Batter My Heart

“Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town to another due,
Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv’d, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov’d fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.” - - John Donne

This poem by John Donne is the text of a powerful aria of John Adams’ new opera, Doctor Atomic. The emotional power of these words especially set to Adams’ music is palpable.



Like Donne’s “Death Be Not Proud” this poem strikes chords in me that are deeply rooted in my Christian upbringing. Both evoke images of a victorious God. In “Death Be Not Proud” it is victory over death through an eternal afterlife; in “Batter My Heart” it is victory over the petitioner by the God he petitions.

In my Christian years I took in words like these aspiring to be part of the noble fight, part of the glorious striving. They inspired me to announce to a Christian friend and mentor once that I was going to “do great things.” What I had in mind was that wherever God took me he would use me and whatever the outcome, even if trivial in the eyes of the world, would be “great” if done for His cause, in His battle and under His control.

These days, I still believe great things can be done and that I can be instrumental in those events. I still want to be part of something bigger than myself. But I no longer believe the god I once imagined and was taught to believe in is anywhere near as big as or as inspiring as the universe in all of its wonder and complexities. In fact, I believe my ignorance of the scope and context of our existence is what allowed me to believe in a god who has turned out, in comparison, to be so limited.

Now, when I hear these words sung in John Adams’ music, I remember and understand the zealous desire to be taken captive and transformed, to be wholly enthralled, but I also now see the petitioner as turning a blind eye to his own responsibilities. He recognizes the need to change and do better but rather than step up and follow his understanding he chooses the passive route and waits. Yes, he waits in devout agony but nonetheless he waits for a force greater than himself to step in and make it happen. How damaging this has been throughout our history. How much would we have accomplished if we had not so many times, upon recognizing what needs to be done, just done it rather than waiting for God to batter our hearts and usurp control?

Splintering (A sketch)

These storms came. Sometimes, even most times, they were not so severe as they used to be. But now and then the equivalent of a hundred-year storm still came raging down as it did now on her emotional landscape with little warning. Not a storm like Dorothy Gale’s, mercifully sending her into a technicolor bliss while her psyche recuperated but a storm in which she huddled, all too conscious, in the interior corners of her mind frantically and vainly scrabbling at the walls for an escape while the winds of depression pounded like fists against the shuddering window frames of her mind . The gusts strained the posts of her foundation until they screeched and splintered.

That emotional wind, whipping, now unhinged the connecting points. Less and less of her central edifice held. More and more fragments were flying off in the fray. Thoughts were lost. Chaos descended. Distraction. Mind static, jolting, popped. Popped into place. Pierced out of again. Jagged frightened twitching junkie’s paranoia. Raw nerve ends. Tweaking. Shattered. Frayed. Screaming. A siren's rasping scrape. Pealing carrion cries. Splitting. Sharp-pointed slivers. Frayed frizzled fibers and filaments. Rending wood. Pieces. Tiny pieces. Quivering.

Quivering.

Shattered.

Worn. Worn out.

And now, here again, weeks or months later, is the damage left behind. She retieves pieces, putting them back on the shelf. Remnants, old habits, scraps of familiar joy, all of these things the mortar shoring up her walls. She awaits the friends cautiously checking to see if it is safe to return, watching for sharp edges.

Family Acceptance Trumps All

We are revolted at racism and at other bigotries we witness but it’s when those bigoted views come from family members that we are so completely shocked and offended and angered. Why is that? It’s not just the offensive opinion itself that we are reacting to. Otherwise, our reaction would be just as visceral in hearing it from non-family members. And it’s not just that we tend to assume families share our views and are surprised when they do not. There is something else, an additional offense that is taken, because it comes from family.

It’s that the differences within a family pose a danger of lost family acceptance. There is not much that is more devastating than rejection by one’s family.

