

RIP, and good night…

She Used To Be Me

“Anyone who ever gave you confidence, you owe them a lot.” — Truman Capote

My mom, Pam Peterson, died yesterday morning at 8:16 AM.  She was 68 years old.

It was, ultimately, a quiet and peaceful death. It didn’t start that way — there was some real panic in her eyes that morning around 5:00 AM, when she just couldn’t catch her breath, and the meditation exercises we’d practiced several times (I’d look in her eyes and smile, hold her face and hands, put her feet on my thighs if I was kneeling at her bed, and lead her in rhythmic breathing until she calmed enough to gain her breath) weren’t working.  She was sweaty from cancer fevers and couldn’t get comfortable; she’d sit up and lay down, sit up and lay down, and finally got up a couple of times to go to the bathroom (I’m thankful, and I…

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