September 15, 2010
“Entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem.” —Occam
In a simple but clear post PZ Myers at Pharyngula says we ought to apply Occam’s razor to the wild mat of hairy right-wing speculation as to who and what President Obama is. All you need to know about him is as obvious as the public record, birthers and Newt Gingrich be damned (‘twould be fitting).
“Please, fellow godless folk, stop trying to claim Obama as one of us. He isn’t. He goes to church sometimes, he has a religious history, he’s happy to use Christian metaphors, he hasn’t claimed to be so much as an agnostic. He’s a liberal Christian who is not obsessed with religion. Take his words at face value; I find it annoying when people look for signs that he’s a hidden member of our little clan. It is so conspiracy-theory,” says Myers.
This is, of course, good advice but won’t cut any ice with fringe de-mentalists who believe anything their fearful minds and hearts can conjure up. If they can believe in talking snakes they can believe that a half-white half-black person is certainly all black (just look at him, for god’s sake —that’s no Boehner tan) or that he’s a closet Muslim. These people have even left their own god in the dust –I mean the one who not only said love your neighbor as yourself, but love your enemy as well. And who also said (regardless of the catechism of Wall Street) that a rich man would have one helluva time squeezing through a needle’s eye to reach god’s special realm of non-material bliss.
We should not hope for miracles from the Glenn Beck contingent of homo sapiens. For them the ‘sapien’ part is questionable at best.
September 12, 2010
We do certain things over and over again as if we have not understood history. As if we’ve been programmed to ignore it. We hate, we war, we lie, we steal, we cheat. But not all programming is bad (we should be grateful life is not TV). We also love and give. Often ignoring the instinct of cut-throat individualism, we take care of each other, we share the wealth, we don’t kick a man or woman who is down. In any case, we operate by certain codes, some good some bad, some as mysterious as existence itself.
I was thinking something like this when I saw a flock of geese heading south last fall —and now it’s the season of moving geese again. Unfortunately (at least for summer-loving me) it’s one of a pair of geese migrations that signals cold days and colder nights ahead.
But that movement of geese across an early sky reminded me how locked we all are into the routines of the earth, how essential the earth’s systems are to our survival, and how so many of us make our way through life without fully comprehending the significance of our dependence upon this earth and each other. These thoughts jump-started the following poem:
This morning when the sky’s red skin is
drawn across a beginning and the grass
is taut with frost and the clarity
of the edge of things recalls
the precision of an engraver’s point
an irregular V of geese passes left to right
like beads of an animated rosary
each a honking Hail Mary
a striving prayer
an individual articulating dot
an I-am of we-are
we are moving south
we are honking like hell
we are drifting up and down
in a wandering V together
to reach some destination
by a means coded in our cells
by a wisdom unknown
by an accident or lovely intention
on a whim or a want
on an updraft or drawn down
by a turn in the weather
we have been invited and
we are moving south implacably
as life moves
Sometimes we soar, sometimes we’re drawn down by the weather. These days it seems we’re drawn down by the weather: ideological storms, religious whirlwinds, economic gales. “These are the times that try man’s souls,” pamphleteer, Thomas Paine, wrote of an earlier American bad time.
Bad times do try our souls; they test us. But as humans we’re not confined to instinctive or historical barriers. We don’t have to be knee-jerk book-burners, or avaricious TV or radio demagogues, or money-grubbing personality-cult former governors, or religious fanatics, or hyper-tanned just-say-no politicians, or self-interested race-baiting candidates— we can choose to dispassionately articulate our differences and reason our way out of crisis.
This is not to say the irrationality of religion or (often) of politics, is not a tough nut to crack; but reason is the only place to start, otherwise we risk becoming as much a fanatic as those we find contemptible.
We can reason and choose, or we can be geese, or sheep —or wolves.
September 5, 2010
An argument against intelligent design: