Context
I was looking over the new children's nonfiction books at my library when I found Moonbird: a year on the wind with the great survivor B95 by Phillip Hoose. If you go to this link and click on A Look Inside, you'll see that the book describes the survival of an individual migrating shorebird in the face of myriad threats to his existence, including environmental changes wrought by human beings.
Commentary
Yes, once again I'm blogging about a book description, rather than the book itself. I'm a librarian; I read a lot of book descriptions. And movie descriptions. And CD descriptions. I also seem to be on an environmental kick as well, so forgive me if I grow repetitive.
I've been reading little bits of Charles Darwin's The Origin of Species and feeling dismayed that some people hold it in such contempt. Far from being a dry scientific treatise tasked with disproving God's existence, it's actually page after page of Darwin describing the wonders he sees in nature and offering his best explanation as to why they happen. Perhaps I'm perverse, but to me it reads much more like a celebration of creation than a debunking of it.
Anyway, one of the things Darwin is particularly taken with is adaptation, and he devotes most of a chapter to talking about how human beings create (if I can use that word) adaptations in domesticated plants and animals. I agree that it's an amazing process, but not really a surprising one. As people, we're all about making things fit what we want and/or need.
Think about it. Most species reside in places that are suited to their physical makeup: tropical plants in Brazil, penguins in Antarctica. People move to places that are not suited to their physiology at all and then change their physiology! Well, they either put on some clothes or some sunscreen. Or they just change the place itself, by building air-conditioned condos in the middle of the desert.
I'm starting to think this is why we are so hard on the ecology of our planet. We figure we'll always be able to adapt to whatever nature throws at us. And we may be right about that, but we fail to take into account that other species do not adapt that quickly. When we change the environment to suit ourselves, we frequently make it lethally inhospitable to the other inhabitants of the planet. You might say we do this unintentionally, but that doesn't really excuse us. We're supposed to be the ones with the big brains, not to mention the caretakers of all creation. We ought to be able to both adapt and accommodate, not just carelessly wreck everything in our path.
What did you see today?
8/29/2012
8/28/2012
I saw a garden
Context
I was looking at pictures on the internet of people who have replaced their lawns with gardens and found a link to this story of a man who's been cited for having an educational garden instead of a lawn in front of his house because it's considered an eyesore. Wanting to see for myself, I found this picture of the garden in question.
Commentary
Does the garden in the link above look bad to you, like it would diminish property values in the neighborhood? It's OK; you can be honest. It does look a little odd, doesn't it? I mean, there's food growing right out there where everyone can see it!
It seems to me that Americans sometimes have a paradoxical relationship to work. Everyone is supposed to work hard, but when you return to your middle-class home in the suburbs no one is supposed to see the effort you put in. You go to an air-conditioned office in the city for eight hours a day to make enough money to buy food; you don't grow it yourself! It's not just food, either. You're not supposed to work on your car in your yard either, and you're not supposed to hang your clean laundry out to dry.
Pardon the digression, but having been raised in Mexico, that last one was quite a shock to me when I returned to the United States. I mean, line-dried laundry can be a little stiff, but it smells so much better and lasts so much longer than the dryer-processed version. Not to mention how much better it is for the environment.
Which brings me back to the garden, which is also more environmentally sensible than keeping a lawn. And it shouldn't be that difficult. After all, we used to all grow our own food and hang out our own laundry. But I think that's part of the problem. Americans are very fond of progress. We like to feel like we're starting at one point and constantly improving on our way to one goal or another. Going back to something we've already done feels like failure or surrender. In our culture "old-fashioned" and "traditional" are usually meant pejoratively. That's why the words "new" and "improved" so often go together.
Realistically, though, we have to recognize that some progress is not good. Like the constant upward climb of our average weight, which is considerably diminishing our quality of life. Increasingly sophisticated and efficient weaponry is not my favorite form of progress either. Mind you, I'm not advocating that we return to the good old days of beating each other up with rocks. I'm just saying that maybe growing a little food on your property is not a crime. Even if it is a little unusual-looking.
What did you see?
I was looking at pictures on the internet of people who have replaced their lawns with gardens and found a link to this story of a man who's been cited for having an educational garden instead of a lawn in front of his house because it's considered an eyesore. Wanting to see for myself, I found this picture of the garden in question.
Commentary
Does the garden in the link above look bad to you, like it would diminish property values in the neighborhood? It's OK; you can be honest. It does look a little odd, doesn't it? I mean, there's food growing right out there where everyone can see it!
It seems to me that Americans sometimes have a paradoxical relationship to work. Everyone is supposed to work hard, but when you return to your middle-class home in the suburbs no one is supposed to see the effort you put in. You go to an air-conditioned office in the city for eight hours a day to make enough money to buy food; you don't grow it yourself! It's not just food, either. You're not supposed to work on your car in your yard either, and you're not supposed to hang your clean laundry out to dry.
Pardon the digression, but having been raised in Mexico, that last one was quite a shock to me when I returned to the United States. I mean, line-dried laundry can be a little stiff, but it smells so much better and lasts so much longer than the dryer-processed version. Not to mention how much better it is for the environment.
