Thursday, May 31, 2007
On Self-Deceit
Is it better to force yourself to believe a lie that you know to be untrue in order to regain your sanity, or is it better to retain the truth?
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Thoughts on Music
Why do we listen to it?
Music is simply organized, structured vibrations. Do we gain pleasure from it? Or perhaps we are all too ADD that we need music to distract a portion of our mind so that we can concentrate on what little remains, and focus with it?
Why do we derive pleasure from listening to music? Why is it soothing at times, energizing at others, and inspiring at the best of times?
Perhaps it regulates electrical impulses in the mind that respond to the beat of the music? What then of pieces that throw the beat off? Maybe the irregularity, and the imbalance in such music causes us to twist and turn--to dance, in other words. Of course, throwing the beat isn't technically irregularity and imbalance; it's simply doubling the speed of the beat.
Of course, if it was all about beats, melody and harmony would be irrelevant, and we know that isn't the case. In some music, anyways.
What is the power in harmony? How the selection of certain notes causes overtones to be constructively strengthened in various patterns, causing us delight? Why do certain melodies have that addictive property in which we can't get them out of our heads?
I'd love to study the Physics of music.
"When you catch a glimpse of the goodness of God, you will have a tongue of wisdom. You will have words to speak in season to those that are weary. You may never have learned the different languages of this earth, but God will teach you the language of Heaven." (Ellen White)
Music is simply organized, structured vibrations. Do we gain pleasure from it? Or perhaps we are all too ADD that we need music to distract a portion of our mind so that we can concentrate on what little remains, and focus with it?
Why do we derive pleasure from listening to music? Why is it soothing at times, energizing at others, and inspiring at the best of times?
Perhaps it regulates electrical impulses in the mind that respond to the beat of the music? What then of pieces that throw the beat off? Maybe the irregularity, and the imbalance in such music causes us to twist and turn--to dance, in other words. Of course, throwing the beat isn't technically irregularity and imbalance; it's simply doubling the speed of the beat.
Of course, if it was all about beats, melody and harmony would be irrelevant, and we know that isn't the case. In some music, anyways.
What is the power in harmony? How the selection of certain notes causes overtones to be constructively strengthened in various patterns, causing us delight? Why do certain melodies have that addictive property in which we can't get them out of our heads?
I'd love to study the Physics of music.
"When you catch a glimpse of the goodness of God, you will have a tongue of wisdom. You will have words to speak in season to those that are weary. You may never have learned the different languages of this earth, but God will teach you the language of Heaven." (Ellen White)
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Aggressive Pedestrianism
A friend today walked up to me and said, "I almost hit you yesterday."
And the first thing I thought was, "Why do people keep telling me that?"
My theory of aggressive pedestrianism goes like this: Step in front of the car, and the car will stop. I'm not being risky or foolish by doing this--I grew up in a city. If you wanted to cross a street, and there were no stoplights around, that's how you did it. Granted, it's probably unneccessary in College Place, but old habits die hard.
Speaking of crossing the street, I saw a "moderately-framed" person running across the street the other day--basically, the same way I always cross College Avenue--and it struck me just how dumb he looked. The truest way of gaining fashion sense is to be able to see yourself through someone else's eyes.
I'd like to present myself as proof that my theory works. I've been hit by motorized vehicles 4 or 5 times, depending on whether the fifth one counts--and I haven't been killed yet. Therefore, stepping in front of a car will get it to stop.
"Those who fail to learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them." (Anonymous)
And the first thing I thought was, "Why do people keep telling me that?"
My theory of aggressive pedestrianism goes like this: Step in front of the car, and the car will stop. I'm not being risky or foolish by doing this--I grew up in a city. If you wanted to cross a street, and there were no stoplights around, that's how you did it. Granted, it's probably unneccessary in College Place, but old habits die hard.
Speaking of crossing the street, I saw a "moderately-framed" person running across the street the other day--basically, the same way I always cross College Avenue--and it struck me just how dumb he looked. The truest way of gaining fashion sense is to be able to see yourself through someone else's eyes.
I'd like to present myself as proof that my theory works. I've been hit by motorized vehicles 4 or 5 times, depending on whether the fifth one counts--and I haven't been killed yet. Therefore, stepping in front of a car will get it to stop.
"Those who fail to learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them." (Anonymous)
Monday, May 21, 2007
Sands of Time
Ever notice what time does to certainty? That is, that how certain you are of something negatively correlates to how long ago you saw/learned it?
My question is, why should this be the case?
Take, for instance, a miracle that happened when I was little. I was doing stupid things (as usual), while waiting for my Mom to drive me to the public swimming pool. Specifically, I was taking the bag that contained my towel and a change of clothes, and was throwing it in the air and trying to catch it. On one throw, it didn't quite go perfectly vertical, and so it ended up on top of our neighbour's garage.
This was a disaster to me, because if Mom found out about it, she'd be ticked, and I'd have to go face the neighbour. So the first thing I did was get a lawn chair, and attempt to reach it. Being 12, that didn't come close to working. So I stuck another lawn chair on top, a pail on top of that, instructed my brother to hold it still, and then grabbed a broom and tried to swipe it. I was closer, but still couldn't get closer.
At this point, I realized that all I could do could not save me. So, I prayed. As soon as I finished praying, the wind picked up, and blew the bag into the gutter, where I was able to reach it with my hand. Furthermore, we were able to put back the chairs and broom before my Mom came outside.
Now, when it first happened to me, I was certain that this was an answer to prayer. How could it be otherwise? The answer came directly after I finished praying. But as time passed, my certainty of God faded. What if the wind had been gusting, and I just didn't notice? It got to the point where I couldn't be certain that God had anything to do with the story at all.
Why is that? If I am certain of something once, why shouldn't I be certain of what my senses had told me at a later point in time? Take my grandma's hair--it's white. Am I certain of this? It's been 5 months since I've last seen her... and of course I'm certain. Why? Because it makes sense.
Imagine a brick, floating in mid-air. You walk up to it, and examine it carefully, checking for strings, magnetic devices, and so forth, until you're completely certain that the brick actually is defying the laws of gravity. Just wait even 7 days, and see if you still think the brick was actually defying the laws of gravity. Do we not have a tendency of fitting what our senses perceive to what we believe is true, as opposed to vice versa? Find me one true scientist who goes completely by observation, experiment, conclusion.
Satan does an awful good job of confusing us, doesn't he?
"Seeing is believing." (Anonymous)
My question is, why should this be the case?
Take, for instance, a miracle that happened when I was little. I was doing stupid things (as usual), while waiting for my Mom to drive me to the public swimming pool. Specifically, I was taking the bag that contained my towel and a change of clothes, and was throwing it in the air and trying to catch it. On one throw, it didn't quite go perfectly vertical, and so it ended up on top of our neighbour's garage.
This was a disaster to me, because if Mom found out about it, she'd be ticked, and I'd have to go face the neighbour. So the first thing I did was get a lawn chair, and attempt to reach it. Being 12, that didn't come close to working. So I stuck another lawn chair on top, a pail on top of that, instructed my brother to hold it still, and then grabbed a broom and tried to swipe it. I was closer, but still couldn't get closer.
At this point, I realized that all I could do could not save me. So, I prayed. As soon as I finished praying, the wind picked up, and blew the bag into the gutter, where I was able to reach it with my hand. Furthermore, we were able to put back the chairs and broom before my Mom came outside.
Now, when it first happened to me, I was certain that this was an answer to prayer. How could it be otherwise? The answer came directly after I finished praying. But as time passed, my certainty of God faded. What if the wind had been gusting, and I just didn't notice? It got to the point where I couldn't be certain that God had anything to do with the story at all.
Why is that? If I am certain of something once, why shouldn't I be certain of what my senses had told me at a later point in time? Take my grandma's hair--it's white. Am I certain of this? It's been 5 months since I've last seen her... and of course I'm certain. Why? Because it makes sense.
Imagine a brick, floating in mid-air. You walk up to it, and examine it carefully, checking for strings, magnetic devices, and so forth, until you're completely certain that the brick actually is defying the laws of gravity. Just wait even 7 days, and see if you still think the brick was actually defying the laws of gravity. Do we not have a tendency of fitting what our senses perceive to what we believe is true, as opposed to vice versa? Find me one true scientist who goes completely by observation, experiment, conclusion.
Satan does an awful good job of confusing us, doesn't he?
"Seeing is believing." (Anonymous)
Friday, May 18, 2007
The Tootbird
The "Tootbird" (mammalia fabaceae) is fluffy-looking animal that floats along with the wind in its travels. It was recently discovered by the writer of this blog, who unfortunately didn't have a camera with him, so he provided this rough sketch instead.The name "Tootbird" is actually a misnomer, as it is not a bird, but a mammal. It raises itself up by means of its balloon-like intestinal system, which is home to a unique species of bacterium. This bacterium produces methane at a rate 10x faster than that of the cow's intestinal bacteria. When the intestines are filled with methane, they give the tootbird a bloated look, and eventually the creature acts as a living balloon and floats away. The tootbird can control how its altitude by expelling varied amounts of gas, depending on how low it wants to go.
The tootbird feeds by descending onto a bean field, and settling under a plant. It then extends its mouth and tongue and eats all the beans within reach. When it has finished, it waits for the methane to build up, and then elevates a little ways before finding another untouched area of the field. Soybean farmers dislike the creature, and consider it a pest.
The female tootbird is attracted to loud noises produced by the male members of that species expelling gas. During mating season, males get together in groups and have competitions, in which the best female chooses the male capable of reaching the highest number of decibles. Then, in mid-air, they get together and mate by expelling gas in synch with each other.
It is theorized that the tootbird is able to control the direction in which it travels, due to it's multiple anuses on each side of its body. This has not yet been proven, but awaits further research.
"Scientific progress goes boink?" (Calvin & Hobbes)
Thursday, May 17, 2007
The Sleepless Journal
From about two weeks ago:
4:00am: Jumped out of bed, completely randomly. (My roommate can attest to this.)
8:55am: Crawled out of bed.
9:05am: Was last person in to Music History, which had already started.
10:05am: Got breakfast, was 5 minutes late to work.
Noon: Got a shower after Theory II. Found out my Counterpoint homework was late, and thereby worth nothing, because it was due two hours before class, for some odd reason.
2:00pm: Got a free cake before Counterpoint. Showed up 4 minutes late. The professor noticed. She was ticked off for most of the class.
3:00pm: Cancelled oboe practice with my accompanist.
3:20pm: Tried to register for next year, but advisor hadn't cleared me yet. Started this journal.
3:25pm: Advisor wasn't there when phoned. Went to bank.
3:35pm: Had only $175 available to pay tuition, much less than hoped for.
3:45pm: Saw advisor. Cleared to register. 15 minutes before closure of office.
3:50pm: Ran to accounting office. Paid $175US, $200CDN towards tuition; basically nothing.
3:55pm: Ran to dorm room; registered for Autumn. Ran to the records office.
4:00pm: Found out office closes at 5-6, not 4pm. Got the letter from records I needed to apply for a job; the letter that required me to register for next year's classes first. (Hence, the running around like a cat/dog chasing its tail.)
4:10pm: Went back to room. Finished registering for next year. Saw that Halladay already gave up one run against Texas, in the first inning.
5:00pm: Went to work.
6:10pm: Got dinner, went to Bible study (40 minutes late).
6:30pm: Finished Bible study. Halladay pitches a CG, 1ER 5H 8K game. Excellent... Begin working on eating dinner.
7:00pm: Finished eating dinner. Alright, there's a lot left. I'll get to it when I return from the music building this evening. Whenever that is.
Shortly after 7pm: Started up laundry. Post office is closed, roommate says. Will mail job application tomorrow?
Sometime later: Tried to read some of the Educational Psychology textbook. Probably not very much--10 pages. Surfed web.
10:00pm: Folded laundry.
10:30pm: Went to the music library to study.
11:30pm: Music building empties. (That is, besides me.)
Midnight: Talk on MSN.
Somewhere between 4am and 5am: Finished the assigned Educational Psychology reading.
Somewhere between 6am and 6:45am: Listened to lots of music (studying for the music history test) while talking on MSN.
7:10am: Got breakfast. Back to room 10 minutes later, brushed teeth, ate it.
7:30am: Devotions. Or tried to, anyways. May have burned my hands/hair/face on the desk lamp while using it as a radiator. I really, really want to go to sleep.
8:30am: Showered. Took longer than usual. I looked weighty.
9:00am: Went to class. I think I did well on the Music History listening test.
10:15am: Went to oboe lesson 15 minutes late, straight from the exam. Worked on The Planets, which is for a concert a week from now, and then lesson cut short and I left. Excellent.
11:00am: Chapel. Was hilarious, from what I hear. I was there: I should know. I just don't. Voted yes on the referendum to change the student association's name. Dr. Scott played prelude.
1:30pm: Fell asleep for "a while" in Educational Psych.
2:30pm: Finally relented and bought a Snickers bar. I really didn't want to resort to needing caffeine to stay awake, but I suppose I can make a small concession.
2:45pm: I went to Music Theory 2. First one there. Played a random hymn out of the hymnal, and we ended up getting tested on it that very class period. Professor was annoyed that of the 695 hymns in the hymnal, I had randomly guessed the hymn.
4:00pm: Piano Performance class. Everyone is having an off day.
5:15pm: Band. I can barely get air down that reed. I should sleep.
6:40pm: Raptors win! Raptors win! Raptors win!
7:40pm: Went to sleep. Alarm set for 4am.
7:20am: I wake up. Since this is no longer a "sleepless" journal, I'm ending.
"To die, to sleep--no more; and by a sleep we say end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks the flesh is heir to--'tis a consummation devoutly to be wished." (Hamlet, from Shakespeare's Hamlet)
4:00am: Jumped out of bed, completely randomly. (My roommate can attest to this.)
8:55am: Crawled out of bed.
9:05am: Was last person in to Music History, which had already started.
10:05am: Got breakfast, was 5 minutes late to work.
Noon: Got a shower after Theory II. Found out my Counterpoint homework was late, and thereby worth nothing, because it was due two hours before class, for some odd reason.
2:00pm: Got a free cake before Counterpoint. Showed up 4 minutes late. The professor noticed. She was ticked off for most of the class.
3:00pm: Cancelled oboe practice with my accompanist.
3:20pm: Tried to register for next year, but advisor hadn't cleared me yet. Started this journal.
3:25pm: Advisor wasn't there when phoned. Went to bank.
3:35pm: Had only $175 available to pay tuition, much less than hoped for.
3:45pm: Saw advisor. Cleared to register. 15 minutes before closure of office.
3:50pm: Ran to accounting office. Paid $175US, $200CDN towards tuition; basically nothing.
3:55pm: Ran to dorm room; registered for Autumn. Ran to the records office.
4:00pm: Found out office closes at 5-6, not 4pm. Got the letter from records I needed to apply for a job; the letter that required me to register for next year's classes first. (Hence, the running around like a cat/dog chasing its tail.)
4:10pm: Went back to room. Finished registering for next year. Saw that Halladay already gave up one run against Texas, in the first inning.
5:00pm: Went to work.
6:10pm: Got dinner, went to Bible study (40 minutes late).
6:30pm: Finished Bible study. Halladay pitches a CG, 1ER 5H 8K game. Excellent... Begin working on eating dinner.
7:00pm: Finished eating dinner. Alright, there's a lot left. I'll get to it when I return from the music building this evening. Whenever that is.