Some families have a great capacity to discuss differences and still maintain a cocoon of acceptance. Others require members to “shut up” to keep a semblance of unity or as a way of honoring that unity. But, in any family, if the opiner does not honor family unity and does not hold the others’ needs of family acceptance above their own need to expresses an opinion and if that opinion rejects something fundamental to the very nature and beliefs of one of the others in that family, loss of family acceptance becomes an actuality, not a mere danger.

The expressed opinion, in such cases is a rejection, whether intended or not. The resulting eruption of “How can you say that?” is not just a reaction to hatred or racism or homophobia. It has the additional layer of “How can you so blithely reject me, your sister? How can you value your opinion more than me?”

Quirk of Mind

What skew of sight must there be
To understand harmony?
What wondrous complexity
To enable clarity?

This prism, this quirk of mind
Hating chaos yearns to find
In the midst of ash and soot
Seeds emerging, taking root.

There is no edge to the flame
But in “fire” we give it name.
We give atoms tiny moons
Though but circling cloud festoons.

O, what awesome symmetry
Comprehended by man’s eye!
What fearful rule is beheld,
For the mind is so compelled.

God’s breath is but winds of chance
Seen as ordered elegance.
Recursive lines spun to make
Laws of nature in their wake.

Can you see in ash and soot
Seeds in chaos taking root?
What prism’d light you must be
To understand harmony.

We Made It!

“I made it!” That’s what she said. Tromping up my steps, trying to make her toddler’s legs take grown-up strides. Her parents, still emerging from the car, seem to be towed in her wake. Her father, my son, I’m sure doesn’t want me encouraging this rebelliousness but it is such a joy. No doubt she pestered them to death to get here. How can I help but welcome this imp with open arms and with all my heart?

I imagine she’ll be goin’ across the road in a bit to find her Pup-pup with that same damn determination. It will do her good. It will do him good. He’ll likely close that back door to the garage when he hears her comin’. What a force that child is!

Not like her dad. He had a different way of coping with the secrets in that garage. He dodged. He avoided. He can’t stand contention to this day. He suppresses any question, any discussion. “Don’t stir up trouble!” he says. “Don’t make waves!” “Don’t argue with me!” Can’t really blame him.

But this child, she pushes back. Suppressin’ her here just makes her pop up there. For my money, it’s the better way to go. I’m with you, child. We made it!

Panic of 1819, Redux

There is a nifty little book by Alan Axelrod and Charles Phillips called “What Every American Should Know About American History” (now in at least its third edition) that gives a page or two of historical facts per event. Included is a summary of the events surrounding the Panic of 1819.

Interestingly, the stated causes for the crisis were that “[t]he government incurred heavy debts during the war” which “battered the economy,” there was wild real estate speculation and there were “overextended investments in manufacturing,” which, combined with “the collapse of foreign markets for American goods,” threatened the collapse of those manufacturers. Banks failed and paper money lost value. Credit dried up with lack of confidence.

Sound familiar? Today we have a war racking up heavy debt. We hade wild speculation on housing prices or, if not wild speculation, at least wildly unrealistic expectations of ever-increasing prices. We have an auto industry that cannot adequately compete due to a collapsing global market for it products. We have overextended investment in the mortgage industry that saw its market for sub-prime loans collapse.

In 1819, to address the crisis, states started passing legislation to provide relief to debtors, legislation that was arguably unconstitutional. While our current crisis bailout also has provisions providing relief to home mortgage debtors (also possibly unconstitutional), it is likely that this relief is as much a mirage as it was in 1819. The solution in 1819 ultimately was the chartering of the Second Bank of the United States which took a hard line on existing debt payments, so much so that it was called "the Monster" and it was said that “The bank was saved but the people were ruined.” Likewise today, it seems unlikely that the Treasury can prop up the value of all the mortgage backed securities it is buying if it gives much relief to debtors.

What Kind of Liberal Are You, Anyway?

As Americans we are all liberals. We often forget that America was founded on principles to rid ourselves of tyranny of the king, the aristocracy, the despot. Our history is one of establishing protections for the individual against the state. It is still quite a liberal thing, even 232 years after the country’s inception, to have a government that is based upon the rule of a constitution rather than the rule of a strongman or a strong group. We forget that a constitution empowered only by our trust in each other to adhere to it and forged to protect the individual above all else is a celebration of the dignity and worth of the individual. This is a liberal concept.

