Ribs on a hillside

Ribs on a hillside. You’re now just bleached ribs on a hillside slowly sinking into the soil. The rest of you has been recycled, by vultures, by micro organisms, by sun and wind and rain and time. You were once a deer bounding across the meadows running free in the morning breeze. Then one horrible night as you leaped in alarm to cross the highway before the approach of the blinding light there was a flash and tremendous bang and you were dead. I saw your remains on the side of the road being torn slowly apart by coyotes in the night and vultures in the day. I saw them strew your remains across the landscape dragged this way and that until all that remained was ribs on a hillside. The ancient cycle grinds inexorably on.

Staring into the void

Evolution has made us by simple natural selection so that we want to live and recoil at the prospect of our end. Then the cold reality wherein it occurs of an uncaring unknowing universe simply erases and discards us and our lives, our hopes and dreams and fears like trash and debris. We are snuffed despite our struggles to avoid the end. That is what the naturalistic worldview gives us. That is a horror show. That is incredibly unfair but the cold, mechanical, uncaring universe doesn’t know and cannot care. It seems nearly enough to waken God from his slumber of non-existence to make things right in the sterile void of a naturalistic interpretation of the universe revealed by science.

She taught us to read

February 16, 2022

When I think of my first grade teacher Mrs. Flanders, she taught us to read. That’s pretty amazing! Imagine teaching twenty six year olds to read all at once. When you contemplate that it’s really quite an astounding achievement. First grade teachers are deeply under appreciated.