Shortly after 7pm: Started up laundry. Post office is closed, roommate says. Will mail job application tomorrow?
Sometime later: Tried to read some of the Educational Psychology textbook. Probably not very much--10 pages. Surfed web.
10:00pm: Folded laundry.
10:30pm: Went to the music library to study.
11:30pm: Music building empties. (That is, besides me.)
Midnight: Talk on MSN.
Somewhere between 4am and 5am: Finished the assigned Educational Psychology reading.
Somewhere between 6am and 6:45am: Listened to lots of music (studying for the music history test) while talking on MSN.
7:10am: Got breakfast. Back to room 10 minutes later, brushed teeth, ate it.
7:30am: Devotions. Or tried to, anyways. May have burned my hands/hair/face on the desk lamp while using it as a radiator. I really, really want to go to sleep.
8:30am: Showered. Took longer than usual. I looked weighty.
9:00am: Went to class. I think I did well on the Music History listening test.
10:15am: Went to oboe lesson 15 minutes late, straight from the exam. Worked on The Planets, which is for a concert a week from now, and then lesson cut short and I left. Excellent.
11:00am: Chapel. Was hilarious, from what I hear. I was there: I should know. I just don't. Voted yes on the referendum to change the student association's name. Dr. Scott played prelude.
1:30pm: Fell asleep for "a while" in Educational Psych.
2:30pm: Finally relented and bought a Snickers bar. I really didn't want to resort to needing caffeine to stay awake, but I suppose I can make a small concession.
2:45pm: I went to Music Theory 2. First one there. Played a random hymn out of the hymnal, and we ended up getting tested on it that very class period. Professor was annoyed that of the 695 hymns in the hymnal, I had randomly guessed the hymn.
4:00pm: Piano Performance class. Everyone is having an off day.
5:15pm: Band. I can barely get air down that reed. I should sleep.
6:40pm: Raptors win! Raptors win! Raptors win!
7:40pm: Went to sleep. Alarm set for 4am.
7:20am: I wake up. Since this is no longer a "sleepless" journal, I'm ending.
"To die, to sleep--no more; and by a sleep we say end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks the flesh is heir to--'tis a consummation devoutly to be wished." (Hamlet, from Shakespeare's Hamlet)
Monday, May 14, 2007
A Tale from the Garden of Eden
First off, to the person who inspired this story, and therefore deserves credit, I'm sorry, but this story was just so good that I had to share it (though you may disagree).
Adam was pruning a vine in the Garden of Eden one day when Eve ran up to him with an armful of apples.
"Look at this wonderful new fruit I've found! It's so delicious!"
"But Eve..." Adam replied hesitantly. "Don't you know what fruit that is?"
"Of course not. You're the one who named them all. What is this?"
Adam looked conflicted as a battle raged in his mind. Finally, he reached out and grabbed an apple, and just as he was about to take a bite, Eve interjected:
"Just kidding! April Fools!"
Adam dropped the apple in pure astonishment.
Eve didn't know how to respond to the silence, so she rambled on. "Of course I know which tree is the tree of good and evil. I'm not that stupid."
"Eve..." Adam groaned. "I think we need to have a talk."
"Whatever for? Is it your heart again?"
"I've told you so many times Eve, I don't like to be scared like that. You keep giving me heart attacks."
"So? You don't like it when your heart stops beating? It's not like it can kill you or anything."
"But that's not the point. It's something that I despise. And you... you... just live to watch me squirm."
"Oh, my poor Adam."
"No! I wouldn't need to be pitied if you weren't around!"
Eve gasped.
"That's right. I just don't think you're the woman for me. I want a divorce."
Adam stormed off, and Eve collapsed in a flurry of sobs.
"Oh, what have I done? My love is lost to me... forever! What is there left to me... but..." Eve picked up an apple, and ate it. "May this prove me to be your faithful lover for all eternity." Then she died.
