Parable of the Week


The Grey Squirrels, The Colored Squirrels
By a bubbling creek meandered a lush backyard garden.
In this garden dwelled not only birds, garden snakes, toads and worms, but also grey squirrels.
The biggest and most well-fed of the animals, they were lords of the yard -- where all but the angriest of crows fled from them, once they charged to hoard nuts and seeds. Their bright white bellies gleamed in the afternoon sun when they sat up to regard their domain.
But when they crouched back down, their grey tops were somewhat dreary to look upon.
Then one day a motley crew of new squirrels came to the garden. They scampered onto a branch and stood tall for all to see: A small red squirrel; a pure black squirrel; a fawn-colored squirrel; and a pure white squirrel.
Each was much smaller than the fat grey squirrels, and so were no match for them in hoarding nuts and seeds.
But they were fast, and so colorful!
When they scampered around the trees and grass, playing tag with the grey squirrels, in the garden a rainbow danced.
And the days were no longer as dreary to look upon.
Thus, sameness dulls the spirit's palate, while diversity and its combinations are the spice of life. -- via Star Trek


May 3, 2008, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 1, "Reality's Acceptance"), Copyright © 2008 by Frank H. Burton, Ph.D., Founder and Executive Director, The Circle of Reason, Inc. All rights reserved. Dedicated to Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day.

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The Circle of Reason is a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization devoted to fellowship and service to society -- but in a way different than you've seen before:

A fellowship who believe communal commitment to reason will transform the world.

No culture in history has used communal commitment to reason as a way to improve the world as well as our individual lives. We believe this approach to solving irrationality by the human race can lead to a better outcome than what has come before.

Our goal is to institute local and virtual congregations, or circles, of those who believe in the power of reason to gradually but inexorably identify and expunge irrationality from our worldly lives and from local society, campaign and governmental policies, and global society.

A fellowship who exclude none.

We welcome all who seek clarity of mind, regardless of their present beliefs or creeds. Faith can even harmonize with reason, when we accept the gift of the mind to better understand, live in, and shepherd this world. Consequently, the Circle is unique in inviting everyone, including both the religious and the non-religious, into an additional shared haven -- a truly ecumenical fellowship to make the world we've all inherited a saner place.

Beliefs

The Affirmation of The Circle of Reason
We believe in the power of reasoning and logical minds, when present in sufficient numbers, to reduce and someday eliminate all ills on Earth caused by human irrationality -- to prevent war, government corruption, environmental destruction, institutionalized poverty and discrimination. Our purpose is to so change the world within the next 50 generations -- by encouraging people to commit to local congregations of faith in the ability of logical and reasonable thought to save our world and bring our next major step in moral evolution. We welcome all who seek clarity of mind, regardless of present beliefs or creed, to The Circle of Reason.
January 1, 2000 C.E.

The 3 Tenets of Reason
Reality's Acceptance
Assumption's Denial
Emotion's Mastery

The 3 Guides of Action
What is, is -- Reality denied causes wrong action; Reality accepted causes right action.
What is not, is not -- Incorrect assumptions, non-reality accepted as reality, cause wrong action; Questioned assumptions cause right action.
What is or is not, is paramount -- Emotion unmastered by reason causes wrong action; Emotion's mastery by reason causes right action.

The 3 Paths to Right Action
Accept what is, reject what is not, leave open what may be.
Root out incorrect assumptions and their signpost -- contradictions.
Let reason, not emotion, be the final arbiter of your actions.

The 3 Paths to Wrong Action
Reject what is, accept what is not, reject or accept what may be.
Act based on unconsidered assumptions, and ignore their contradictions.
Let emotion rule your actions.

The Paragons of Reason and Unreason
The Paragon of Reason -- Objective, Open-minded, and Calm.
The Paragon of Unreason -- Subjective, Close-minded, and Emotional.

The Meditation of Reason
In Reality's denial was I blind -- by Reality's Acceptance do I see.
In Assumption's acceptance was I bowed -- by Assumption's Denial do I stand.
In Emotion's surrender did I stampede -- by Emotion's Mastery do I stride.
By these three do I drink from the depths, tread beyond the horizon, and reach for the zenith of the World.

The Circle Thanksgiving -- An Ecumenical Thanksgiving Prayer
Let us bow our heads in prayer or contemplation.
We give thanks for the gift of the Mind, through which our purpose shall be envisioned.
We give thanks for the gift of the Will, through which our purpose shall be manifest.
We give thanks for the gift of the Heart, through which our purpose shall be ennobled.
And we give thanks for the gift of the Universe, through which our purpose shall be magnified.
So say we all.

Parables

Our archive of past weekly excerpts from the forthcoming book, The Parables of Reason © 2007, by Frank H. Burton, Executive Director, The Circle of Reason, Inc. All rights reserved. Excerpts from this web archive may be reproduced electronically with appropriate author attribution and a hypertext link to this website, may not be reproduced in print without prior written consent of the author, and may not be reproduced in any form for profit. Future royalties from the author's book sales shall after taxes be donated in their entirety to the non-profit The Circle of Reason, Inc., while the author remains Executive Director or affiliated in any official capacity.

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The Begrudged, The Embraced
Death stood at the foot of their hospital beds -- a badly dressed physician prescribing only morphine.
In no great rush, He observed the two men.
Reminiscing, as the old and ill are wont to do, the first man said, "My life was filled with wasted moments. I avoided learning, because lessons seemed too much bother. I avoided travel, because I worried about drinking the water. And I avoided dating, because I worried how I'd break it off!"
The second man looked over at the first, and recalled, "I took those lessons -- and learned enough to see how foolish I am. I traveled to Paris -- and got sick. I loved a woman, and never left her -- but she left me."
The first man stared at the blank wall of the ward, and began to cry.
"Now it's too late for me to do anything but die!"
Death stirred.
But then the second man gently replied, "Well, it's not really that late. Do you like chess?"
The first man wiped his eyes and turned to measure the face of his temporary savior.
And Death looked about for a seat.
Thus, embrace life, do not begrudge it.


April 26, 2008, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 3, "Emotion's Mastery"), Copyright © 2008 by Frank H. Burton.
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The Flat World, The Round World
A voice in a faceless crowd proclaimed, "The World is flat!"
The people all chattered, "Of course he's right! We can see the edge of the World -- it's right over there!" And they pointed to the far horizon of the sea, where the red sun flashed green ere vanishing beneath the waters.
But a second man cried, "Wait! The edge looks so close! How can we sail for days upon days into the West, and lose sight of the mountains of our home, if the World is flat? Might not the World actually be round?"
And the people catcalled and hurled rotten fruits and cabbages at him.
"It's flat! Just look at the horizon!" they jeered.
Yet the second man believed that perhaps the World was round, but also very large -- and so just seemed flat, as his bald pate might seem to a tiny louse.
So he fashioned a telescope, using a long hearing-aid tube and two pieces of polished glass.
Then every morning he sat on the dock and stared at the horizon with his scope, pausing only to wipe its lenses free of salt-spray, and to gaze fiercely at passersby who cajoled him.
But then one afternoon, he startled and darted to his feet, one hand still holding the telescope to a gawking eye.
Through its lenses he could see a crow's nest - only a crow's nest -- rising slowly above the waters, its red and white flag flapping on the tall mast.
"Look!" he pointed to the horizon and cried to a small crowd of passersby, "Look! The mast of a galleon rises from the sea, but with no galleon yet seen beneath it! The World is not flat -- it is round! Round!"
A large rotten cabbage smashed into his beaming face, and his telescope dropped into the sea.
Thus, the whole world can still be wrong.


April 19, 2008, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 2, "Assumption's Denial"), Copyright © 2008 by Frank H. Burton.
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The Infallible, The Fallible
Proclaimed throughout the land was a prophet among men.
On the day of his investiture, he strode in his dark, flowing robes through a jubilant army of followers, to a granite knoll.
Turning to look down upon the crowd, he raised high a wooden staff in his right fist.
"I am the voice of God on earth!" he cried. "My edicts are to be obeyed, on pain of imprisonment!"
The people believed, and wailed -- some in ecstasy, others in fear. Ere the blooming tulips in the prophet's garden began to curl, did his edicts lead to the enslavement of women in the land, and the imprisonment and execution of all who did not believe in the prophet's god.
Once too proclaimed throughout another land, was a leader among men.
On the day of his inauguration, he strode in his dark, tailored suit through a jubilant throng of voters, to a granite podium.
Turning to look down upon the crowd, he raised his clenched right fist.
"I am now your leader!" he cried. "My edicts are to be obeyed, on pain of imprisonment!"
The people disbelieved, and wailed -- in anger. Ere the cut tulips in the leader's inaugural vase began to wilt, did his edicts lead to his own banishment.
Thus, your mind is the property of neither man nor god.


April 12, 2008, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 1, "Reality's Acceptance"), Copyright © 2008 by Frank H. Burton. Dedicated to the new democracies of Bhutan and Nepal, and the struggle for freedom in Tibet.
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The Ember, The Fire
Rain hissed along the thatch roof of a hut on the moor.
Inside the hut, an old man and his grandchild sat staring into the fireplace, where burned a single log.
"Tend to the fire, grandson," said the old man, as he went outside to feed their mule.
But the grandson lay back, arms behind his head, and daydreamed. Soon he dozed off.
When the old man returned to the fire, nothing remained of it except a small pile of black ash with a single, glowing-red ember.
"I told you to tend the fire, child!" the old man chided the boy. Then he gathered fine, dried root and straw, dipped them into the ember, and gently blew on it.
And, once more, flames sprang into life, reflected as a dancing glow in the old man's eyeglasses.
As he hefted a new log to the fire, he turned again to his chastised grandson. "Remember, young one, any fire shall die when nothing burns within."
"Including," he added, poking his lazy grandchild's chest, "the fire in there!"
Thus, endeavor is the flame that must consume you.


