Superstitions

Last week, as is not unusual for this time of year, there was a well-defined thunderstorm line immediately to the west, which we were driving toward on our way home. Lennon didn't ask me anything about it, although it was a very distinct characteristic of our immediate view. It occurred to me that, as a Kansas kid, this is probably no longer an odd sight to him at nearly six years old.

But I couldn't remember ever needing to explain to him what the giant shadow with flashing lights in the sky was. I wondered what I said. I bet I told him about storms in a very scientific way. I bet I told him everything I've learned that other people discovered about weather.

Then I thought about the Plains tribes who didn't have the meteorological knowledge--just experience and superstition. What did they say?

They created the best explanation they could for this monumental, unavoidable natural force that was holding their children's attention. Just like I did. They probably told the same story they were told as children.

And then I wondered, did they believe it to be fact? Or were they comfortable with metaphor?

What if they were?

And, as is not unusual for me, I wondered about all ancient religions and their lore, their explanations. I wonder at what point the story to explain the unknown and tame the wild crossed the line into "fact;" into religion. Was there an elder who knew it was bullshit?

What if we're the simple ones for elevating campfire stories to god status?