Which brings me back to the garden, which is also more environmentally sensible than keeping a lawn. And it shouldn't be that difficult. After all, we used to all grow our own food and hang out our own laundry. But I think that's part of the problem. Americans are very fond of progress. We like to feel like we're starting at one point and constantly improving on our way to one goal or another. Going back to something we've already done feels like failure or surrender. In our culture "old-fashioned" and "traditional" are usually meant pejoratively. That's why the words "new" and "improved" so often go together.
Realistically, though, we have to recognize that some progress is not good. Like the constant upward climb of our average weight, which is considerably diminishing our quality of life. Increasingly sophisticated and efficient weaponry is not my favorite form of progress either. Mind you, I'm not advocating that we return to the good old days of beating each other up with rocks. I'm just saying that maybe growing a little food on your property is not a crime. Even if it is a little unusual-looking.
What did you see?
8/11/2012
I saw a description of the Divine
Context
My Quaker meeting is reading excerpts from Patricia Loring's Listening Spirituality. One person was particularly struck by this sentence, found in the chapter entitled "Discernment: the Heart of Listening Spirituality: "Both interpretation reflect Friends' felt sense of the Divine as a dynamism rather than as an entity." After some discussion, I added "some" before "Friends'" to my copy of the reading.
Commentary
Quakers are non-dogmatic, which means that although we may spend time talking about what we believe as individuals, we never say that someone else's belief is incorrect. At my meeting, at least, that means that people come to the table with many different conceptions of God. The person who most tends toward the atheistic side of the spectrum like to tease me by asking if I believe God is an old white man in long robes. The completely honest answer to this question is, "Sometimes."
Realistically, I think it's quite a stretch to expect that any human being's understanding of the divine would be entirely accurate. We end up using different language to describe the various aspects we do understand, but those aspects change over time, if only because we choose to emphasize different ones. Even if we decided to remove a great deal of cultural vagaries by talking only about Roman Catholics, a child's idea of her God would vary from a Jesuit's about to graduate from seminary, and his would likely be different from the one held by an elderly woman who's recently been widowed.
So I don't object to people seeing the divine as a dynamism rather than an entity. I even kind of understand where the idea comes from. I think many people prefer this conception because being a discrete entity, or a person, as some of us would have it, would seem to establish inappropriate limits of time and space on the divine nature. On the other hand, I think non-personal language like "flow" or "energy" or, say, "dynamism" is inappropriately limiting as well, in that it takes away the idea the God has a will.
Loring has an answer for this. In the very next paragraph of our reading she discusses a recording of Thomas Merton (referenced in this list) in which he jokes with students about wasting time looking for the map God has planned out for history so they'll know exactly what to do. In Merton's mind, there is no pre-designed map; the road is constantly changing according to the decisions we make and the actions we take.
From my perspective, Merton and Loring are batting .500 as a team. I do agree it's not a good use of our time to try to figure out what God's entire plan is, but that's because the "trying to fit divine-sized stuff into a human brain" problem occurs again, not because the plan doesn't exist. In the final analysis, I feel much more confident living my little Lynn-sized life if I know that God has everything around me in hand (Eeek! A personification!), and everything will work to the good.
What did you see today?
My Quaker meeting is reading excerpts from Patricia Loring's Listening Spirituality. One person was particularly struck by this sentence, found in the chapter entitled "Discernment: the Heart of Listening Spirituality: "Both interpretation reflect Friends' felt sense of the Divine as a dynamism rather than as an entity." After some discussion, I added "some" before "Friends'" to my copy of the reading.
Commentary
Quakers are non-dogmatic, which means that although we may spend time talking about what we believe as individuals, we never say that someone else's belief is incorrect. At my meeting, at least, that means that people come to the table with many different conceptions of God. The person who most tends toward the atheistic side of the spectrum like to tease me by asking if I believe God is an old white man in long robes. The completely honest answer to this question is, "Sometimes."
Realistically, I think it's quite a stretch to expect that any human being's understanding of the divine would be entirely accurate. We end up using different language to describe the various aspects we do understand, but those aspects change over time, if only because we choose to emphasize different ones. Even if we decided to remove a great deal of cultural vagaries by talking only about Roman Catholics, a child's idea of her God would vary from a Jesuit's about to graduate from seminary, and his would likely be different from the one held by an elderly woman who's recently been widowed.
So I don't object to people seeing the divine as a dynamism rather than an entity. I even kind of understand where the idea comes from. I think many people prefer this conception because being a discrete entity, or a person, as some of us would have it, would seem to establish inappropriate limits of time and space on the divine nature. On the other hand, I think non-personal language like "flow" or "energy" or, say, "dynamism" is inappropriately limiting as well, in that it takes away the idea the God has a will.
Loring has an answer for this. In the very next paragraph of our reading she discusses a recording of Thomas Merton (referenced in this list) in which he jokes with students about wasting time looking for the map God has planned out for history so they'll know exactly what to do. In Merton's mind, there is no pre-designed map; the road is constantly changing according to the decisions we make and the actions we take.
From my perspective, Merton and Loring are batting .500 as a team. I do agree it's not a good use of our time to try to figure out what God's entire plan is, but that's because the "trying to fit divine-sized stuff into a human brain" problem occurs again, not because the plan doesn't exist. In the final analysis, I feel much more confident living my little Lynn-sized life if I know that God has everything around me in hand (Eeek! A personification!), and everything will work to the good.
What did you see today?
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