April 5, 2008, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 3, "Emotion's Mastery"), Copyright © 2008 by Frank H. Burton.
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The Chatterer, The Converser
Live with a chatterbox to learn how not to listen, the man thought.
His wife chattered all day long. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the monologue, all he heard was, "Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah."
But then, one day, he heard, "Blah, blah, blah, blah...Darling, are you unhappy?"
His ears perked up. "What did you say?"
"I said," his wife repeated, "are you unhappy?"
"Well, no, but..."
"But what?" she asked.
"Well, we rarely talk," he confessed.
"What do you mean? We talk all the time!" she blurted, then paused. "Don't we?"
"Well, dear, no -- we don't. You talk, I listen -- or try to, at least. But not very well..."
"I am a bit of a chatterbox, aren't I?" she replied with rue.
Her husband rose from his newspaper, put his arms around her and hugged her gently.
"Not now, you aren't. Right now we are talking." He kissed her on the cheek, and then said, "Let's discuss the news, shall we?"
"Let's!" she exclaimed.
And together they sat down, at first tentatively, and then later without embarrassment, to a real discussion.
Thus, don't just broadcast your thoughts -- share them.


March 29, 2008, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 2, "Assumption's Denial"), Copyright © 2008 by Frank H. Burton.
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The Asleep, The Awake
Philosophy was the siren who lured two students to distant shores.
When they met upon their return, they clasped arms -- those of the first now as wan and frail as balsa, and of the second as thick as oak.
"I hiked through monsoon-swept plains and high mountains," the first student said, "and sat in the temples of many different beliefs, and so attained complete wisdom."
He then smiled and bowed his head.
"This life is but part of a dream, and living or dying matters not."
Hearing his frail compatriot say this, the second student frowned.
"I too have seen much," he replied. "I've trodden far island continents, and sat in outback campfires, listening to lyrics that were sung before recorded history began, and so attained new knowledge."
But then the second student gently tightened his grip on his frail friend's luminously thin arms, as if to hold him to the earth.
"My friend, what happens to us in life, and in dreams, all matters."
Yet the first student, now uncaring of his own life, refused to eat, grew skeletal and wasted away to death.
At his funeral, his compatriot picked up a handful of black dirt and dropped it on the bones of his friend.
Then he continued on, eating, living and dreaming -- and in listening to his dreams, found new paths to tread.
Thus, life does not awaken to a dream -- dreaming awakens life.


March 22, 2008, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 1, "Reality's Acceptance"), Copyright © 2008 by Frank H. Burton.
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The Acorn, The Oak
An acorn lay rotting.
Carried far away from its mother-tree by an overly busy squirrel, it was abandoned in the black earth.
For the squirrel, being not so smart, forgot where he'd buried it -- and so the acorn was consigned to molder in its grave for all time, lost to memory or kindly regard.
Yet the following year, from the flesh of the acorn grew the smallest of shoots.
It fought for the light of the sun, pushed through dead leaves and blades of grass, and swelled into the tiniest of plants.
Over the years, the plant fought to live, persisting without cease or rest, and grew.
And grew.
So, in the fullness of time, arose the mightiest Oak that ever existed -- from a forgotten and discarded shred of another's callous feast.
Thus, to transform into what will be, what is must pass away.


March 15, 2008, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 3, "Emotion's Mastery"), Copyright © 2008 by Frank H. Burton.
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The Passenger, The Driver
The car wound its sinuous way along the backcountry.
Its driver, a wide grin on her face, craned her neck as she passed grazing Hereford cows and cantering white and fawn-colored horses.
She smelled violet-carpeted hillsides, topped with bales of hay curled up like cinnamon buns, through her half-lowered, dirt-streaked window as she drove beneath tall oak boughs.
She gazed off to the horizon -- at careening, distant blue vistas of mountainsides and river valleys -- as the car jounced on the rutted, golden-brown clay road.
She was so glad.
Then her passenger, snoring until the last bend in the road, suddenly awoke, glanced around under his disheveled bangs, then, trying to steady himself as the sky rolled up and down and side to side, turned to her and grumpily remarked, "Wha...what happened to the highway?"
His voice warbled like he was sitting on a two-bit vibrating bed in a cheap motel.
"And where are we going?!"
Brown hair bouncing around her face, she laughed as she answered.
"We're already there!"
Thus, drive or be the passenger in your life's journey.


March 8, 2008, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 2, "Assumption's Denial"), Copyright © 2008 by Frank H. Burton.
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The Act, The Consequence
In a shantytown held fast like a barnacle on the hull of a city sailing for a far horizon, two boys squatted on the stoop of a tin shack.
Dealers approached them offering hashish.
The first boy rose from the stoop, bought a bag of weed, placed it in his jacket pocket, and trotted home to smoke it.
His dealer counted his money, then ordered more hashish from his supplier -- who, in the crossfire of a gunfight with competing suppliers, shot a young student.
A young student who one day would have designed an economical solar water-purifier, saving millions from dysentery.
The second boy remained sitting on the stoop, and refused to buy hashish.
The second dealer, growing angry, slapped the boy and chased him through the teeming alleys -- but fell short on his sales that day, and ordered nothing from his supplier.
That supplier was ignored during a later turf battle -- and a girl on the street was saved from being shot.
A girl whose granddaughter would one day lead a continent to outlaw land mines.
Thus, the world can rise or fall with the lifting of one finger.


March 1, 2008, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 1, "Reality's Acceptance"), Copyright © 2008 by Frank H. Burton.
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The Moon, The Sun
Under the parental gaze of the Sun and the Moon, the tribe lived bright days and starry nights.
In the tribe lived a wise Elder.
After a young tribeswoman had refused a suitor's overture to wed, and been shunned by the tribesmen for her refusal, she ran crying to the Elder -- who sat, walking stick by her side in the dirt, enjoying the shade of a large tree not quite as old as herself.
The young woman kneeled before the Elder, plucked at the hem of her shift, and confessed.
"Elder, I don't want to marry! If I marry, I must raise babies! But I want to start a business, and cultivate the fields and markets for my livelihood -- not be a husband's wife for it!"
The Elder grimaced, picked up her walking stick and slowly scratched sigils in the dirt.
Then, nodding to herself, she pointed her stick up into the skies, her long white hair blowing across her face in the breeze.
"Up there, what do you see?"
The young woman looked up and, squinting, said, "I see the Sun."
"And later, at dusk?"
"We will see the full Moon," the young woman replied.
"And why will it be full?" the Elder asked, with a wrinkled smile.
"Well," replied the young woman, "because it is facing the Sun and reflecting its light! But...but what does this have to do with my marriage?!"
The Elder laughed, then waved her stick between the far horizons.
"The Sun or the Moon! In their arms we dwell! Each brings us joy, each has value -- the Sun gives us life, and the Moon reminds us of the Sun's constancy."
"But it is your choice, not mine! It is up to you whether you will be the Sun or the Moon!"
Thus, radiate, or magnify the radiance of others -- but know the role you've chosen.


February 23, 2008, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 1, "Reality's Acceptance"), Copyright © 2008 by Frank H. Burton.
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The Rabbit, The Mole
Venturing into the nest of a Rabbit was a tiny shrew.
The shrew raised its pointy nose -- and the two shiny black dots on its face that pass for eyes among shrews -- and shouted upward at the Rabbit and her nursing kits.
"My, your grass nest is so well woven, and lined so snugly with fur, I could live here myself! If I didn't have an urge to dig tunnels, that is!"
The mother Rabbit, complimented and somewhat amused, wiggled her nose at the talkative shrew, and returned her placid gaze to her young ones.
Strolling out of the Rabbit's nest, the shrew then chanced upon a large black hole in the grass -- the mouth of a long tunnel that hunched its back like a whale sounding the Sargasso Sea. The shrew took one look at the deep hole, and dove beneath the sea of grass.
Scampering madly downward through the dimly lit tunnel, he tripped over blades of half-chewed grass, chips of discarded twigs, and tufts of matted grey fuzz and empty bug armor. His nose even drew him to -- and skirting by -- small piles of that which we all make, but shouldn't leave sitting around.
"Stinky, stinky..." the shrew mumbled as his nose hairs blasted outward from nostrils big enough to engulf his tiny eyes.
And onward he dove.
Then, in the deepest, darkest bend of the tunnel, the shrew ran head on into the plush rear of the tunnel's maker -- a big grey Mole.
The shrew hopped over the Mole's bowed head, and once again lifted up its pointy shrew nose, which nearly met the Mole's drooping, leafy nose.
Their two pairs of eye-specks pretended to scrutinize each other, while the shrew sniffed madly, and the Mole sniffed sadly.
And then the shrew shouted to the Mole.
"My, your tunnel is a real mess! Why, it even stinks! Can you concentrate on digging, and on finding a big, fat huggly female mole, when old, chewed-up bug legs poke you in your soft pink belly, my friend?"
The shrew grabbed a piece of fuzz and tucked it under a foreleg.
"Let's clean this place up, and I'll be happy to live here with you!"
And up the tunnel scampered the shrew, followed by the somewhat browbeaten but strangely relieved Mole, to clean up their home.
Thus, without order comes odor.