But the Constitution is not an exaltation of unfettered individualism. If it were it would establish a true democracy and would let each individual form the associations to which chance and natural ability would lead. It would allow a market place of opinion and power where the joining of the like-minded majority would rule; the minority be damned.

Instead the Constitution established controls so that certain base-line rights of individuals would be protected even if the majority would have otherwise. The Constitution honors the individual but in two ways. It balances the individual's power with the individual's humanity. It balances of the individual’s right of association and to vote with others who are like-minded to determine the rules of the governed with the individual's humanity in which the individual possesses rights that are inalienable, even by the majority. It is a balance between freedom from the strongman and freedom from the majority.

In our current presidential election the issue of whether we have a big government or a less intrusive one comes down to where you feel this balance is achieved. Are you about individual self-determination and preserving your right to association and forming a majority on issues that matter to you? Or, are you about restraining the majority to protect rights of individuals who may be crushed by the majority rule? Are you about freedom from the tyranny of the king or are you about freedom from the tyranny of the majority?

Is the majority’s need for national security sufficient reason to curtail rights to privacy, counsel or habeas corpus? Is the right to health care an inalienable right? Must it be protected from majority rule that would (that does) subject health care to the economics of the marketplace? What about poverty? Is it an issue of individual autonomy and the marketplace or should the strongman enter to ensure the poor receive equal protection of the law? Where do we draw the line and say “this right” is not inalienable and the majority will not be held hostage to protecting it above the general interest?

We All Have Faith

We all have faith. We can’t help but have faith. There is just too much that we do not know. Into the gap of what we do not know we pour faith. The best we can do is observe the world around us, in all of its wonder and glory, evil and catastrophe, love and comfort, and come to our best conclusions of how we think it all works, why we are here, who or what started it or if it ever had a beginning and whether it will ever end and, if so, how and by whom. This is faith.

The scientist has faith. The priest has faith. The atheist has faith. The Buddhist, the Christian and the Jew has faith. So does the youngest child and the most elderly among us.

I have faith.

I do not want to be marginalized or punished or abused because of my faith.

I want the right to live my life according to my faith limited only in that the practice of my faith should not harm anyone else or deprive them of their right to their faith.

It is my wish that I could pledge my loyalty to the principles of my country, that I could use the currency of my country, that I could promise to be truthful in court and on legal documents without having to disavow my faith and promote another’s.

I Made It!

My grandmother died at the age of 99. To her last days, she loved to tell the story, many times over, of a day when I was about four. I had been pestering my parents to go visit Grandma and had been repeatedly refused. Instead, we called Grandma and I told her my plight. In fact, contrary to my parents’ clear statements otherwise, I told Grandma that I was, indeed, coming to visit.

Apparently, somewhere along the line my parents relented and the visit took place. Upon our arrival, my grandmother opened the door to me tromping up the front steps announcing “I made it!” This was the tableau that was so memorable to my grandmother over a span of 45 years .

What was it that made my grandmother admire that so much? It wasn’t something intrinsically admirable about my behavior. (My other grandmother would have been aghast at my arrogant pig-headedness. My parents often viewed it as contentiousness.) For those who knew her, it was easy to see that it was because she had the very same traits, which she proudly viewed as independence and drive. And, now, I look back and admire those traits in her.

I, to the last of my days, will love to tell the story, many times over, of the times my grandmother found delight in the actions of a four-year old tromping up her steps. What is it that makes me admire this so much?

Our Natural Biases

In a considerable chunk of his book, “The Stuff of Thought,” Steven Pinker addresses how our language is based upon our evolutionary development. Our language, he notes, is bound by how we have developed and evolved as a social species or, even more basically, how we developed as corporeal beings in a corporeal world. Our minds, he says, are grounded in basic perceptions linked very much to the tangible world. From our understanding of motion and stillness, we infer change. From our understanding of activity and passivity we infer causation and intent. From our understanding of space and proximity we infer possession and ownership.

