A fat duck, a late baby and January Joggers
…amongst other things, and in no particular order. Let’s start with the baby. We know you’re in there, come out where we can see you! Little (Edward, Noah, Thom, Milly, Molly or Grace – we like them all) is late, officially 3 days late as of this moment. Joni was 6 days late too, so maybe come Wednesday…the nightmare thing is, our flat looks set to “come through” by the end of the Month – what a combination. Welcome to stress city, where the nights are as long as washing machines are heavy.
So we were in Stokesley yesterday, a good place for second-hand shops even if the “Angel” café which we visited (for the last time) is overpriced, overcrowded and understaffed (the coffee’s cheap tasting, the hot chocolate’s greasy and the scones are non-existent – I could go on? Don’t expect tables to be cleared just because their occupants have (long) gone! I think I could have had a good meal if I’d sat at a few tables and helped myself to the left-overs and left-behinds.)
We decided to take Joni down to the river to feed the ducks, and so I nipped into the bakers and forked out 30 pence for two buns – I know that in the past we’ve just stared at you, poor ducks, but Joni’s back to make amends - this time she has bread, and fresh bread at that! You will not paddle over to her in vain!
Excitedly we walk down to the river, Joni swinging the bag of buns under her arm. We arrive at the bank side to see one duck – one solitary duck – paddling slowly up the river towards us, so Mummy arms Joni with a handful of bun. The duck is nearly level with us (strangely, it hasn’t turned towards us yet) - wait for it…wait for it…NOW, Joni! Throw! And Joni throws her bread into the path of the duck, which glances – we think it glances – ever so slightly at our offering, without turning its head, as it paddles on by. We all look on, open mouthed…did it not see the bread? Then, in a scene which calls to mind Spielberg’s “War of the Worlds” (where the little girl goes down to the river bank), we notice the soggy objects floating down the river towards us – first one, then three, then a seemingly countless mass of bread. The duck paddles through the bread, not looking to the left or the right. And it is as if our eyes are suddenly opened – we notice the detritus all around us, the banks full of half-loaves, scattered and mutilated, ignored, decomposing. We add our buns to this sad graveyard, placing them gently down near some fresh looking Warburtons – wholemeal, still in its bag! – and drag our poor child away. The moral: fat ducks don’t care about little girls feelings… ;-)
I went for a run this morning, something that, with illness and weather and will taken into account, I’ve not been doing as much as I should. I did notice a lot of other joggers though – lots more than usual for a cold Sunday morning. Are these the January joggers, the New Year’s resolution crowd? Ha! Time will tell. Their faces are imprinted on my mind, well, at least they’re braving the elements. Saltburn can get cold.
Other than this, I don’t have much to report. I’ve had a few good e-mails back and forth with Peter about religion (what else), particularly with respect to the excellent documentary shown (the first part at least) on Monday, “The Root of all Evil” – with the root of all evil being religion, in the view of Richard Dawkins. There’s a lot I could say about the program, but I think I’ve covered it before. I don’t think religion has all the answers but I don’t think evolution does either (at least evolution doesn’t claim to have all the answers, unlike religion). Maybe evolution has more answers than I’ve given it credit for. Evolution doesn’t answer (perhaps it can’t, and perhaps nothing can) the big why’s – Why are we here at all? Why is there not nothing? – and perhaps God is “in the why’s”. Evolution is perhaps part of the answer, an answer that someone some day may know in full, if it is there to know - maybe it’s more of an answer than “God” is. For “God” isn’t an explanation, is it? I do agree with Dawkins on this point, that it seems strange to explain complexity by invoking complexity – in other words life, the universe (and everything!) is complex, so we need to imagine a more complex being who created these things? And where did this complexity originate? If we have to start from nothing eventually (“it just happened” or even “this has always been”), then why not start with life, the universe (and everything!)? – or imagine that the universe (or a universe or multiverse) has always been.
I do think that the attitude of Dawkins and (good) scientists in general, is certainly morally superior to those religionists who “know” everything and who will not be shaken from their “knowledge”. At least science is, by its very nature, open minded. No wars were ever fought over the composition of an atom, though the same cannot be said for the composition of God.
What I mean is, I think Dawkins view (and many would agree with it) is that it is better to stand on a hill of mud than a mountain of air.
A scientist can defend his position on his little hill of earth, and everyone who wishes (even a religious person) can examine his position, "see" his hill. A religious person, on the other hand, may make claims to mountain high knowledge, but can he show the scientist his mountain? Can he defend his position? If his mountain is really made out of air - empty words and empty faith - then the religious person, in the scientists view, is in fact standing on nothing at all.
Another view, expressed by Freeman Dyson, and perhaps it is closer to the truth of the matter, is that the scientist and the religious person can both have their relative heights (and climb them), because the hill and the mountain are not on the same "map", they cannot (should not) be compared with each other. In this view, religion and science are two windows through which one can view the universe, only one can't look through both windows at the same time. There are those who confine their view to one window, and those who can switch effortlessly between the two, and such a person (as Dyson) may even condemn the words and works of such as the - can I say 'scientific fundamentalist'? - Dawkins, who attack religion with scientific tools, just as naturally and easily as he would attack religious fundamentalists who attack science with religious tools (e.g. the I.D. debate).