February 16, 2008, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 3, "Emotion's Mastery"), Copyright © 2008 by Frank H. Burton.
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The Forceful, The Persuasive
Rulers of men oft rise at night.
Come into power upon the hastened death of his predecessor, he quickly cast off all whose ability threatened his supremacy. He declared himself king, and when he barked his imperial orders, those who disobeyed or hesitated were exiled or executed.
One day he was to receive in his royal court the Leader of a powerful neighboring country.
"This is a Leader?" the king asked, laughing, as his courtiers briefed him about the man he would soon meet. "He did not usurp power, but asked the people for it? He can be removed from power simply by a majority vote?"
He smirked. "And he has never held an Army commission, nor ever fired a gun! Hah!"
It shall be a simple matter to dominate this man in our trade negotiations, the king thought to himself.
As the Leader of the other country entered the throne room, the king ordered him, "Kneel!"
As the Leader kneeled, the king saw his face -- a face of complete calm and equanimity.
The king became angered. "Why aren't you afraid of me, little man! I could have you executed!"
The Leader replied, "So you could, but my people wish you to have this."
He passed a scroll to the king, who handed it on to his general and demanded it be read before the royal court.
Thus did the general read aloud the Leader's letter to the king -- who heard its words with growing incredulity and horror: "O King, we, the people of your neighboring country, have massed a great army and navy in support of our Leader, whom we love. Our economy is strong, and our armed forces are unified and at the ready in his support. We wish you well, but know that our Leader is to return unharmed, or your small military takeover will see this day its last day."
The Leader then said to the suddenly perspiring king, "It is my gift of persuasion that is my power. Using it I've led my people into prosperity. My might is their gratitude." Then the Leader gestured casually around him.
"Yet, look here, at the faces of all the men around you, O King. If gratitude resided there, indeed I would be afraid. But all I see is fear and hatred of you. In my country, these men would lay down their lives for their leader -- here, they will not."
The king, in his fear and rage, exploded.
"Kill him, and may war come!"
The king's general steeled himself, strode forward, unsheathed his sword, and, sinews steady, raised it high -- and brought it down not upon the Leader's neck, but upon his own king's.
After the thump of the head, the king's bejeweled body collapsed to the ground with the sound of dry leaves and tinkling chimes.
"Our King, the fool!" muttered the general, as he sheathed his bloody sword.
He turned to face the Leader. "If your people will agree to trade with us as peaceful neighbors, I will instate free elections for our people, too."
Thus, the power of muscle is weaker than the power of reason.


February 9, 2008, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 2, "Assumption's Denial"), Copyright © 2008 by Frank H. Burton. Dedicated to U.S. Super Tuesday's primaries and caucuses.
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The Dreaming Woman, The Seeing Woman
Born on the same day in the same village, two women grew up as friends.
One was born into poverty, and saw early that work -- either hers or her poor father's -- supplied the money to buy food and goods.
The second woman was born into wealth, and never accepted that someone's work was needed for her to eat or have fine things at her whim.
Then war cast both women anew into poverty.
The first woman portaged vegetables to market to earn enough to feed herself, and planned to save a little each day to start a small weaving business.
But the second woman refused to believe her ill fortune. Crawling into a cardboard box in the burned out basement of her ruined mansion, she slowly succumbed to the elements.
As she lay dying, dreaming of the life she'd lost, her moans were heard by her friend -- who lay down her basket of vegetables and dug through the rubbish to her side, raising her up.
"Why do you not see the way things are now?" she scolded. "Get up and weave baskets with me, and live. Or else dream your life away."
She placed her hands on her destitute friend's face, turned it toward the unrelenting day, and opened her eyelids.
"Decide! For you have no time left to dream of what is no more."
Tears rose in the dark well of the eyes.
The destitute woman saw the truth in her friend's words, and knew her refusal to see "what is" would change the world not in the slightest, but would indeed change her into a dead woman.
She stood up from the rubbish of her past, and together they wove baskets in the hope of a better life.
Thus, it is better to see what is and dream of what may be, than to shut your eyes to what is and dream of what cannot be.


February 2, 2008, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 1, "Reality's Acceptance"), Copyright © 2008 by Frank H. Burton. Dedicated to those who've fallen in the arena, yet who rise again.
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The Dragon's Breath, The West Wind
Nigh on their 13th year, two boys became explorers.
With but small knapsacks thrown over their shoulders, the boys ran out of town and far into the mountain foothills -- chasing after a caravan of gypsies slowly rolling toward the Western Lands.
Seeing the boys run after them, the King of the Gypsies raised his gnarled hand from the forward wagon. The music and the caravan stilled.
"Please, Gypsy King, may we explore the world with you?" asked one of the boys, a tall, lithe lad, while the other, runty boy huffed for breath.
The King looked back at the distant plains town, and at the protruding ribs of the boys, and knew neither had family that would care enough to retrieve them. Then he stared at the boys with a piercing green eye, and said, "But do you, my children, have the guts to be true explorers?"
The boys looked at each other in confusion, then the runty, breathless one gasped, "Test us, King! I am not scared!"
"But you should be, boy. You should be!" said the King, glowering down at the ragged twosome while fingering his gold earring.
The Gypsy King then lifted his great oaken staff, and pointed toward a high cleft in the mountains ahead.
"There lies the only pass to the West!"
He looked down at them, and then yelled above the blowing wind, "But in the pass lies a Dragon, whose breath burns! I have spells to keep the Dragon in slumber, but they shall not avail you today!"
"All, all who seek to join my kingdom must pass by the Dragon on cat's feet, and awaken him not. If I find you whole, and not a little pile of ash, on the other side of the pass, you are a true adventurer -- and will be welcome to join my clan and sit by my fire, as my son, forever under the stars."
The King's tattooed and white-bearded face then loomed baleful. "But, if you retreat to this side of the pass, it is homeward and hearth-bound for you, such as your home may be!"
"Now go! The Dragon begins to awake!" The Gypsy King gestured with his staff toward the mountain pass, his hair blowing wildly in rising gusts of warm wind.
The two boys looked up at the pass, saw rippling waves of heat billow from its jagged maw, and their tongues swelled and their knees knocked.
But the runty boy then shook himself like a wet dog, and ran ahead, calling, "Quickly, let's go now!"
Catching up to the smaller boy at the foot of the pass, the taller boy pulled him back, yelling past the howling, hot breath streaming from its great, rocky gap. "Wait! You can feel the hot breath of the Dragon, and you can hear it rushing out of his jaws!"
He stared into the slitted eyes of the runty boy. "That Gypsy King is sending us to our death! Maybe he has no spell to quiet the Dragon -- maybe we're his sacrifice to it! I wanted adventure, but not this!"
The runty boy stared up into the sweaty pallor of his playmate's face, and in that moment knew they would be parted forever. "What did you expect adventure was? Maybe it is death to run by the Dragon -- but I wanted adventure, not home!"
"And now I've got it!" And the runty little boy turned and dashed into the blowing chasm, and disappeared.
Crying for his friend, and fearful of being caught and murdered by the Gypsy King, the taller boy skirted the oncoming caravan, catching one glimpse of the King's frowning face as he ran back down the foothills for his home and hearth -- to live a somewhat boring, but fear-free, life as a farmer.
The caravan of the Gypsy King rolled on, into the blowing mountain pass, and disappeared from the Eastern Lands.
As the caravan's lead wagon, where sat the Gypsy King, rounded the last bend of the pass, the hot wind of the Western Desert blew ferociously past him. And there, in the middle of the path, stood the little runty boy, staring down at the great desert, arms raised to the warm blast of air, his ragged clothes whipping madly about him.
The child turned to see his new father, the King, and yelled in joy.
Thus, explore your emotion -- for it also is your teacher.


January 26, 2008, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 3, "Emotion's Mastery"), Copyright © 2008 by Frank H. Burton. Dedicated to the explorers among us.
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The Has-been, The Will-be
Youth frolics.
And these twin sisters were very youthful. What regard needed they for the world?
But, as young persons are wont to do, once they grew in size and experience so too did they grow in spirit and ambition.
Soon thereafter they strode into the world to refashion it in the image of what they thought it should be -- the first as a lawyer and judge, the second as a businesswoman.
Yet, as the years of their lives piled up like falling leaves, the sisters, once identical, became very different.
Walking in the city park, the judge, now advanced in years and just-retired from the bench, muttered to her sister, "I dreamed of one day being a political leader, and passing laws to help our city. But I never risked it, and it'll never happen now. I'm just an old has-been!"
She sagged with this confession, her face weighted down by each one of many years of regret.
Her twin sister's eyes glowed within the ashen kindling of her wrinkled brows.
"Sis, I just retired, too! The bums on my company's Board of Directors tossed me out on my wrinkled old butt!"
But she then spryly cackled, her face turning into the wind, white hair blowing from her lined face, and, raising her arms, yelled at the day.
"But I'm starting a new company! And this one will be a non-profit charity!"
She then poked her amazed sister in the ribs.
"And you, you old hag, isn't it time you put your name on the voters' ballot?"
Thus, you aren't a "has-been" until you surrender your final dream.


January 19, 2008, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 2, "Assumption's Denial"), Copyright © 2008 by Frank H. Burton.
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The Remora, The Ray
Fathomless was the ocean wherein lived a Remora and a Ray.
The Remora was a thin little fish, and, fearing to sound the depths of the ocean, it used a sucker on its forehead to hitch a ride -- upon the ghostly belly of a fearsome, great white shark, to whom it was way too small to bother eating.
Wherever the shark roamed, there too dangled the Remora.
Whatever the shark ate, underneath it was the Remora -- to scoop up its leavings, pick off its skin parasites, or swallow the glistening krill that billowed up from undersea rivers with each great thrust of the shark's tailfin.
So did the Remora live a long and somewhat comfortable life, stuck to the belly of another.
But sometimes, the Remora confessed to itself, it despaired of the view above.
In those same salty seas swam the Ray -- a thin fish from one view, but quite wide from another.
It swam free and sounded the blackest depths of the ocean, gliding along the silty bottom as if a wing in air -- using its strength, and its stinger, to postpone that sudden fate which befalls us all.
So did the Ray, in its equally long life, travel only where it pleased and eat only what it pleased.
And, most satisfying of all, the view above was vast and endless.
Thus, you are responsible for your own happiness.


