Steward mentality v Dominion mentality. Biblical in nature or "human nature" exampled in Bible?
Climate Change: deniability: Doubt in the science: Science as an idea: epidemeology vs empirical data in chaos systems: GOD again--belief, in the image of the divine--destroyer or shepherd. The world is ours to destroy as we are godlike: or God will save us no matter what; or we are the chosen beings and so we will fix ourselves.
However, God is a belief and we believe, if we do, out of fear, lack of knowledge, tacit/facile acceptance of cultural beliefs--but we don't need to see it to believe it and if we are wrong about it (ie, dead and no after life you're still just dead) no big deal; if we're right we're saved (maybe); so this is a "better safe than sorry" attitude--hedge your bets...why not the same attitude with climate change?
T0 my mind Science (all of us within its long reach) should doubt all things it does and imagine always that any minor change will be bad news...ie, expect Frankenstein's Monster, not the cure for cancer and proceed with fear and caution. We do the exact opposite of this.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
What Form the World Has by William Bronk
I watch my concern for the world, how it changes: strong
sometimes, elsewhere weaker, as when the world
stands in the landscape like somebody's barn, clump
of trees. Not my land they're on. Whose,
I don't know. Or what they are. Nor
do I care. Times, though, I could think
of them as refuge, having no other and they
being offered, not then either caring what.
Or my intensest concern for the world might be
the times I find me trapped, as it were, in the trees,
boarded-up in that barn. Those times,
I hate the world, want only to break it down.
When we love the world for itself, the world we love
is one, most likely, we may have made or thought
to have made, ourselves, with love or some other power.
As if we could. Well, maybe we can
and did, but taken out of our hands when it is
as it always is, do we know was it ever ours?
I could rest content with the unseen form of the world
and never see it, believing the form were there.
sometimes, elsewhere weaker, as when the world
stands in the landscape like somebody's barn, clump
of trees. Not my land they're on. Whose,
I don't know. Or what they are. Nor
do I care. Times, though, I could think
of them as refuge, having no other and they
being offered, not then either caring what.
Or my intensest concern for the world might be
the times I find me trapped, as it were, in the trees,
boarded-up in that barn. Those times,
I hate the world, want only to break it down.
When we love the world for itself, the world we love
is one, most likely, we may have made or thought
to have made, ourselves, with love or some other power.
As if we could. Well, maybe we can
and did, but taken out of our hands when it is
as it always is, do we know was it ever ours?
I could rest content with the unseen form of the world
and never see it, believing the form were there.
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