What’s more, our minds, it would appear, are presumptuous. Our minds give disproportionate weight to the proximate and the active elements of our surroundings. We would not have survived as a species if our minds worked otherwise. (A nearby walking lion was of much more concern to our ancestors than a distant sleeping one.)

So, the mind’s first reflex is to assign causation to the immediate, the patent and the active. Good science requires us to overcome these developed biases. Good science requires us to consider the long as well as short term, the hidden as well as the obvious, the mediated and aggregated action as well as the single and direct action. We know that a failure to test our assumptions makes bad science. But, unless we educate ourselves against these very basic tendencies, we also develop theories of justice and blame from these same very narrow and often flawed corporeal perspectives.

Unless we educate ourselves to understand these elemental biases of our nature, we will never understand the accumulated effect of our many small decisions and stated opinions on the current human condition. Our hope for humanity relies, as does our hope for science, upon our ability to test our assumptions.

Our minds find it hard to grasp the possibility of huge consequences arising from many small accumulated events. But good science has taught us to strive against these biases. Good science has taught us that many small plankton oxygenate the planet. Good science has taught us that many small atmospheric particles maintain a temperate global climate. Good science has taught us that biological diversity and survival rely upon minute variations in amino acid chains. These discoveries came by challenging the natural assumptions and inclinations by which we survived for millennia. They came by challenging our presumptions that the only significant agents are those that are immediate, patent and active on the human scale. The advances came by considering the potential effects of the long-term, the latent, the miniscule and the cosmic.

If we applied the principles of science to our social and political interactions perhaps we would learn to distrust our immediate perceptions there as well. Our bias toward the immediate, the patent and the active leads us to believe that small stated individual bigotries are too distant from world affairs to have a causative effect, are too insignificant to accumulate in any forceful manner and, as mere verbalizations, are passive in nature having no force of effect. We believe our bigotries are our own business requiring no thought or care as to their impact on the world. We believe they impose no individual obligations or responsibilities.

We should know better. Educating ourselves, striving to uncover the biases of our own perceptions, testing our theories of reality, this is our hope. We need to do it in our science. We need to do it in our human relations.

My Backyard

The picture you see here is one I took last week and sent to some of my family. There was no text. Just a subject line: “Our Backyard Fifteen Minutes Ago”. This is the language of my family.

We speak in terms of nature. We speak to each other of the weather, of the living things around us and by these observations we reveal ourselves to each other. Never too directly, mind you. It must be subtle. In my family, we hide ourselves in the landscape of our observations.

When I was eighteen, I discovered through these means that my brother, had become my friend. He rushed into the house to insist I come with him to the nearby ridge to see the “skyscape” of clouds: black upon charcoal upon slate upon blue upon gray, invading the evening sky. By this he revealed his belief that I would feel as he did.

I opt for this indirect method of communication, too. My mother still alludes to the day I called her, enthused about the overwhelming beauty of the woods on a spring day. As she noted, it had been since childhood that I had cried due to tenderness in her presence (and that was while watching “Lassie”). My call, admitting to tears in the woods, seemed to quench a long thirst of hers.

My mother, as you might expect, has had this same reticence. One that can be overcome if the language of nature was invoked. She rarely talks of how she feels toward us but, by bringing us to the screen porch and holding us up to see the robin’s nest built right up against it, she showed us her fascination and we learned when we were young that she had a desire to share her wonder.

So, between my sister in Missouri, me in New Jersey, my brother and parents in Pennsylvania and some select friends, short nature studies are shared. If you listen, you can hear the undercurrent of our joys and shared remembrances in these snippets: “I heard a beautiful birdsong before daybreak today. Do you think it was a mockingbird?” or, “Do you remember how rare it was ever to see a wild turkey? Well, there is a flock in my back yard,” or “Our backyard fifteen minutes ago. . . .”