January 12, 2008, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 1, "Reality's Acceptance"), Copyright © 2008 by Frank H. Burton.
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The Bettor, The Player
Jovial little towns spackle the Deep South, but one was more spackled than most - for there was held a spitting contest.
Men and women swilled up black coffee or, if they could stand the stink, tobacco spit, placed two fingers to their mouths as if they held an invisible cigarette, and jetted streams of black fluid into the air -- to splat, they prayed, a far piece down a long sheet of virgin white newspaper roll.
Two old men sat nearby in green-and-white checkered lawn chairs during the team play, betting on which team would pull off a win.
"Yer team ain't got no chance," one yelled to the other, "'cuz they all little boys an' girls!"
"Yeahup," agreed the second old man, resigned. He then shrugged his shoulders, slowly stood up with his crooked old back and bowed old legs, and shuffled off.
Only later, when the first old man saw the second old-timer shuffle up to a new paper roll, with a team number safety-pinned on his sunken chest, right below his scrawny chicken-neck -- and when he saw that old, bent twig of a man arch back at his knees and spew a chaw so far off the chart that the crowd screamed in delight -- did the first old man realize that he'd lost his bet.
And that it was time for him, too, to get off his old butt -- and put his mouth where his money was.
Thus, do one thing, and you've done something.


January 5, 2008, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 3, "Emotion's Mastery"), Copyright © 2008 by Frank H. Burton. Dedicated to you who do a new thing this new year.

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The Human, The Sentient
One day a human looked up into the zenith of the heavens, arcing above her blue and green-swathed Earth.
She saw a small, cloudy galaxy far, far away -- Canis Major, pulled along like a puppy on a leash of a billion stars.
The human felt a lonesome chill in her heart, and heard a distant voice calling to her -- and wondered, "Is there anybody out there?" She devoted her life to listening to the radioed songs of the spheres -- listening for but one word, one tune, one message.
And she pointed her antennae to Canis Major.
But there was only silence.
One day, a million years hence, a sentient will look up into the zenith of the heavens, arcing above its small, blue and red-swathed world.
It will see a huge galaxy spiraling above it, so, so close -- the Milky Way, pulling its own galaxy into her vast, slow embrace.
The sentient will feel a lonesome chill in its center, and hear a distant voice calling to it -- and wonder, "Is there anybody out there?" It will devote its life to listening to the radioed songs of the spheres -- listening for but one word, one tune, one message.
And it will point its antennae into the arms of the Milky Way.
And shall hear.
Thus, we are not alone, and we have a purpose.


Parable of the Year, New Year's Eve, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 2, "Assumption's Denial"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton. The Parable of the Year is dedicated to SETI (The Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence) and to the memory of its greatest proponent, Carl Sagan; to Louis Leakey's Angels -- Jane Goodall, Biruté Galdikas, and the memory of Dian Fossey, who have fought to save humanity's closest cousins; to David Brin, and Al Gore, who have revealed new possibilities; and to all who fight for sapient life's noble future. May all who did well now rest, and may all the rest now do well.

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The Spectator, The Participant
Two men each had a small, black-and-white television set.
On their TVs they watched the happenings of the day -- slippered feet perched upon cushions, hands dipped in bowls of pretzels and popcorn, potato chips and onion dip.
And the years changed only the size of their bellies.
Then, one day, the news channels showed the death of one hundred thousand souls in a far distant land -- due simply to a lack of water purifiers.
Sitting on their couches, both men watched the carnage and misery on their small, black-and-white TV sets -- and they each stood up, put on their pants, combed their hair, and walked out of their apartments.
Later that day, both returned home.
The first, carrying a wide-screen color TV.
The second, carrying five hundred water filters and a plane ticket to a far distant land.
Thus, live life -- not witness it.


December 21, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 3, "Emotion's Mastery"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton. Dedicated to you who give of yourselves or the bounty you create.

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The Resigned, The Revolutionary
Born into poverty, near the army base of an invading power, were two sisters.
Without food, their parents forced them to prostitute themselves for money to feed the family.
One sister, pulling at her filthy dress and twisting a strand of oily hair, whispered to the other, "I know you hate this. I do too!" But the glint of hatred in her eyes faded into dullness, and her head dropped.
"This is how the world has always been," she sighed.
But her sister stood and gazed with determination at her downtrodden sibling. "Sister," she replied, "our world is what we make of it!"
She then belted her rancid smock, leaned down and kissed the bowed head of her sister, and grabbed her only pair of shoes - one black, one brown.
"I love you, my sister, but no more will I feed my parents with my own body."
"Today, I begin a new world for women like you and me!"
And she marched out of her brothel -- and into other brothels, and schools and churches, in all the neighboring villages -- to recruit those like her to become resistors, educators, employers, and politicians.
To so change the world in her image.
Thus, revolution begins with one turn.


December 14, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 2, "Assumption's Denial"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

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The Minnow, The Salmon
From a mountain spring burst the Water of Life, flowing to the grey, salty ocean far below.
Over rocks and valleys the living water split into endless cascades, and each cascade was unique unto itself.
But all still rushed down toward the grey, quiet horizon.
One moment, in one such cascade, was born a Minnow. Briefly the brightly colored Minnow tarried in a small eddy, but soon was caught up in the mighty rush of water and hurtled down into the grey ocean, and was lost.
Also in that moment, in another such cascade, was born a Salmon. But the brightly colored Salmon did not drift downward with the rushing waters. It skipped and leaped up and across, from cascade to cascade.
Although the living water in which it was conceived rushed without cease to the grey ocean, the bright Salmon continued on.
Thus, do not let your ideas die with you -- let them leap.


December 7, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 1, "Reality's Acceptance"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

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The Fist, The Hand
A great commander assembled his lieutenants for war.
One lieutenant asked him, "Sir, your former compatriot and long-since foe has offered parley upon the plain of battle. Shouldn't we respond to his overture?"
"From this enemy? No," the commander replied.
Confused, the lieutenant asked why.
"You are new to my staff, are you not?" The commander rose from the head of the conference table, gesturing to the lieutenant to also stand, then walked around the table to him.
The commander reached down to the table, plucked an almond from a silver dish full of nuts, and offered it to the lieutenant.
"Have an almond, lieutenant."
As the lieutenant looked down and picked the nut from the commander's extended palm, the commander asked him, "How do you know when a former friend has become your implacable enemy?"
The lieutenant pondered, and then replied, "I don't know, sir."
"Eat your nut, lieutenant."
The lieutenant quickly popped it into his mouth and chewed it.
"You look hungry. Please, have another," the commander said as he picked up and extended to him a second almond.
But as the lieutenant reached out to take the second almond, the commander closed his palm around it into a fist -- which slowly reared back and then suddenly loomed in the lieutenant's surprised face.
The lieutenant found himself lying on his back on the carpet, blood dripping from one nostril down into his ear.
The commander dropped the nut, bent over him and solicitously reached down his open hand, saying, "Here, son, let me help you up."
But the lieutenant brushed away his hand.
The commander straightened, smiled with satisfaction, and said, "So, you do know, after all."
Thus, to become a fist, the open hand will first close.


November 30, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 1, "Reality's Acceptance"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

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The Retreat, The Charge
Dark thickets and ravines shrouded the countryside.
Toward this spectral wood ran two young sisters, on an urgent task from the town to carry medicine to their grandmama.
But upon hearing a hooting owl and the rustling of animals in the murky undergrowth beneath the old, gnarled trees, the sisters skidded to a halt and froze, faces blanching.
Beyond lay only mist.
The elder sister, eyes wide and voice trembling, grasped at her younger sister's tiny hand and murmured, "We must turn back and walk around this woods!"
A hiss like the quenching of fired metal burst from her little sister's pursed lips.
"No!" she replied, with steel in her eyes and voice. "That was just an owl, and that rustling was probably rabbits!"
She stood rapier-straight.
"Our grandmama is ill! This is the only way to get the medicine to her fast!"
"I won't go, not this way!" the older sister cried. "Maybe we can search for another way through or around?"
"You know there's only one way!" the younger sister said with finality, and urgently reached for the medicine.
As her big sister, stomach clenched from fear and indecision, passed her the small package, the young girl held it close to her chest, took a deep breath, narrowed her eyes, and plunged into the dark woods to save her grandmama.
Thus, sometimes the only way out is through. -- via Robert Frost


November 23, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 3, "Emotion's Mastery"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

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The Years, The Momentum
Youth and elder, they found each other, joined by infirmity, sitting on a park bench.
In talking, they found they were both near the end of their days, from untreatable illnesses -- the old man's after a lifetime of traveling and seeing the world, and the young woman's after a brief time founding and working at a shelter for battered women and children.
The old man looked pityingly on the young woman, and asked her, "Don't you find it sad that you'll die so young? While I've lived so long traveling the world and seeing so much, that I've grown tired of it?"
The young woman looked at the old man with a small smile, placed her hand on the old man's shoulder, and then asked him, "Don't you find it sad that you'll die after so long a life spent as a spectator, without advancing even one other person's life?"
"Come! Work with me in the time we remain!"
Thus, measure your life not in years, but in momentum.


