I have just reread for the umpteenth time Darwin’s theory related to evolution. And I cannot, for the life of me, understand the dogma that persists between evolutionists and the religious in thinking that they are right and the others are wrong, wrong, wrong. Does not the existent not also include the potential?
There will be a time, it is hoped, in time yet to come, when both will rethink their thoughts and come up with the realization that both sides are neither totally right nor totally wrong.
Where lies the actual difference between one and the other? My own personal conviction is that creation and evolution are one and the same.
Now, before you start thumping your Bible, accusing me of slanderous blasphemy, or as evolutionist, denying the existence or providence of God, claiming intelligence levitation beyond that of the common man, hear me out. My amalgamation of cogitation on the subject is not so malicious that I be thought a lunatic before my explanation be given careful thought and consideration.
In six days, God created Heaven and Earth. On the seventh day, He rested. Whether fiction, fallacy, fact or hearsay, who is to say that He did not go back to work after the so-called day of rest, Sunday, on Monday?
Has it crossed the minds of the religious that perhaps He is still creating? Has it crossed the minds of those who believe in evolution that perhaps evolvement is part and parcel of His original master plan? Who is to say I am right? Who is to say I am wrong?
My Little Lady attended church and taught Sunday school for years. Our three boys had ten-year attendance pins; our daughter, seven. I did not go to church, not then, not now, not ever.
But that leaves little reason to assume that I am not a believer. While they leafed through the Bible, I strolled through the leafy galleries of the forest. I need only to look up towards the heavens through their towering cathedral, day or night, to be enthralled by the expanse of the universe and captivated by the wonders of nature.
In their shadows, I feel closest to God. How could one not believe?
The Little Lady and I lived our life together with the Ten Commandments foremost as our guide, nurturing a strong belief they were not written, nor intended as multiple choice.
Why should we not? There is little lack of variance whether brought down from the top of a mountain written on a tablet of stone, as in her thoughts and teachings, or scrawled by an artistic vandal on some falling down derelict wall, as ponder my thoughts; they simply make good sense. They’re what hold a family together. No civilization can long exist ignoring their practicability.
As you know, many authors wrote the Bible, and their interpretations wander in one general direction from many paths. Which opens the thought to the provocation: Were these writers ever queried as to where they got their information?
Were they writers of fiction or were they writers of fact? Were they reporters who tended to sensationalize? Or were they ghostwriters for incapable, self-appointed leaders who wanted only to impressively grandstand on soapboxes of their time?
Were they writers who wrote what they thought people wanted to hear? Or were they writers who saw in actual fact and wrote of what they themselves witnessed? And may I ask also what truths were possibly lost or manipulated by power-tripping fanatics in transcriptions?
My experiences of life have led me to believe that God and Mother Nature are one and the same. If they are not, then perhaps they are gender-neutral, neither He nor She.
If thought not so by the obvious millions, then it cannot be denied that they are certainly compatible bedfellows. What goes on beyond those sheets of satin white clouds, making angels blush, or on the contrary sing, high in the heavens, is really none of our business.
Nor does it make one iota of difference not knowing. They have done a great job together creating the universe, including the provisions that make life possible on planet Earth.
What we should be paying more attention to, on this Earth that they have granted us, is how we treat the environment, which is the supporter of all life as we know it.
When the quality of life for all living creatures wins over the choking grasp of monetary addiction, life on this Earth will be as God and/or Mother Nature intended.
As I wind up these scribbles, to be printed on paper made from trees that I find no embarrassment in hugging, the rising sun peaks through the east-facing window, encouraging my canaries, which I raise on the broad inner stone wall sills, to burst into full song, which makes me ponder yet another thought: “And on the fifth day, God created birds” (days one through four must’ve been a real drag).
What this country needs is more canaries on window sills, to brighten each day.
Take care, ‘cause we care.