My metaphysics are in a mess. I've been going through a practical atheist phase now for some time. I've read the books, considered the arguments, examined the evidence, and for the most part I have to say the atheists make a great deal of sense. Religion of any sort often makes little sense. The Buddhists do pretty well by mostly ignoring the whole thing.
Perhaps they're on to something.
When ever we want to talk about something, even if it's with ourselves we use language. Our language started as labels for things. The words we used were non-material symbols for very real things. What makes language work is that, for the most part, we agree on what words signify. If I say 'apple' you have a pretty clear idea what I'm talking about. We can agree (and have a reasonable conversation about) apples because we agree on their properties.
But what does the word 'God' mean? For a start, no two people seem to agree on the nature and properties of God. Furthermore, a label distinguishes an object from its background, for example, 'apple' splits the world into two bits, that which is an apple, and that which is not. But God, if it is any sort of God at all, is not just another object in the universe, and we simply can't point to bits and say THAT is God, but THIS is not God.
That's why some modern theologians say things like God is not A being, but God IS being. God does not exist, but God is existence. Some people find this kind of talk unintelligible. Atheists can rightly point out it sounds like nonsense. But any talk of God is going to sound like nonsense because God is beyond language.
So what then should we do? I say, let's give up God talk. We all know what we have to do: be kind and compassionate. How hard can it be?
Labels: God
Labels: humor
I, too, used to be a mocker. 'Ukuleles! Pfft!' I thought. 'A toy, only fit for children and blue rinse ladies.' But, dear readers, there is a phenomenon sweeping the globe. Suddenly, ukes are COOL! And I understand why.
Musicians are prone to taking themselves oh, so seriously. Young women play endless angsty songs in quavery little voices while young men parade their alienation and hurt (and implicit superiority) for the world. And woe unto you if you do not appreciate their art and their pain.
Guess what? Nobody particularly cares about your interior landscape. Get over yourself.
Music is medicine, but it need not taste awful. Instead, wouldn't it be nice to live in a world where music and laughter went together, where the musician was closer to a clown than a dentist? That world is here, and your passport is a ukulele. You can play anything on a ukulele. You can be enthusiastic, but you will never be serious.
Check out Jake. Then pick your jaw up off the floor and go buy yourself a uke.
Labels: ukulele
Sometimes I lie in bed and worry
I think about the things I said that day
I think about regrets and unkept promise
I guess I am a knucklehead that way
Sometimes I lie in bed and worry
I feel concern for all the human race
I worry that if gravity should fail
We'd all go spinning off in outer space
Sometimes I lie in bed and worry
Wicked people really cause me fright
What if Hitler should rise up from his grave
And come to cause me problems in the night
Sometimes I lie in bed and worry
I'm concerned as all the galaxies inflate
That countless trillion years into the future
Heat death will become our common fate
Sometimes I lie in bed and worry
I think perhaps I am a worry wart
Which of course is just another reason
To worry I don't worry as I ought
Archie was an ugly man
Of quite unpleasant face
His nose looked rather ill at ease
And slightly out of place
In fact his nose was quite depressed
And feeling out of sorts
And though it never said too much
Had suicidal thoughts
Archie never had a clue
Of his nose's mental state
But sometimes wondered why it had
Become so quiet of late
It was late on Tuesday evening
When the fire was burning low
That Archie's nose decided
That it was time to go
So striking out upon its own
It started a new life
Finding happiness at last
With an earlobe for a wife
My bed, it is a safe place
It's where I like to be
I'm pretty sure that nothing bad
Will happen there to me
To curl up with a good book
My wife beside me there
I can safely put away my fears
My worries and my care
And if it's gently raining
It's even better then
I find it difficult to think
Of getting out again
Sp given that I feel this way
I think it's safely said
There is no problem big enough
That can't be solved in bed
So let's all take the generals
And tuck them tightly in
Tiptoe out, turn off the light
And let the peace begin
Posts