November 16, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 1, "Reality's Acceptance"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

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The Mite, The Flea
Pedagogue and Pupil strode an ancient acropolis above a teeming city.
One evening the Pupil, dismayed at his childish writings after a long day's lessons, pounded his fist on his robed thigh and asked, "Master, do our lives even matter? Are we not insignificant?"
The Pedagogue smiled, his cheeks and forehead crinkling, as he walked. He stopped and bent down to stroke the head of a passing puppy, and brushed his hand under the dog's belly. Then he held his hand up to his Pupil's face, illuminated in a wall's torchlight.
"Look in my hand," the Pedagogue said. "What do you see?"
The Pupil looked down at his master's open hand. "Master, I see nothing in your hand."
"Look closer," the Pedagogue replied.
The Pupil's nose almost touched his master's open palm. "Master, there's nothing there!"
The Pedagogue replied, "Did you not regard a Mite, chewing on a fleck from the dog's skin -- and a Flea, poised to leap?"
"No, Master," the Pupil replied.
Then the Pedagogue extended his hand, touched his Pupil's arm briefly, and pointed up to the darkening sky. "Regard the Cosmos, my Pupil."
The Pupil looked up and stared at the stars -- but sullenly, just as doubtful of the world's significance to the cosmos as of his significance to the world.
"Agh!"
The Pupil jerked his head back down as something bit his arm. He peered at his skin in the torchlight, until he saw a tiny black speck -- the Flea, placed there by his Peripatetic mentor's touch -- digging into his skin.
The Pedagogue beamed, and said, "Now what do you see?"
Thus, like insects we seem insignificant -- until we puncture the skin of the World.


November 9, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 1, "Reality's Acceptance"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

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The Mousetrap, The Cheese
In the wall of a prim countryside cottage lived two mice.
One night, when the two-pawed giants lay sleeping in their quilted nests, the first mouse ventured out into the kitchen for breadcrumbs -- whereupon he espied a large hunk of cambozola.
There in the middle of the moonlit plain of linoleum tiles the cheese sat -- like an offering -- perched on a brass throne in the center of a raised, wooden dais.
Elation coursed through the mouse's little body like a crackling electric spark, sending his nose whiskers a'twitching.
"Oh," he thought to himself as he dashed up to the side of the white, blue-green marbled cheese, "life is so good!"
As his jaws clamped down on the wonderfully smelly cheese, the mousetrap upon which it sat sprung -- and, before he could have even one more fleeting, gullible thought, snapped all his thoughts off in an instant.
Another night, when the two-pawed giants again lay snoring in their nests, did the second mouse venture out onto the kitchen floor -- whereupon he too espied a large chunk of cambozola cheese, sitting on its brass throne and raised wooden dais.
The mouse dashed toward the cheese with elation coursing through his veins -- but then skidded to a halt before the dais, and pondered it.
"Oh," he thought to himself as he sniffed the cheese and the dais, "life is good -- perhaps too good? Where before there were only scattered breadcrumbs, now there is this, this offering? On this burnished throne? Of the smelliest, most wonderful of cheeses? And why does this wooden dais upon which it sits smell a bit like...soap and mouse pee?"
And so did the second mouse creep back from a fortune too cheesy to be true.
Thus, doubt is the beginning of truth.


November 2, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 2, "Assumption's Denial"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

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The Proclaimer, The Achiever
Banners flapped in the breeze over the homes of two village weavers.
One weaver proclaimed to the whole village her great skill, and said she had in mind a cloak that would be as light as fog, a marvel to behold.
"As soon as I weave it, people shall come from miles away to stroke it and drape it over their shoulders, and I'll be famous throughout the land!"
The other weaver also had in mind a cloak of the finest weave and design, and too thought that people would come from miles to see and stroke it -- but she kept her silence, for, after all, she'd done nothing as yet.
The day soon came when the first weaver, swamped by the priorities of daily existence, and shunning the demands of her own dream, decided to continue loudly proclaiming her potential greatness, while postponing its birth for yet another year.
But on this same day, the other weaver, bursting with her secret dream, murmured, "Ah, to hell with busy work!"
She threw off her job, ate like a beggar, and wove.
With all her spirit, she wove the warp and weft of her soul.
And soon thereafter came the day when the first weaver gazed, dumbfounded, at a robe only she thought she could make, yet never had -- carried on the shoulders of the second weaver, who in turn was carried on the shoulders of all the villagers in celebration.
Thus, your ideas are not creations -- to be real, they must really be.


October 26, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 3, "Emotion's Mastery"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

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The Panda, The Roach
Zoo life became the most beautiful animal on Earth -- the Panda, who with a single coy glance melted the heart of any who chanced upon him; who with one tumbling pratfall made people burst into laughter and joy.
Yet deep in the rocks of the zoo enclosure also lived the ugliest animal on Earth -- the Roach, who by crawling onto the rocks to sun himself caused children and mothers to scream in distress; who by unfurling his buzzing wings and dangling abdomen made people burst into a dead run.
One day, the Panda came up to sniff the sunning Roach, and the Roach spread his antennae wide and said, "I wish I was like you! People would love me, and laugh when they see me! I would be so warm, and my carapace would be fuzzy, instead of shiny and smooth!"
The Panda laughed. "Hey! I was going to say the same thing!"
"What I wouldn't give to be like you!" the Panda mused, while chewing a bamboo husk. "I'd love to be able to put a scare in those people who stare at me all day! Their cooing gets on my nerves. And they laugh at me when I fall down! You never fall -- you have six legs! And I'd love to be able to fly up and away over their heads, and to eat other stuff in the dirt besides this stiff bamboo! And your carapace stays so glossy and clean, and here my fur is all yellow!"
In that moment the Panda and Roach saw each other in a new light. Both were perfect, after all - because both were the epitome of themselves.
Thus, be perfectly yourself.


October 19, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 1, "Reality's Acceptance"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

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The Caterpillar, The Butterfly
It was an insect who had no wings.
It longed to fly, like other beautiful insects it saw when it looked up into the clouds, but all it had ever known was anxiety -- and so it ate and ate, and grew so very fat.
"Oh, I will never fly now, nor ever be beautiful!" the insect cried, as it rolled and pitched precariously on a tiny twig, and munched a green leaf with its six little jaws. Its compound eyes scanned the heavens for a solution, but saw none there.
The poor insect grew still and cold in dismay, and then spun a silken hammock for itself to lie down in its misery. It was so anxious that it spun and spun the hammock around itself, until it shut away the entire world.
And then it cowered, and, so cowering, passed into insensate stupor.
So, much later, after time unknown to it had passed, was the insect more surprised than any other to awaken with a new purpose in its head and a new form for its body. It spread, dried and tested its newly grown multihued wings, and then, unfurling its coiled tongue and tasting for the first time the sweetness of the breeze, soared into the clouds -- alive anew.
Thus, who you are may be merely an incubator of who you can be.


October 11, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 2, "Assumption's Denial"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

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The Cicada, The Beetle
Dawn rouged the pale bodies of two newborns - a Cicada and a Beetle.
The Cicada, a newly hatched but well-fed larva, dug a bed deep in the earth, and therein slept for seventeen years.
Arising on the moonlit night of a new millennium, he emerged from the Cocoon of the Earth reborn, with great rasping wings that shimmered like oil on still water.
Yet, as the Cicada flew into the night, he hurried about his business of finding a mate with desperation -- for, after sleeping most of his existence away, he had remaining to him but a few short weeks of life.
The Beetle as a pupa slept but a span of days, not years.
Arising on the first dark night after the gibbous moon, which had been a nightlight for his slumber, he emerged in armor as black and as sharp as volcanic glass.
Then he marched into the night, and to his business of building a home and winning a mate, with industry.
For he was young, strong, and the years of his future spread out wide and far beneath his armored feet.
Thus, better late than never -- but better earlier than late.


October 5, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 1, "Reality's Acceptance"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

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The Freeman, The Slave
As boys in the heart of summer, a freeman and a slave played together on a plantation.
The freeman child went on to a fine school and learned much about the world, while the young slave learned to read and write secretly, by moonlight.
As a grown man, the freeman returned to the cotton plantation of his childhood. Although his teachings conflicted with being a slave owner, he stifled his doubt and drove his father's slaves with a cane -- and a hardening heart. In night sweats, he cried out as he dreamed of what his slaves would do to him, were liberty to roost in the nest of their minds.
The slave saw the change in his boyhood friend, so told him nothing of the wonders of the world he'd read about in secret books brought to him by traders from beyond the plantation. Instead, as he learned what lay beyond the cotton fields, he taught his kin all he knew about right and wrong, and good and evil.
"The root of all evil," he said to them, "is refusing to think."
One day, the slave led an insurrection of his fellow slaves, and together they fled north along the Underground Railroad in search of freedom and a better life. With his farming skills and ability to read, write, and cipher, he one day became a prosperous farmer and family man, and by old age a lawyer and church deacon.
The freeman, however, had lost along with his slaves all they had known about running the plantation. He'd never bothered to learn how to run a farm, assuming all he'd ever need to know was how to run his slaves. So he was forced to sell off the plantation, acre by acre, to local small farmers, until he was left with nothing but an empty house.
Then he sat on an old rocking chair on his porch, and for the remaining years of his life drowned himself in whiskey and watched the paint flake from its eaves.
Thus, freedom is the well of reason, but one must drink from the well.