What The Bleep Do I Know

I am one of those science junkies who is just knowledgeable enough to think she is beyond pseudo- and junk science but probably not so much as I think. I really do try to learn and study the underlying principles and even, at times, the underlying research. When the research is beyond me because of the inadequacy of my knowledge tools, I try, if it is important enough of an issue, to acquire those tools so that I can delve deeper.

So, when I wanted to know more about the digestive system, I read about the different functions of the stomach, the small intestine and the large intestine and then further about various secretions and absorptions. To understand these better, I drilled down to the functions of the Krebs cycle and the chemical channels and chemical pumps in the cell membranes which led me further to learn about acids and bases, salts and ions and electro-chemical voltage.

I then reached the point where my tools to understand were inadequate. Chain-reading Wikipedia only took me so far. I needed an understanding of chemistry that I did not possess. If I had been a real enthusiast in high school and college chemistry classes and if my brain cells had managed to retain that knowledge for 35 years, I might be able to understand the journal articles that use English only as an incidental subordinate language to chemical notation.

I say all this as a preface. I have what is most certainly a very rudimentary lay knowledge of quantum physics. I may even be flattering myself to think that I have weeded pseudo-science out of my knowledge in this area. But what I do know is that I can recognize instances where people have used their inadequate knowledge of quantum physics to come up with some pretty bizarre metaphysical misinterpretations.

The movie, “What The Bleep Do We Know” is one of these instances. It makes me angry. If someone like me can do armchair research sufficient to understand some fundamental concepts of quantum physics, why can’t those who are intelligent enough to do interviews, compose story boards and film, edit and produce a well-crafted movie use their minds to research their subject matter.

If the creators of this movie had done so they would have realized their understanding of quantum physics was wrong but they still could have produced a wonderful, thought-provoking movie. And, it would have looked almost identical to what they did produce. The difference would have been that the movie would have been the sort of thought-provoking challenge that arises from good myths, parables and morality stories. It would have stretched our minds but it would have done so by acknowledging the fantasy of the premise and drawing analogies and parallels to our experience and potential.

Instead, the movie’s creators took a misconception of the truth and tried to build that same uplifting story as a lesson in fact. The movie was crafted as a hopeful theory of where the “truths” of quantum mechanics might lead us in understanding our “true” potential.

Here is where the flaw is. Quantum mechanics does not, as the movie would have us believe, teach us that we, by our thoughts, can change reality. Quantum mechanics does not provide the basis for some new religion of positive thinking. Rather, it teaches us that the act of observing determines the state of quantum particles. The creators of “What The Bleep Do We Know” have confused “observing” with “conceptual thinking.” They took it as truth that the fundamental course of reality can be altered by our conceptual thinking whereas the truth is that the fundamental state of reality is determined by an act of observing.

We cannot change our reality, we cannot walk through walls, we cannot move to a higher state, merely by mastering our control of the quantum world through the agency of thought. (Maybe it will turn out that we are capable of these things but not because of what quantum physics teaches about possibility clouds resolving into particles or momentum.)

I am so disappointed. The movie could have been so good. And if one chooses not to investigate the truth of its premises, it still is good.

"I Really Don't Know Clouds At All . . ."

You might expect from the title of this post that Joni Mitchell has been on my mind. But, actually, I am thinking more of. . .

Julie Andrews who impressed upon us the beauty of the Austrian Alps, so inspiring as to evoke the metaphor of living music. What would Julie say about the beauty of clouds, which it turns out, truly are living? Maybe (well, but probably not) she would say something like Olivia Judson said in her blog, “The Wild Side”, on February 19, 2008.

Judson draws from a paper in Geophysical Research Letters in noting that the clouds, in spite of their frigidity, acidity and wildly fluctuating states, are full of bacteria. It’s not just that microbes have gotten swept up into unfamiliar hostile altitudes, doomed to bleak survival odds. To the contrary, it appears they are “growing, metabolizing [and] reproducing” in the uptown nimbus and cirrus neighborhoods. This, as Judson points out, raises the prospects that these microbes may well have evolved as a specific adaptation to cloud living.

