I’ve been reading that after the Big Bang, as life emerged, along with the amoebic beginnings of plants and animals, viruses began their evolutionary development. Then, much later on, as animals became domesticated by the first farmers, cows, pigs and such became hosts to booming viral colonies which had realized living animal cells were a great promoter of the viral life-style. (The animals, of course, being less than discriminating consumers of water, were readily available for viral habitation). Soon, these early viruses found their way to human hosts. The early farmers being unwary, often invited their domesticated animals into their abodes, which, it’s pretty obvious, wasn’t so good for mankind.
In fact, early epidemics of measles, plague, small pox, influenza and such wiped out large populations, the survivors having the genetic wherewithal to pass on immunity to their progeny. So, to jump ahead a few millennia, the early farmers became explorers, sailing the globe seeking peoples to conquer and exploit, a task made considerably easier as they passed on the aforementioned deadly diseases to folks without immunity.
This whole scenario rather points out the geographic advantages (animals to domesticate and such) of the earliest farmers, who, on the positive side passed on their immunities to most of us. Still, it would seem to be sensible to keep a reasonable distance from the family dog: he/she may not kill you but knowing what the animal is inclined to eat and drink, disease is in the offing. And, I don’t know about you but I’m getting a flu shot.
I’ve been reading about certain 19th Century philosophers, William James and John Dewey among them, who developed a philosophic procedure, pragmatism, to deal with the disconnect between the growing validity of scientific discoveries and long held religious conceptions many folks embraced at the time.
Pragmatism was, and still is I guess, about practicality. Acting on an idea, empirical or religious, will produce either a result that proves to be personally useful, one of practical applicability, or will prove itself useless and disposable. The ‘truthfulness’ of the idea is thus established.
I guess it’s pretty clear that being practical, you know, for the most part, is important in decision making regarding social functioning and earning a living. It seems to me important, though, to hang on to idealisms sometimes no matter how trivial or fantastical they may be. Imaginings need to be limitless and be free to reach beyond any notion of functionality.
James and Dewey realized we live in a steadily evolving, transformational world. We need to spend time seeking the unknown in all its potential absurdness. Who knows, such investigations may lead to useful insights that will counter unwanted future evils.
Studying, as I have been, the genetic bases for human behavior have me thinking about my own countenance and foibles. The probability I was, at least in part, born to be who I am is worth contemplating even as I recognize familial and cultural nurturing might have something to do with it. I think about my parents and grandparents, assess their personalities and find that some of us have anxious natures: even (or perhaps especially) when things are going smoothly there is a tendency to worry, to think of worst case scenarios, to dread what might happen next, even though, historically, the family has lived in amazingly good fortune.
So, if I assume, as I must, that I’ve inherited the Angst Gene there appears to be little I can do about it. And, since I haven’t suffered any health issues to this point like ulcers or need for psychological counseling, I guess I’ll just sit back, minimize my worrying as best I can in the realization this is simply who I am.
I’ve been thinking lately that language is a limiting and essentially inadequate means of describing experience. (As I think about this it occurs to me I’ve probably thought this very thing before; in fact, I doubt I’ve had a truly original thought anytime recently).
Anyway, language may be the only way of describing experience, but the descriptions rendered no matter the mastery one may have of the written word will fall well short of sufficiently describing the color and complexities of sensual experience.
Roland Barthes, The late French literary theorist, apparently said that man does not exist prior to language. If I might be so bold as to contradict such a noted scholar, my experience suggests to me such an idea is nonsense. Such a statement would have to mean my colorful and complex sensual experiences can only occur to my conscious self in the form of language; that until language supervenes upon my colorful and complex sensual experiences that my most wonderful remembrances don’t exist.
But, then, maybe my memory is going, I am aging after all; brain cells are being lost. Still, the visual imagery is there and doesn’t seem to require captions. I’m thinking language is over-rated. It simply is unable to account for the ineffable.
I’ve been reading that one of the primary drivers of religious fundamentalism is the sense of feeling under siege: the opposition, anyone holding a perspective contrary to the orthodox view, is identified not simply as apostate but as the enemy: immoral and evil.
With the firm belief God is on their side, fundamentalists embrace a world view that may include cosmic battle against the forces of evil. Fundamentalists convince themselves they are the chosen ones of God which sometimes leads to nationalistic fervor and an aggressive political stance and may even include the idea of replacing secular government and constitution with the tenets of their religious beliefs. They evangelize, convinced anyone not a believer is doomed to eternal Hell, which I suppose might be considered somewhat altruistic ( the evangelizing that is), if the rigidity of their demanded beliefs weren’t quite so outrageous and their methods of conversion less oppressive. These folks take their sacred writings literally, a gift from God, inerrant, any metaphorical allusions lost on their determined black/white perspective. So, the fundamentalists flex their muscles in tense confrontation, waiting for the sign from God signaling Armageddon.
Whew! This all might make exciting TV drama if it weren’t so real.
I’ve been reading about the most incredible difficulties those individuals of unorthodox thinking had around the turn of the 19th century (that is 1890’s to 1910’s or so). Public awareness of ideas questioning religious dogmas, racial inequities, subjugation of women and the like, often resulted in ostracization for any mindful individual who voiced such thoughts. Condemnation by a powerful fundamentalist clergy and demonizing by the mainstream press were powerful disincentives to speak out and those courageous enough to do so were often censored or ignored.