September 28, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 1, "Reality's Acceptance"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

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The Husband & Wife, The Spouses
Dwelling on the outskirts of a city, in a small cul-de-sac, was a loving family -- a husband and wife, their two children, and their pet dog.
Each morning, as the husband walked to his car to commute to work, he looked across their small cul-de-sac at the empty windows of a house for sale, and imagined what his future neighbors would be like.
"Hope they'll be nice," he thought to himself, "and that the husband plays golf!"
Each afternoon, as the wife picked up after their young son, daughter and poodle, she stared out her bay window's curtains at the vacant house across the way, and imagined her future neighbors.
"Oh, what if the wife likes to cook? We'll share all our best recipes!"
Each day, as the young son and daughter played in the front yard, they glanced across at the empty swing in front of the vacant house, and imagined what the neighboring children would be like.
"Maybe they'll let us use their swing!" the sister said to her brother.
Then, one day, the "For Sale" sign was gone.
The very next morning, a moving van arrived. The husband, wife, kids, and even the poodle stared out of their bay window at a station wagon that drove up to the new home, and from which a family poured out: a boy and a girl, their Scottish terrier, and their two parents -- who hugged, kissed and held each other arm-in-arm as they strolled up to their new home behind their scampering children.
The mouths of the husband and wife peering out from the bay window fell open.
The two parents of the new family were both women.
The husband and wife turned and stared at one another. They both began to frown.
But the slamming of their screen door jarred them from their stupor. Through the bay window they saw their kids and their poodle -- feet and paws flying -- dashing across the street to welcome their new playmates and their two mommies.
Thus, marriage is a voluntary union of sapients.


September 21, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 2, "Assumption's Denial"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton. Dedicated to the worldwide victims of so-called "Defense of Marriage" and other homophobic or anti-gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgendered legislation, and to civil rights judges -- heroes in black, not white, robes.

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The Way of Taqlid, The Way of 'Aql
Proudly the tribe reigned over deserts white with sand and spotted with black pools of oil.
Although war had been thrust upon them since the grey dawn of history, until peace was a fleeting memory, among their number had lived mathematicians, astronomers, scientists and librarians -- who had saved the foundations of the Edifice of Man.
Yet, when Man learned to transmute the black oil into gold, and when the hearts of many claimed the garden from which all men arose, the land and the tribe were torn with strife 'ere unseen.
Two youths lived in that place and that time.
The first youth grew to hate all who, long before, had oppressed and driven out his people. Hearing the cries of zealous religious scholars for jihad, one sunrise after prayers he said to himself, "I will do as my scholars preach, for surely they know best, while I know so little."
Imitating so many before him, he strapped on a bomb and blew himself up inside a schoolyard, killing the children of his enemy.
Following the way of Taqlid to his murderous death, his face, in its last moment, was sadly alight with expectation.
The second youth also grew to hate his people's lot, yet saw the children of his oppressors in a different light -- as people like him, trapped by both circumstance and belief.
Whenever hatred and the call to jihad surged in his breast, he recalled the terror in the faces of not only their tribe's children but of the children of their enemy, and his struggle turned inward. He, too, prayed to Allah, but said to himself, "As the Prophet used the way of 'Aql -- of intellect and mind -- to restore our tribes to faith, so too must my shoulders carry the weight of interpreting his teachings; I must use my own intellect and mind."
"And my ijtihad, my inner struggle, tells me that murdering others is not the way to paradise, either here on earth or in the heavenly presence of Allah."
So did the second youth start a madrassa, which he named The Lifting of The Black Stone, to teach ways of peaceful cooperation and non-violent resistance taught by Abraham, Moses, Buddha, Confucius, Jesus, Muhammad, Sumayya, Bahá'u'lláh, Gandhi, King, Mandela, and Suu Kyi.
And his madrassa gradually restored to his people their once and future path of logic and questioning -- the only way to transform enemy into ally; the way of war through peace.
Thus, the true jihad is ijtihad. -- via Irshad Manji


September 11, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 2, "Assumption's Denial"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton. Dedicated to the victims of 9/11 and of fundamentalist terrorism.

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The Apples, The Oranges
He was a great religious orator, a Preacher of a particular religion that claimed absolute salvation for all who shared its beliefs -- and absolute damnation for all who did not.
Yet as the right hand mirrors the left, so too was there a great philosophical orator, a Mentor of a particular philosophy that claimed regard for all -- without regard to their religious or non-religious beliefs.
One day the Preacher and the Mentor espied each other across a fruit bin at a food market.
With a baleful stare, the Preacher pointed his finger straight down and cried, "Repent! Believe in God, or be damned!"
The Mentor pondered, then picked up two fruits and replied, "And which God is that? The God of apples or the God of oranges?"
"My God!" cried the Preacher, aghast.
"Exactly the problem!" replied the Mentor, as he put first one, then the other, fruit in his basket. "How tart we'd become, on a diet of only oranges. How cloying, were our bellies filled just with applesauce, apple pie, apple juice."
The Mentor then gently placed a third fruit in the Preacher's basket. "And on your exclusive diet, oh how sour have your followers become!"
The Preacher glanced down at the fruit.
It was a lemon.
Thus, religion is a garden of the spirit, to be tended in all its diversity.


September 7, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 2, "Assumption's Denial"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

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The Slave, The Gladiator
Colonnades, now broken and mouldy, gleamed pink rose in the Rome where lived a slave and a wounded gladiator.
Both men had been sentenced to the arena, wherein prowled hungry lions.
They were sentenced to be the lions' food.
As they stood before the metal gate shortly to open into the arena, the slave grasped the gladiator's one good arm, looked up into his face, and yelled through the deafening roar of the crowd, "I shall kneel and show my neck, so that the lions will be able to kill me with one swift bite."
The gladiator frowned down at him. "But you gain your freedom if you pick up a sword and slay or make lame the lions!" he said. "The way your grasp is cutting off the blood to my one good arm, it is clear you have two strong hands to my one -- and you are short enough to stab the lions under their bellies. Why would you not fight for your life, and for happiness?"
"I am puny, and would never succeed! My last moments on earth would be spent hearing roars of laughter louder than the roars of the lions!" the slave cried.
"But only the Gods know our fate if we pick up the sword, little friend -- and even They might wager on us!" The gladiator laughed, and gently freed his good arm. "So I, for one, am going out to slay some lions!"
And the gate lifted.
Thus, you are a fighter by design -- and a slave only by choice.


August 31, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 3, "Emotion's Mastery"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

___

The Pond Dwellers, The Platypus
Say God had a Claw.
If He skewered the pond with that mighty Claw, It'd poke out the other side of the world -- on the island continent from whence the Platypus came.
Ask the Platypus how he came to be in this woodland pond so far from home, he'd clap his duckbill a few times, and a silent tear would trickle down his furry face.
But one bright day, he shook off the dew beaded on his oily-smooth coat and scuttled over the muddy shoreline to greet a gaggle of wood ducks -- although they were known throughout the pond for being hoity-toity.
"Hullo!" the Platypus croaked, in a voice not unlike a toad's.
The wood ducks just stared at first, at the rubbery grey bill, furry little brown head and body, beaver tail and absurd clawed, webbed feet. Then they laughed.
"Look at him! Fur instead of bright feathers! What a duck is he!"
But the Platypus smiled, turned and dove into the very deepest part of the pond.
After being submerged so long that the ducks gaggled about the poor, clownish creature having drown'd, the Platypus burst back out of the water onto the banks -- and from his big grey bill dropped a huge, delicious salad of slimy greens and tadpole garnish.
And so the wood ducks became his fast friends.
Then one rainy day, the Platypus left his new friends and scuttled over to greet some beavers, busily constructing a mud and twig hut.
"Hullo!" the Platypus croaked, accompanying his greeting with a nice, gooshy slap of his beaver-tail on the soft mud.
The beavers turned from their work and chortled at the vision of this tiny beaver who possessed, beneath his earnest little face, no bright yellow teeth, but a duck's bill glued on his mouth.
"Go lay an egg, duck boy!" they cried.
But the Platypus smiled, reached toward a bush and with a quick snick of his sharp claws severed a huge stick. Breaking it in two with his strong little furry arms, he spun around to scoop a wad of mud with his flat tail, and tossed both the sticks and the mudball high over the beavers' heads -- to plop solidly onto the growing rim of their beaver hut.
The beavers stared at the well-platted lump of new wall, then turned back to the Platypus -- and in unison slapped their tails in welcome.
And so both the haughty wood ducks and the crude, muddy beavers became the Platypus' fast friends.
And one pink, foggy dawn, the Platypus brought them all together for a backwoods hoe-down -- where all day and into the moonlit night was heard a joyous chorale of quacks and thumping percussion.
Thus, if you are in between, be a bridge.


August 24, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 2, "Assumption's Denial"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

___

The Feather, The Wing
House sparrows spent their days in search of seeds to fill their busy bellies.
One sparrow spread his smooth, brown wings and flitted from tree to tree -- his masked face and black pearl eyes espying the backyards below him.
But the other sparrow hopped along the ground, wings tucked, in search of his food.
The first sparrow, observing the second, called down, "Hey! Hey! Hey, you!"
"Why don't you spread your wings and fly, instead of hopping on your claws?"
The second sparrow looked up at him and said, "Hey you, too! Here's why!"
And the second bird opened his wings to reveal a set of sorry-looking, ruffled feathers.
So misaligned were they, that the wing they fashioned wasn't sturdy enough in catching the air to easily lift a fat -- or even so much as a thin -- sparrow.
"I can barely reach the lowest tree branches with these feathers," the second sparrow sighed. "They just don't fit right."
He refolded his ragged wing-feathers, shrugged his little, stooped sparrow shoulders, and cocked his head.
"So, I live under the bushes and hop to my food."
Thus, make sure each of your wing-feathers fit together, or you will not soar.


August 17, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 2, "Assumption's Denial"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

___

The Forest, The Prairie
Ere the passing of the Ice Age thirty thousand years before, the tribe had lived in the great forest.
A young warrior of the tribe often leapt upon the bare back of his appaloosa to explore the meandering rivers, valleys and hills of the forest.
He felt the rough, smooth or flaking bark -- and peered at the unique lobes and spikes on the leaves -- of uncounted trees, all well-met friends.
Then, one day, roaming further than ever he had before into the dim forest undergrowth, he saw, from the east, daylight penetrate the trunks of the entire forest -- and was afraid.
Slowly, he nudged his horse eastward.
The great arches of the trees slowly separated, no longer meeting in the sky to make a bower over his head, but only reaching for each other like parted lovers.
Onward the warrior went, until, far ahead, he saw the trees simply stop -- and beyond, brilliant daylight.
So did the warrior come to the eastern edge of the great forest.
He stopped under the last of the trees, and, from their shade, gazed out at a sight he'd never before seen, nor ever imagined.
A golden prairie, vast and unending.
And a robin's-egg sky, vaulting far above the pale daylight moon.
The young warrior saw the true measure of his little forest, and his little life, and laughed while he cried.
Then, with a leap of his heart and a stroke upon the tossing mane of his appaloosa, he galloped into the Golden.
Thus, the mind is distracted by its own clutter -- to see far, leave it behind.


August 10, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 1, "Reality's Acceptance"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

___

The Thundercloud, The Rainbow
In a virgin land, mountains loomed over deep valleys. Yet above even the tallest of these mountains marched great, stately columns of clouds -- and often their feet grew dirty.
In this land, deep in the valleys of great shadows, lived two young girls of a creek-side tribe.
When the feet of the great clouds turned black from striding over the mountains, the two girls sat together, holding at bay one another's trembling, while lightning and rain whipped the earth before them -- until the clouds had stepped over their small valley, on into the eastern mesas.
One day, the first young girl said to her friend, "I've heard of a wondrous thing!"
"It is said if one climbs to the rim of the mesas at daybreak and turns to face the greatest of thunderclouds, that, right before the torrent strikes you, you will see above the valley a circle of light. And it will shine in every color of the earth, sea and sky!"
The other girl replied, "So too have I heard this!"
But her head dropped. "Yet, to see this thing, one must stand before the tumult, and walk through it home!"
"We shall do it!" the first girl exclaimed.
But the second girl only shook her head.
"No. You must go alone. I am too afraid of the lightning and the thunder, of the winds and the rain."
And so, in the dark before dawn, when black-foot clouds strode over the western peaks and the air whipped and rumbled with the giants' wet breath, the first young girl silently donned her moccasins, and a small pack of food and oiled buffalo hide, and stepped out from her teepee.
Hearing a footfall, she turned and stared into the face of her friend.
"When you return, will you tell me of the circle of colors?" her friend asked.
The young explorer's eyes glinted with the last of the moon.
"I shall!"
Thus, you must drink from the cup of dreams, or from the cup of regret.


August 3, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 3, "Emotion's Mastery"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton. Dedicated to the victims of the I-35W collapse, who each were on their journey.

___

The Three-Legged Stool, The Four-Legged Stool
Carpenters ran neighboring shops in a small village courtyard.
One carpenter, a well-to-do man, fashioned a satin-cushioned stool with three legs. It was lustrous, with ornate frill and spindly, curved legs -- and all who came to see it in his fancy shop window applauded its great beauty.
The other carpenter, a poorer and much less talkative man, had also fashioned a stool, but with four legs. It was boxy, much like a straight wooden chair with no back -- and all who walked by where it sat on the stoop of the second carpenter's shop ignored it, or whispered, "That poor carpenter is so boring and old-fashioned!"
Yet one day, the Chieftain, with his young prince in tow, came to the village to shop -- and all the villagers peered over each other's shoulders as the entourage marched into the courtyard of the two carpenters.
The Chieftain glanced at the rich carpenter, who, surrounded by the villagers, genuflected deeply as he gestured expectantly at the gilded, three-legged stool in the shop window.
Then the Chieftain looked at the poor carpenter, who stood alone in his shop's doorway -- and at his thick, boxy, four-legged stool.
"Which stool do you want, my son?" asked the Chieftain, turning to look down to his young boy.
"Oh, the pretty one, Father!" exclaimed the young prince.
As the crowd applauded the young prince, the Chieftain said, "Bring out the stool for my son!" The first carpenter went into his shop window, lifted out his ornate, three-legged stool from its glass enclosure, and placed it before the prince.
"Bring out that one, too!" said the Chieftain, pointing at the unadorned, wooden four-legged stool. As the crowd laughed at his drab stool, the second carpenter reached down and placed it before the young prince.
"My son," said the Chieftain, "sit on your stool."
And thus did the prince hop onto his gracefully-made, upholstered, three-legged stool, and fall flat onto his backside as the stool toppled over.
As the crowd murmured, the Chieftain reached his hand down to his son, raised him up, and brushed off the dirt from his satin-robed bottom.
"My son," he said gently, "now try this other stool."
The prince sat on the other stool gingerly, then began trying to rock it over, but it was so boxy that it refused even to wobble.
"Father, this stool isn't pretty, but it works! I want this one!"
The Chieftain smiled at his heir for the lesson he'd won that day -- and rewarded the nervous first carpenter with his thanks, but the second carpenter with his gold.
Thus, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but usefulness is not.

July 27, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 3, "Emotion's Mastery"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

___

The Wolf Pack, The Lone Wolf
They lived to roam the hills of the midnight sun.
Together the wolf pack loped across the tundra in pursuit of adventure, and of prey. Their gazes darted back and forth among themselves, their hearts and thoughts in unison, their baying a chorus.
The pack was merciless to those wolves who, from the grey blush of age or the loss of vigor, fell behind. It turned upon them and rendered them, devouring their flesh, before running onward.
But one Lone Wolf was the strongest and most fearless of them all. Farthest-seeing, tallest-eared and keenest-nosed, he raced like the blowing wind, and leapt ahead of the pack, running free into lands far beyond the horizon.
In winter's long night, he called back to his mates, in a long, solitary howl, of the visions he had seen. And yet he ran onward, far, far ahead of the pack.
So did the time come when the Lone Wolf stopped -- to wait for the pack to catch up to him, to tell them of his visions and adventures.
As he saw the pack approach in the low-hanging moonlight, over the distant hills behind him, and heard their baying, his breath quickened, and he loped toward them in joyful homecoming.
But as he approached, the pack fell on him.
And rendered him, devouring his flesh.
Then, in uncaring ignorance of the visions that lay ahead, the pride of wolves ran on.
Thus, the pack cares not whether you run behind or ahead of it -- only that you run apart.

July 20, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 2, "Assumption's Denial"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

___

The Fog, The Sun
Amid the ruins of a castle on a moor lived an old hermit and his young pupil.
One day the fog lay on the moor like a spent lover, and all was grey.
"See you the lowering fog, boy?" asked the hermit.
"Aye," replied the boy, "I can spy nary a foot in front of our keep, teacher."
Then his teacher asked, "And how is this fog like the lives of men?"
The boy pondered, then replied, "Teacher, I know many a man and woman, 'tis true, who can see no further in front o' their faces than we do now."
"Indeed!" the old man laughed. "But then, young one, what be the Sun that burns away the fog to show our far horizons?"
To this the boy only shook his head.
Gently the old hermit reached out with one long, withered finger, and tapped at the boy's forehead, and the boy felt the hermit's touch as if it were a droplet of flame.
"Here is your Sun, boy. Here is your Sun."
Thus, reason can lead to meaning and purpose -- by burning away the fog that lies ahead.

July 13, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 1, "Reality's Acceptance"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

___

The Dodo, The Crow
In a verdant field surrounding a farm lived a Dodo and a Crow.
One year the farmland was sold. The Dodo and the Crow watched in silence from nearby bushes, while the old farmer glanced about at his past, stared down into his future, then slapped his straw hat against his leg like a horsewhip and walked away.
Soon came a horde of earthmovers crawling with construction workers, who ripped up the crops, trees and wild underbrush -- to build a parking lot and tract homes.
The Dodo ran about in circles. It squawked disconsolately when it saw its nest crushed by a tractor, leaving no underbrush to build anew. That night the cold winds came, and, to put the squawking Dodo out of its misery, a crew worker impulsively bashed in its head with his shovel.
The Crow, too, lost its treetop nest the very next day. As the gnarled old oak fell and was chipped into mulch by workers, the Crow circled, a cruciform specter, in the desolate sky. But, unlike the Dodo, the Crow set out the next day to build a new nest, where he could -- in the very top of the riggings used by the construction workers. With the crops all now laid waste, the Crow consumed the bodies of the shrews and mice uprooted from their nests and crushed under foot or wheel.
So did the Dodo find a new way to die, and the Crow find a new way to live.
Thus, the erasing of one path limns another.

July 4, 2007, excerpt from The Parables of Reason (Chapter 1, "Reality's Acceptance"), Copyright © 2007 by Frank H. Burton.