It also turns out that, to some extent, it appears “microbes contribute to the formation of clouds. Clouds form when water droplets cling to particles in the air, such as dust or salt or ash — or microbes.” And, there is “tentative but mounting evidence suggests that cloud dwelling microbes may indeed biodegrade some of the compounds in the atmosphere. This could alter the composition of rain and snow; but more important, microbes could be affecting the chemical composition of the atmosphere itself.”

So, we may find that bacteria thrive in, help create and contribute to clouds.

What might we carelessly do to these fragile, angel hair ecosystems? It is certainly humbling and awe-inspiring to realize that not just the hills are alive but the very seeds of the clouds are singing with life!

Hill Farm

Caressing the forbidden kiss,

with concern hidden in the breeze,

the earth is held in the lap of contentment.

Desire remembers silky grass

brushed by a sky, protected by distance and space.

Vivid desire

Calm seclusion

Pictured past

Remembering the hill farm peered through grass

Happiness Pump

Centered. Touching the core. Endorphins rushing, climactic.

What primes this pump, that cool draught drawn from the depths and gushing in a burst of joy? The handle raised and lowered to extrude pure happiness is not levered against a single sweet spot. It is pressed against many fulcrums: the softening of the facial muscles; the upward turn of the corners of the mouth; that momentary retraction somewhere near the heart; the relaxing of the eyes upon the distant horizon.

Can we not choose to be happy?

Humanist Prayer

Some believe that without a god to supervene in the affairs of humankind, we would be immoral and despairing. This thinking does not consider that perhaps we are now indeed living in a world where no god intervenes. So, what is the proof? Is there a god who intervenes and would we be doomed if that god removed himself from human affairs? Or, is there no intervening god and so do we already know the morality (and immorality) of which we humans are capable?

Perhaps the test is this. If there is a god intervening in our world, does he bring peace and joy to the lives of those who deny his existence? If it is assumed that he does not, to what do we attribute the joy experienced by those who reject god? Is the atheist deluded or lying if he or she claims to be joyful and at peace? Is it merely a false peace, a shadow of the true peace of god?

I have been in both places. A true believer open to the grace of God’s joy and a true unbeliever experiencing joy. There is no difference.

Here is my “prayer” of joy that I converted from a more theistic version I recently found circulating in a chain email.

I am thrilled with the expectation of this day. I am filled with wonder and awe at the complexity of our bodies and their ability to perceive the things around us. Imagine! Molecules and proteins combining in ever more complex arrangements from which our senses and our consciousness arise!

What's more, I stand in amazement because we would not be here if it were not for the unique circumstances under which we have learned that cooperation and good will ensure the survival of us all. Forgiveness and understanding are our saving grace if we but reach out and embrace it. I determine, today, that I will embrace a forgiving heart - - forgiving myself and forgiving others - - and assume the best in others and myself. What joy there is in seizing the day, knowing that my actions define me to others and knowing that the difference I can make is here and now in this life that I have.

I exalt in the power of knowing that I can affect my destiny but tremble in the knowledge that there are many mysteries and unknowns that can also determine my fate. I therefore resolve not to judge others by the circumstances in which they find themselves. I resolve, also, to calm my hectic day in order that I might listen to my conscience and check the integrity of my thoughts and, through this, broaden my understanding of the world around me and know that I am but one small part.

I know that there is good and bad in my nature but I also know that reason can often rule nature. I will not foolishly rely on superstition or mysticism to somehow alter the course of my actions. Rather, I will find the good in me and others and consciously nurture it and sanely choose, to the best of my ability, to reject the negative. I know there are wellsprings of strength and goodness in human nature beyond what we imagine is available. I am confident that the unleashing of this goodness has an impact, also beyond what we can imagine. I choose to daily draw upon this potential to encourage and assist others, to stand up for the misjudged and misunderstood, to work for justice and fight down suffering. And, finally, I write this that you can share this with others so that they may also believe.

Every battle is in Your hands for You to fight.

Clean

Cool, dark isolation
Curled in a bed
scooped out of the soft earth
Darkened by curved fingers
Lifted up by flat shafts of light

The breath is clean
It is purged
It traces the spine
Exhausting the corrosive restraints

The work, the effort
fires the wind that’s inhaled,
lifts the spines of light.

I Made It!

My grandmother died at the age of 99 To her last days, she loved to tell the story, many times over, of a day when I was about four. I had been pestering my parents to go visit Grandma and had been repeatedly refused. Instead, we called Grandma and I told her my plight. In fact, contrary to my parents’ clear statements otherwise, I told Grandma that I was, indeed, coming to visit.

Apparently, somewhere along the line my parents relented and the visit took place. What was so memorable to my grandmother over a span of 45 years was that, upon our arrival, she opened the door to me tromping up the front steps announcing “I made it!”.

Why did my grandmother admire that so much? Were these traits ones she hoped others saw in her, that she liked to think she saw in her self, that could be extruded and preserved by recognizing them in me?

I love thinking of her loving the story. I love telling of her telling it. I love asking the obvious questions. Can I tell you again the story of my grandmother when she opened the door to me tromping up the steps . . . ?

Intersecting Waves

Evolution tells us to look at origins and see how unique and specialized functions are a natural result of the environment. If self-replicating proteins existed in an environment that often decimated them, we should not be surprised that the few that by chance had a protective covering continued to replicate many times over and are around today while their cohorts that were less environmentally able to cope ceased to be. In an environment antagonistic to proteins, we also should not be surprised to find entities of self-replicating proteins inside protective cell membranes. Neither should we be surprised that an environment more hostile to some membranous entities than to others should result in adaptive and differentiated cells, and so on. But yet, without the perspective of immense time and an understanding of how adaptive changes work in a naturally selecting environment, the complexity of our existence would seem intelligently designed.


Jumping by analogy, let’s think about possibility waves of quarks or electrons. We are surprised to live in a universe where possibility waves, only when they are observed, coalesce into discreet particles. It seems baffling and confounding. How can the universe of basic “stuff”, while unobserved, be described no more discreetly than as a field of possibilities, as a wave formula of oscillating fields, but, when observed, obtain a discreet particle aspect? It is incomprehensible. But would it be if our perspective were different? The problem, it seems to me, is that our comprehension is tainted by our perspective much as an end-product perspective of biology can leave us more mystified than if we perceived that biology from the perspective of evolutionary origins.


What if all that exists is nothing but possibility waves described by oscillating field theories? Suppose that these field theories describe infinite but bounded possibilities (and I think they must, based upon my feeble lay understanding of the science I have read). There can be, then, many infinite but bounded waves. This is different than saying there is an amorphous soup of undefined possibilities. There is still order. There are still distinctions.

Does the intersecting of two infinite but bounded wave possibilities create more a discreetly bounded wave or field? Can it be that the intersection of a certain set of waves or fields creates a described universe uniquely bounded by the parameters of that intersection? In other words could not the intersection of enough wave or field formulas start to represent what we call the natural law of one unique infinitely bounded universe? Such a universe, it seems, could not but produce a discreet set of formulae that we, who have evolved within that universe, would perceive to be unique and specially fitted laws of our existence. . . the Newtonian physics of everyday life. Evolving within these laws, we could not but perceive the world except within these set patterns or parameters. So much so, that we would perceive the set of patterns as the world itself, not as one set of an infinite number of wave intersection sets. We would perceive our unique wave sets as unique patterns, as particles following discreet laws.

What we would be unaware of is the vast meta-universe of possibility waves in which our one reality has coalesced. Until . . . our science leads us down to the quantum level where we are dissecting the particles into wave properties themselves. Wouldn't we then start to see the breakdown of those natural laws? Would we not lose that perspective that is unique to the greater combined intersection of wave possibilities that make up our existence?