Meanwhile, Adam regretted having exploded at Eve earlier, and returned to apologize... only to find a dead wife and an apple core. "Oh, Eve!" Stricken with the conflicting emotions of guilt, love, and desperation, Adam picked up one of the apples, and ate it... and so collapsed with grief over her body. As he breathed his last, he went to sleep with pleasant thoughts of Eve.
"Excessive pain, like excessive joy, is a violent thing which is of short duration." (Victor Hugo)
* * *
Adam was pruning a vine in the Garden of Eden one day when Eve ran up to him with an armful of apples.
"Look at this wonderful new fruit I've found! It's so delicious!"
"But Eve..." Adam replied hesitantly. "Don't you know what fruit that is?"
"Of course not. You're the one who named them all. What is this?"
Adam looked conflicted as a battle raged in his mind. Finally, he reached out and grabbed an apple, and just as he was about to take a bite, Eve interjected:
"Just kidding! April Fools!"
Adam dropped the apple in pure astonishment.
Eve didn't know how to respond to the silence, so she rambled on. "Of course I know which tree is the tree of good and evil. I'm not that stupid."
"Eve..." Adam groaned. "I think we need to have a talk."
"Whatever for? Is it your heart again?"
"I've told you so many times Eve, I don't like to be scared like that. You keep giving me heart attacks."
"So? You don't like it when your heart stops beating? It's not like it can kill you or anything."
"But that's not the point. It's something that I despise. And you... you... just live to watch me squirm."
"Oh, my poor Adam."
"No! I wouldn't need to be pitied if you weren't around!"
Eve gasped.
"That's right. I just don't think you're the woman for me. I want a divorce."
Adam stormed off, and Eve collapsed in a flurry of sobs.
"Oh, what have I done? My love is lost to me... forever! What is there left to me... but..." Eve picked up an apple, and ate it. "May this prove me to be your faithful lover for all eternity." Then she died.
Meanwhile, Adam regretted having exploded at Eve earlier, and returned to apologize... only to find a dead wife and an apple core. "Oh, Eve!" Stricken with the conflicting emotions of guilt, love, and desperation, Adam picked up one of the apples, and ate it... and so collapsed with grief over her body. As he breathed his last, he went to sleep with pleasant thoughts of Eve.
"Excessive pain, like excessive joy, is a violent thing which is of short duration." (Victor Hugo)
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Observations of My Classroom
2:00pm, May 3, 2007
2 students are on MySpace.
1 student is on a laptop, probably doing the above, but I can't see her screen.
1 student is looking on her screen, laughing.
2 girls are checking their cell phones.
1 guy is browsing an unknown web site (screen too far away).
1 girl has her hand on her head, completely ignoring her surroundings.
2 girls are actually taking notes.
1 girl is having a conversation with the teacher, who is in the middle of his lecture.
I am writing down these observations.
This is all occurring in an education class; specifically, where we are applying the principles of psychology to help us become effective teachers. Oh, the irony. It's amazing what you can learn by simply watching.
"By beholding, we become changed."
P.S. For those who read the last post, the brownie is sitting wrapped in a tissue on the desk in front of me; and the girl who gave it to me is the one conversing with the instructor.
2 students are on MySpace.
1 student is on a laptop, probably doing the above, but I can't see her screen.
1 student is looking on her screen, laughing.
2 girls are checking their cell phones.
1 guy is browsing an unknown web site (screen too far away).
1 girl has her hand on her head, completely ignoring her surroundings.
2 girls are actually taking notes.
1 girl is having a conversation with the teacher, who is in the middle of his lecture.
I am writing down these observations.
This is all occurring in an education class; specifically, where we are applying the principles of psychology to help us become effective teachers. Oh, the irony. It's amazing what you can learn by simply watching.
"By beholding, we become changed."
P.S. For those who read the last post, the brownie is sitting wrapped in a tissue on the desk in front of me; and the girl who gave it to me is the one conversing with the instructor.