Links

We are pleased to present these links of interest to those wanting to learn more about or volunteer to encourage reason, charity and truly ecumenical fellowship in society:

The Religious Society of Friends (Quakers)
Unitarian Universalist Association
Baha'ism
Buddhism
United Religions Initiative
Atheists for Human Rights
Socrates Cafe
The Whitman Institute
Religious Tolerance
The Daniel Pearl Foundation (Promotion of Cross-Cultural Understanding)
The Logic of Surak
Starfleet (The International Star Trek Fan Association, Inc.)
The Foundation For A Better Life (Inspiring Positive Values)
The Gutenberg Project (Free Classic Book Downloads)
Wikipedia (Free Web Encyclopedia)
Snopes (Refuting Rumors and Urban Legends)
Media Matters For America
PR Watch
Quackwatch
World Future Society's Forecasts
Projections: A Futurist at the Movies
Children's Defense Fund
NotMYkid (Teen Behavioral Health)
Darkness to Light (Confronting Child Sexual Abuse)
Hands On Twin Cities and Hands On Network (USA)
Loaves and Fishes
Hazelden Foundation
Habitat for Humanity
AccountAbility Minnesota (Volunteer Accounting and Tax Assistance)
Mentoring Partnership of Minnesota
Big Brothers Big Sisters of America
MAD DADS, Men Against Destruction-Defending Against Drugs and Social-Disorder and Minneapolis MAD DADS (Visible Fatherly Presence in Drug- and Teen Gang- Ravaged Neighborhoods)
Social Venture Partners International (Venture Capital for Philanthropies)
Do Something (Volunteerism Clearinghouse and Local Volunteer Search Site)
Teaching Tolerance
The Southern Poverty Law Center
AmeriCorps
Senior Corps
Books for Africa
The Peace Corps
The Earth Corps (Training and Networking for Global Service)
CARE
UNICEF
Nonviolent Peaceforce
Nechama (Jewish Response To Disaster)
Give Us Wings (Helping Third World Villages Help Themselves)
The Grameen Bank (Bangladeshi Micofinancier) and Grameen Foundation USA (Third World Microfinancier)
The One Acre Fund (Agribusiness Assistance Turning African Subsistence Farmers Into Entrepreneurs)
Doctors Without Borders (Medecins Sans Frontieres)
The International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies
International Campaign to Ban Landmines
Lifestraw (Donating Personal Drinking Water Purifiers to Prevent Cholera & Dysentery)
Free The Slaves (Eliminating Worldwide Slavery and Human Trafficking)
International Atomic Energy Agency
Amnesty International
Human Rights Watch
Middle Eastern College for Reconciliation and Development (Teaching Arab and Israeli Children Civil Engagement)
Scholar Rescue Fund
The African Union
The United Nations
The U.S. Government Accountability Office (GAO)
The National Institute of Mental Health
The Nature Conservancy
The World Wildlife Fund
Ducks Unlimited (Wetland Conservation)
Greenpeace
Evangelical Climate Initiative
Carbon Capital Fund (Carbon Footprint Calculator and Personal Carbon Offset Purchasing)
GreenDisk, Inc. (Technotrash Recycling)
Recycles.org (Used Computer & Office Equipment Donation to Nonprofits)
Recycle City (Environmental Protection Agency Instructional Website)
General Motors EV1 (First Battery Electric Car)
Toyota Prius Plug-In Conversion (100+ mpg Hybrid+Battery Conversion Kit)
Transit for Livable Communities (Bus and Light & Commuter Rail Advocacy)
Windsource (Example Wind Power Subscription)
The Bonobo Conservation Initiative (Preventing Chimp Extinction)

With regret, we have removed the below charitable links due to their recent discriminatory practices in hiring or service. With your help (by petition or withholding donations) we hope to one day welcome these organizations back:

Catholic Charities (retracted policy allowing adoption by same-sex couples)
The Salvation Army (instituted policy denying employment to gays or lesbians)
The Boy Scouts of America (instituted policy denying membership to non-theists and gays)

Get Involved

Like what you see? Spread the word about our website!

Want to be a Member of The Circle of Reason and save the world by the turn of our next millennium? Contact Us, or visit or join one of our Local Circles and Virtual Local Circles, shared havens of true ecumenism for a saner world. Membership is optional, and free!

Want to participate in our public webforums and cross-cultural dialogues? Visit one of our online Virtual Local Circles and chime in!

Want increased clarity about your life? Join our Clarity Circles.

The Circle of Reason also encourages you to investigate, donate to and volunteer on behalf of the organizations listed in our Links, which we think admirably represent those present-day charities and activities that will help bring about more rational stewardship of our society and our planet.

The Circle is also organizing its own unique programs, for which we welcome enrollment:

1. Circle Wikilators -- If you are fluent in not only English but another language, volunteer by e-mailing us your translations of our Parable of The Week and Parables archive.

2. Circle StrikeForce -- Most bad events in the world are the consequences of our own actions magnified by 6.6 billion others acting in the same way. To remind us we all need to go "on strike" to avoid doing the things that, when done en masse, harm society and our planet, we are sponsoring the Circle StrikeForces, including DrugStrike, BingeStrike and its "242" (Two Drinks for Two Decades) celebration, CliqueStrike, CheatStrike, RageStrike, PollutionStrike and WarStrike.

3. Circle Reason-Monitors -- Much of what passes for public discourse is filled with denials of reality, questionable assumptions (false realities), and "argumentum ad hominem," or emotional insults or appeals. Reason-Monitors will sit by the front row and literally green-, yellow- or red- flag such errors to help keep the ship of state on an even keel.

Finally, we'd like to hear your Feedback. What do you (or don't you) like about our main website, tenets, parables or webforums? What would you like to see different? The Circle appreciates all feedback or tips, so speak up! Flaming allowed (as long as it helps you keep your cool later!)

Tools for Circle Members, Wikilators, StrikeForcers and Reason-Monitors are coming soon at CafePress.com.

Local Circles

In the soil of every belief can be inscribed a common circle -- wherein stand the reasoning.

Local Circles of Reason are neighborhood congregations of communal belief in the power of reasonable thought to transform our world and help humankind attain its next major step toward moral and philosophical maturity.

To join a Local Circle of Reason, Email us with your name and your city, state and country of residence.

There is no tithing, nor membership fee, to be a Member of The Circle of Reason, Inc. and of a Local Circle -- rich or poor, you are welcome here.

If you're the first of your community to join The Circle of Reason, ask our assistance in organizing a Local Circle in your city, house of worship, or secular group -- or join our online Virtual Local Circles to find nearby members.

Unlike other reason-based fellowships, The Circle of Reason does not convert members from their faiths -- members don't leave their religions, but reasonably guide them. Local Circles are encouraged to be founded in and sponsored by neighborhood churches, synagogues, mosques, temples and atheist groups, while welcoming members of every belief and creed, so that all may learn how to believe (or disbelieve) without aggression, by faith -- circumscribing a shared religious- and reason- based morality.

Local Circle meetings are held on days other than Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays to avoid conflicting with religious Sabbath and Prayer days.

For tips on starting Local Circles and Circle activities, request our informational and organizational PowerPoint show.

And, if you're not sure about joining The Circle of Reason, ask yourself, "What Would Surak Do?"


Your email address and member contact information shall remain private and will not be released to anyone, including other members, without your explicit request.

Virtual Local Circles

Gather in, speak out, listen up, get down.

Want to seek out new logical life, and new rational civilizations? To clearly go where no one has gone before?

Want to find, recruit, converse with and encourage -- from all walks of life, all biologies, all beliefs, all societies -- those who are your own kinsmen and kinswomen - the reasonable kind?

Want to discuss the role of reason, or its absence, in our "modern" society?

Want to help humankind at long last attain philosophical and moral maturity?

You're looking for The Circle of Reason's Virtual Local Circles:

1. Facebook Circle of Reason -- Our largest Virtual Local Circle, Facebook members come to this public webforum to find reasonable voices from all corners of the planet, and participate in ongoing lively discussions. (Founded February 2008)

2. Beliefnet Circle of Reason -- Looking for kindred souls even if you have different (or no) beliefs? Join the new B'net Circle of Reason and participate in its emerging interfaith dialogue. Atheists most welcome! (Founded April 2008)

3. The Round Table -- Pull up a chair to The Round Table, The Circle of Reason's ad-free online webforum for public discussion and anonymity-protected Clarity Circles. (Founded February 2008)

Sit down to The Round Table, Facebook Circle of Reason, or Beliefnet Circle of Reason today...and own our future.


To ensure privacy, Facebook, Beliefnet and The Round Table Virtual Local Circle webforums use optionally anonymous username IDs (avatars) with private e-mail address logins. As a Circle or Round Table member, your e-mail address will remain private and not be sold or distributed to any third-party organizations, nor shared with any other Circle or webforum members unless you specifically request we release it to members you designate by username.

Clarity Circles

Reason, like the sun, burns away the fog that lies ahead.

Want increased clarity about a big decision in your life?

Want to help another through an important life choice by simply -- and only -- asking questions, to help them perceive the realities, assumptions, and emotions that underlie their dilemma?

You're looking for the tradition of communal clear thinking historically begun by the Quakers, and which we both continue today -- Clarity Circles.

To begin or join an open and ongoing but anonymity-protected Online Clarity Circle, visit our public webforum, The Round Table, today.

To begin or join a private chatroom- or live Skype VOIP- based Online Clarity Circle, visit the Facebook Circle of Reason today.

To begin or join a Real-World Clarity Circle, please Contact Us with your name and your city, state and country of residence.

Online Clarity Circles may be started at any Virtual Local Circle. Speed and anonymity is best provided in The Round Table webforum (ad-free page refresh, optional anonymous avatar/public username ID, and no linked photos or personal profiles); private chatroom-based or live "Voice Over Internet Protocol" (VOIP)-based Clarity Circles, respectively using Facebook Chat or Skype, may be organized and scheduled at the Facebook Circle of Reason. Your Round Table webforum login e-mail address shall remain private and not be shared with any third parties or other Circle members, nor with other webforum users unless you specifically request we release it to users you designate by username.