It must have been really hard to have a creative mind back then. New ideas were often seen as blasphemous or heretical by the majority; absolute truth ruled the day and made it easier, I suppose, for those who didn’t want to think too hard about the big questions.
These days it seems the majorities, consuming as they do their preferred sound bites, butt heads pretty much on a daily basis. Knowing their own truth leaves small room for considering the complexities, gray areas or subtleties of today’s issues, leaving free thinkers without much of a voice.
Some things never change, I guess, but resistance to free thought can be pretty disturbing sometimes.
I’ve been thinking lately about the implications spelled out in Dante’s Inferno and the pre-occupation of the middle-agers in one’s ultimate demise and the potential horrors of Hell.
In the book, Dante tells about being guided by the poet Virgil into the underworld, which is this huge pit containing the souls of all the people who have died and been found guilty of evil doings without having done anything, penitence-wise, that would have maybe gotten them to a more favorable eternal location. The first level of the underworld is for people who haven’t been baptized and, basically, all they have to do is wait around forever, but as Dante and Virgil go down deeper and deeper they discover each successive level holds souls who have been more evil than the last and are made to suffer worse conditions.
On level five heretics are encased in fiery graves and watched over by the Furies and Medusa. On level seven violent souls are submerged in a river of boiling blood and watched over by the Minotaur who, when they come up for air, shoves them back down. When the poets get to the very bottom they find Satan encased in ice and unable to move, so they climb up his huge body and escape from Hell.
It’s pretty clear Dante must have thought about Hell a lot. The amount of detail he goes in to is amazing. I wonder if he felt guilty about something or if he was just trying to warn people to walk the straight and narrow.
Anyway, I think people today think differently about what Hell will be like than they did in Dante’s day. It probably will have more to do with the loss of mobile communication devices and reality TV.
I’ve been reading that, in centuries past, some very bright and talented men held that within human nature an ‘inborn knowledge’ existed. But, what exactly this inner faculty was, wasn’t so easy to explain or necessarily easy for folks to recognize being housed as it was (and still is, I guess) within the subconscious. This innate psychic potential could, it was believed, foretell future events to those awakened to the ability, and numerous examples of just such occurrences were collected by the true believers, among whom was Johannes Kepler (the renowned 16th century mathematician) who also believed, along with numerous others, that each of us is under the influence of astrological movements that form our characters and behaviors and feed our psychic awareness.
So, before science gained the firm grasp on our sense of reality that it has today, explanations of why we feel, behave and act the way we do had firm bases in the occult. And, lest we dismiss these ideas too quickly we must admit that we do have déjà vu moments now and again and there are times when I’m hard pressed to explain the nature of my sudden psychic discomforts.
I have this nagging feeling I’ve traveled these same roads somehow, somewhere before.
I’ve been reading this very credible account of how the historical, earthly, human Jesus of Nazareth became, over time, other-worldly and part of the Godhead; in essence, something entirely other. Whereas the historical Jesus was a compassionate advocate for the down-trodden masses, he was nevertheless put to death for what was seen as political ambitions. There were those not content to let the man they perceived as messiah, savior of the world to pass into oblivion before his promised kingdom of God on earth was established. A pretty good number of his most ardent followers swore on their very lives that the body in the tomb was re-animated, became once again a flesh and blood individual. The historical Jesus was thus re conceived as God Incarnate and the remarkable, admirable man, a role-model for all, was lost for all time.
The logical thinkers of the time found all of this pretty hard to believe; they were thinking, I guess, some sort of mass hypnosis or hysteria must have brought about the idea of a resurrected person who was, in addition, imagined to have been virgin born. But, logical progression isn’t necessarily the final determinant of what may or may not actually be the case; an open-mind must allow for the inconceivable, that unexplainable things occur all the time. (Just consider political occurrences these days).
Anyway, it appears that, when it comes down to deriving an honest perspective of the existence and workings of the universe the Christian believer will rely on his truth of God’s hand in it all, while the curious unbeliever will look toward continued scientific research to find explanations of why things are as they are while acknowledging the many mysteries of existence.
Seems pretty irreconcilable; truth eludes us; we all must just keep thinking, I guess.
My companion and I have recently completed a three week trip through southern Europe. One might call what we did a vacation, I suppose, but traveling the way we do it involves coordinating train schedules, locating pre-arranged housing, meeting voucher deadlines, acquiring foodstuffs that are compatible with cooking facilities, all requiring miles traveled on foot, all of which is hard work resulting in thorough and complete exhaustion at the end of most days. The rewards, though, are rich in personal encounters and experiences, and, in our opinion, well worth the effort.
Upon completion of such an adventure we are ultimately required by friends, relatives and acquaintances to offer a narrative. The shared experiences, however, don’t translate to a common story, which, I suppose, one could attribute to differing focuses of attention and/or memory lapse, but, it seems to me, the remembered experiences are so varied that one can only assume the unique worlds in which we each exist defy a common reality. We must, I guess, all get along day to day unaware, most of the time that the person next to us is a truly alien presence.