Why is it that people who are enrobed in their own belief system about the nature of life and the cosmos have such antipathy toward science?
Biology and geology are two subjects which receive a great deal of scorn and ridicule from these individuals. The scientific method is not some hostile interloper which destroys true knowledge.
It is a process of observation, forming a hypothesis, conducting experimentation, reaching a conclusion based on the findings, and then formulating a theory. This is a process which has helped humans reach their current stage or, if you prefer, epoch.
Based on the physical evidence observed on this planet and the other findings from moon rocks, Martian landers, etc., there have been many epochs. One can deny the reality of physical evidence, which is an inherited right based on whatever factors compose your mentality.
However, transcendence from mythos to reality is a journey which is not undertaken by those who wish to remain shielded from what is, what was and what awaits tomorrow. It is much easier to dance to the flute and wear laurel leaves at the foot of Mount Olympus, as fellow travellers cast their eyes to the open sea and wonder what lies beyond the known.
Perhaps, this is where there is a separation between the acceptors and the ones who challenge and seek the unknown because they are not content with laurel leaves and dancing at the foot of a mountain where reality is clouded by superstitions and illogic. They set sail in their Argo from the tranquil shores of Iolcos to the mysterious coast of Colchis fraught with the dangers of the unknown.
On the watery journey one hopes that Poseidon will be kind and gentle. Like all journeys from the acceptable to the regions of exploration, one must deal with daily struggles on this planet traversing the cosmos.
John Masefield wrote
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.”
Sea Fever
G. D. Williams © 2017
POST 708