Monday, May 7, 2007
Earning Brownie Points
In class last Thursday, a friend of mind offered me a brownie. I had just eaten, so I wrapped up the brownie in some tissue and then saved it for later. On the way out of class, I overheard her mention "blue pee" to another classmate, with the words "methylene blue" added somewhere in there, and I knew something was up.
Had I eaten the brownie immediately, I'd have probably fallen for one of the most well-known Chemistry practical jokes. It wasn't that I was naive--rather, I wasn't expecting her to be able to get her hands on the stuff.
So I was confronted with a dilemma: what to do with the brownie? I offered it to some friends, though I told them upfront what would happen so that they would still be my friends later. Oddly enough, all of them declined the brownie. So I brought it to my room, and left it on the counter to stare at for a while.
It was the strangest thing trying to force myself to eat it. I knew that methylene blue was harmless, but... it wasn't meant to be ingested either. It took a day and a half before I finally managed the guts to eat it.
That whole thing was probably related to the reflex manoeuver of not being able to consciously harm yourself. Try sticking your hand in a hot fire. You won't be able to do it. It's not as if your body feels the heat, so the self-protection reflex must reside completely in the brain. The brain recognizes a danger, and then freezes the body. Which is good, really.
I probably should have listened to the reflex, in retrospect. The brownie tasted like detergent. It's not that she was a bad cook; but the reason that it's hidden in brownies is to mask the taste, which really isn't all that good. Brushing my teeth couldn't get rid of the taste. Then, two days later, I fell ill; though it would be difficult to blame that on the brownie. I'm just noticing this downward spiral ever since I've eaten that brownie. I wonder what else she put in there...
Sunday, May 6, 2007
A Lesson In Politics
A few years ago, Pope John Paul II said the following:
"God could have used evolution to create the Earth."
At first, it appears that the pope has just gone ahead and condoned evolution, an incredible admission from a church that does not believe in forms of birth control beyond abstinence and rhythm, that does not condone abortion, that does not allow priests to marry, and basically represents tradition in all its glory. Any knowledgeable person would expect the Catholic church to maintain its anti-evolution stance. Instead, the Pope throws out this bone to all the evolutionists, reconciling itself with science after the 150-year split.
But look at the sentence again. "God could have used evolution to create the Earth." That sentence, as it stands, is something even I can agree with. God certainly could have used evolution to create the planet. He also could have created life by causing a massive solar flare to solidify. He could have had two asteroids collide in space, and the heat from the explosion could have warmed the first Adam to life.
Such it is with politics: the art of appearing to support every side of every argument at the same time. I commend the pope for showing us all how this is done.
"A thing either is what it appears to be; or it is not, but yet appears to be; or it is, but does not appear to be; or it is not, and does not appear to be." (Epictetus)
"God could have used evolution to create the Earth."
At first, it appears that the pope has just gone ahead and condoned evolution, an incredible admission from a church that does not believe in forms of birth control beyond abstinence and rhythm, that does not condone abortion, that does not allow priests to marry, and basically represents tradition in all its glory. Any knowledgeable person would expect the Catholic church to maintain its anti-evolution stance. Instead, the Pope throws out this bone to all the evolutionists, reconciling itself with science after the 150-year split.
But look at the sentence again. "God could have used evolution to create the Earth." That sentence, as it stands, is something even I can agree with. God certainly could have used evolution to create the planet. He also could have created life by causing a massive solar flare to solidify. He could have had two asteroids collide in space, and the heat from the explosion could have warmed the first Adam to life.
Such it is with politics: the art of appearing to support every side of every argument at the same time. I commend the pope for showing us all how this is done.
"A thing either is what it appears to be; or it is not, but yet appears to be; or it is, but does not appear to be; or it is not, and does not appear to be." (Epictetus)
Friday, May 4, 2007
Lens Theory
Ever take a picture while lying down on some grass? If you have, then you'll know one thing: a camera can only focus on one depth at a time.
A camera consists of two lenses, which, depending on how far apart they are, focus on a certain depth in the field of perception. Certain lenses are good for seeing distant objects; others are good for close-ups.
