will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father.
The central concern of the book "The Sparrow," by Mary Russell Doria, is not so much the existence or non-existence of a maker, but the make-up of the maker as far as we can understand the planning and purpose (or lack thereof) involved. When the sparrow falls, what is its relationship to the overall scheme of things? Was the development of something else dependent on its demise or is destiny no more than bad luck, timing, or the simple running down of the finite molecular machine?
We perceive according to who we are, which leaves reality as reality in pretty bad shape. Nevertheless, history shows that we are capable of some pretty astounding thinking, and I don't suppose it matters in whose name we do it, God, The Queen, Science, The Force, The Fuhrer, The Son, etc. |
The ivy needs something upon which to build; it gropes until this condition is met. Be it foundation, rock, wall, the other, or anything else configured to fit the bill, this is essentially how it works. The veracity of the built upon is irrelevant to the discourse; it's the mechanism we're interested in. We differ from the other animals in that we have an amazing ability to cling to configurations and we'll go to the "ends of the earth" to prove it.
It's also called progress and it's a beautiful thing, of course. Far from looking a gift horse in the mouth, I'm only playing with the suspicion that this progress is mechanical and not metaphorically meaningful. Along with the universe that seems to be expanding so are we, but that does nothing to suggest some kind of monitoring from the outside.
We build in these monitoring introjects early on in our lives. First it's mother and later on it focuses on the motivating power of the mentor and so forth. We all need to refer to judicious checkpoints to see how we're doing. We can't bear to think we're alone. We can't bear to think we're not special.
We can't bear period.
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