Perhaps this is oversimplification, but I think it's a more human view: we will never, as Dawkins would dream, be free of the "shackles" of religion, just as we will never be free of the "shackles" of art, or poetry. There are things in life that cannot be expressed by equations or theories, and though problematic, I think a religious bent is potential, or expressed, in all humans. The grand unification of science and religion, of emotions with reason, may never happen, but could we imagine the world any other way?
So we were in Stokesley yesterday, a good place for second-hand shops even if the “Angel” café which we visited (for the last time) is overpriced, overcrowded and understaffed (the coffee’s cheap tasting, the hot chocolate’s greasy and the scones are non-existent – I could go on? Don’t expect tables to be cleared just because their occupants have (long) gone! I think I could have had a good meal if I’d sat at a few tables and helped myself to the left-overs and left-behinds.)
We decided to take Joni down to the river to feed the ducks, and so I nipped into the bakers and forked out 30 pence for two buns – I know that in the past we’ve just stared at you, poor ducks, but Joni’s back to make amends - this time she has bread, and fresh bread at that! You will not paddle over to her in vain!
Excitedly we walk down to the river, Joni swinging the bag of buns under her arm. We arrive at the bank side to see one duck – one solitary duck – paddling slowly up the river towards us, so Mummy arms Joni with a handful of bun. The duck is nearly level with us (strangely, it hasn’t turned towards us yet) - wait for it…wait for it…NOW, Joni! Throw! And Joni throws her bread into the path of the duck, which glances – we think it glances – ever so slightly at our offering, without turning its head, as it paddles on by. We all look on, open mouthed…did it not see the bread? Then, in a scene which calls to mind Spielberg’s “War of the Worlds” (where the little girl goes down to the river bank), we notice the soggy objects floating down the river towards us – first one, then three, then a seemingly countless mass of bread. The duck paddles through the bread, not looking to the left or the right. And it is as if our eyes are suddenly opened – we notice the detritus all around us, the banks full of half-loaves, scattered and mutilated, ignored, decomposing. We add our buns to this sad graveyard, placing them gently down near some fresh looking Warburtons – wholemeal, still in its bag! – and drag our poor child away. The moral: fat ducks don’t care about little girls feelings… ;-)
I went for a run this morning, something that, with illness and weather and will taken into account, I’ve not been doing as much as I should. I did notice a lot of other joggers though – lots more than usual for a cold Sunday morning. Are these the January joggers, the New Year’s resolution crowd? Ha! Time will tell. Their faces are imprinted on my mind, well, at least they’re braving the elements. Saltburn can get cold.
Other than this, I don’t have much to report. I’ve had a few good e-mails back and forth with Peter about religion (what else), particularly with respect to the excellent documentary shown (the first part at least) on Monday, “The Root of all Evil” – with the root of all evil being religion, in the view of Richard Dawkins. There’s a lot I could say about the program, but I think I’ve covered it before. I don’t think religion has all the answers but I don’t think evolution does either (at least evolution doesn’t claim to have all the answers, unlike religion). Maybe evolution has more answers than I’ve given it credit for. Evolution doesn’t answer (perhaps it can’t, and perhaps nothing can) the big why’s – Why are we here at all? Why is there not nothing? – and perhaps God is “in the why’s”. Evolution is perhaps part of the answer, an answer that someone some day may know in full, if it is there to know - maybe it’s more of an answer than “God” is. For “God” isn’t an explanation, is it? I do agree with Dawkins on this point, that it seems strange to explain complexity by invoking complexity – in other words life, the universe (and everything!) is complex, so we need to imagine a more complex being who created these things? And where did this complexity originate? If we have to start from nothing eventually (“it just happened” or even “this has always been”), then why not start with life, the universe (and everything!)? – or imagine that the universe (or a universe or multiverse) has always been.
I do think that the attitude of Dawkins and (good) scientists in general, is certainly morally superior to those religionists who “know” everything and who will not be shaken from their “knowledge”. At least science is, by its very nature, open minded. No wars were ever fought over the composition of an atom, though the same cannot be said for the composition of God.
What I mean is, I think Dawkins view (and many would agree with it) is that it is better to stand on a hill of mud than a mountain of air.
A scientist can defend his position on his little hill of earth, and everyone who wishes (even a religious person) can examine his position, "see" his hill. A religious person, on the other hand, may make claims to mountain high knowledge, but can he show the scientist his mountain? Can he defend his position? If his mountain is really made out of air - empty words and empty faith - then the religious person, in the scientists view, is in fact standing on nothing at all.
Another view, expressed by Freeman Dyson, and perhaps it is closer to the truth of the matter, is that the scientist and the religious person can both have their relative heights (and climb them), because the hill and the mountain are not on the same "map", they cannot (should not) be compared with each other. In this view, religion and science are two windows through which one can view the universe, only one can't look through both windows at the same time. There are those who confine their view to one window, and those who can switch effortlessly between the two, and such a person (as Dyson) may even condemn the words and works of such as the - can I say 'scientific fundamentalist'? - Dawkins, who attack religion with scientific tools, just as naturally and easily as he would attack religious fundamentalists who attack science with religious tools (e.g. the I.D. debate).
Perhaps this is oversimplification, but I think it's a more human view: we will never, as Dawkins would dream, be free of the "shackles" of religion, just as we will never be free of the "shackles" of art, or poetry. There are things in life that cannot be expressed by equations or theories, and though problematic, I think a religious bent is potential, or expressed, in all humans. The grand unification of science and religion, of emotions with reason, may never happen, but could we imagine the world any other way?
posted by John Doran-Armstrong at 7:34 PM
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