The same principle works for glasses. Some glasses enable near-sighted people to see distant objects. Others allow far-sighted people to see nearby objects. Each lens is unique and allows various objects to become clear.
I think that people are like lenses. Each of us has been equipped by our experiences to see certain things more clearly than others. But at the same time, no one lens is capable of focusing on everything.
Imagine two people sitting in a field. One is badly near-sighted, the other badly far-sighted, but neither knows this--all that is known to each is that they have less-than-perfect vision. Now they spot a red object in the field, at mid-range. One thinks they can make out the shape of a Cardinal; the other sees the outline of a Rose. Who is correct?
In a world where we are only capable of seeing at the one depth our experience has equipped us to see, the only way we can put together a truly accurate vision of our surroundings is to ask other people what they see; and then assimilate the information and try to figure it out.
Given all this, then we have to take what we can see for ourselves with a grain of salt. How can we know what in our field of vision is accurate? Granted, we usually have a pretty good idea what is in focus and what is not; but focus is a narrow little bugger--anything outside of the exact millimeter of focus will be slightly blurred. We can, in nearly all situations, find someone who can see more clearly.
At the same time, we have been blessed to see something in perfect focus--and it's our responsibility to share our insights with the world. By remaining silent about what we see, we may deprive someone the ability of seeing the world a little more clearly.
So the lens theory teaches us two things. Share what you see of the world, even when you're not sure it's correct; and listen and respect what other people see in the world on the same level as you respect your own insights.
Don't be judgmental of others--who is to say whether you are correct? And even if you are right, you may very well have made the same mistake if you were wearing that person's glasses.
Get out there, meet others, and always take time to stop and think. Could that rose really be a bird?
"He and we were a party of men walking together, seeing, hearing, feeling, understanding the same world; and in two minutes, with a sudden snap, one of us would be gone – one mind less, one world less." (George Orwell)
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
A Ransom for Lord Stanley?
In the news this morning was a story that the Stanley Cup was visiting Afghanistan to cheer up the morale of the Canadian troops. Now, really, a fine idea and all, doing a service to those who are doing a service for us (are they really?), but didn't the thought occur to anyone that this visit would put the troops at risk?
After all, what better target could there be for a terrorist attack than Lord Stanley's Cup?
Just think of it now. How much would the NHL pay as ransom to the Taliban to get back the silver mug? The Canadian government? Better yet, how much could they get on the black market for that thing? Surely, some Russian billionaire would purchase it just to be able to etch his name onto it. Perhaps he'd sell rights to disgruntled hockey players unwilling to go through 2 months of body-bruising to be able to hoist the trophy?
On the flip side, imagine if the Stanley Cup was held hostage--and then decapitated because Harper "doesn't negotiate with terrorists?" Al Qaeda could make a video and send it to Al Jazeera of the Stanley Cup, wearing an explosives vest, and then getting blown to dust. That would do two things, anyways.
You would have one million Canadians instantly sign up for the military to volunteer in Afghanistan. Osama would be found within months, if not weeks. Never tick off a Canadian. Wilhelm and Adolph know what I'm talking about.
Then, Afghanistan would be financially set for life, by operating the ground of Stanley's death as a tourist attraction. Minor league hockey players could pay to fly over and lick the dust, out of hopes of ingesting one grain of silver as a good luck charm for their future career. Perhaps they could bottle the sand and sell it to the 30,000,000 or some odd Canadians that might fall for something like that. They could even ground up some extra silver, but the sparkle in the sand won't likely be necessary--it's the ground where the Cup died, surely that in itself makes it sacred, right?
Ah... hockey. Where would the world be without you?
"Sir, three years ago before I joined the army, I never thought I'd say 'That damn marijuana.'" (Canadian Soldier in Afghanistan, upon encountering a 10-foot tall Marijuana forest filled with insurgents. They tried burning it down, but all the soldiers kept getting high.)
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