This weekend sees a very significant anniversary for me. I am going to meet up with my oldest and dearest friend in the city where we went to college. I have no doubt that we will revisit all the old haunts and be terribly disappointed when they are no longer there, or changed beyond recognition. I am sure that we will tell all the old stories and be transported back to a youth that we wish that we still have, or that we wish that we had mis-spent differently.
College days were very special and the memories lie deep and are well rooted. Some things are best forgotten but that is not really a possibility until senility wipes out what is written only in our minds. I find it very sad that old age and death remove, from the earth, treasure box after treasure box of memories that can never be replaced. People say that we should not look backward but forward, and though I can see the sense in that, as we get older, there is far more to look back on than there is to look forward to, and there is much pleasure to be gained from reliving the good memories.
My course at college was Junior/secondary Biology, which meant that we had to study a whole host of subjects as well as Education and our subject of choice. The idea being that we would be prepared to teach accross a wide age range, and thus there was a necessity to be as versatile as possible. The course was not great in terms of its educational value I have to say, and most people could get by with a minimal amount of effort. The real learning took place in the three teaching practices, and not surprisingly, these were the times when some people failed and were thrown out. I don't recall anyone having to leave on the basis of a failed exam.
For general subjects we were placed into "Curriculum groups" and these were fairly random in their make up. I guess that they wanted each group to have representatives from all subject areas. Anyway much of the week, we were a unit and moved around from department to department, suffering the joys of a range of tutors.
We had lectures in Maths, English, Art, Music, PE, Drama and RE and were expected to pass in all of them. It wasn't hard, though you did need to turn up now and then i order to be recognised. My friend managed to turn up to two PE lectures atthe beginning of the course and then hung up his kit. I think he still has the shorts - they never needed washing.
Mostly these sessions were seen as social gatherings, though some tutors did engage us, and attendance for their sessions were pretty good. I have fond memories of Art, Drama and Maths, and I have to say that I enjoyed PE and never missed a session. In those days i was quite athletic and enjoyed playing team sports such as basketball, hockey and athletics. I never had the legs for football.
Our resident lunatic tutor, was in the Art department. I'll call him Dennis as that was his name. He was an enthusiastic potter among other things and I think that he found our particular group quite hard to handle. Never in the history of the college had so many cynics been brought together. They say that all education is subversive. We certainly were. Is it me I wonder? but I have always found myself in subversive groups! Dennis's lectures were fun though I don't think we ever learned anything curricular. It did give me inroads into the typography department however and that kindled a life long interest in type and layout.
I became the only one who could use the ancient presses and soon became responsible for printing all the tickets for social events, posters and invitations too. There were no word processors of computers then and it was all done by hand. Images were done in linocuts or hand drawn, I wasn't able to use silk screen, type was all hand set and the presses all manual. I loved the typography and spent many happy hours in there by myself. Eventually though, I managed to break one of the presses in a moment of exuberance and was banned from typography forever.
The real joy of college though is the people that you grow up with. And i guess that that is what we were there for. To learn from each other and to grow up. Some did that very quickly, and I believe that I have yet to meet that objective.
I am looking forward to our mini re-union and although nostalgia is not what it once was, we will revel in the past for a whole day, which will no doubt terminate in a curry!
Thursday 27 September 2007
Monday 24 September 2007
Pain
I am playing an old Vinyl record of J J Cale and wondering what the hell I can write about today. I know that once I stop writing for any length of time, that starting again becomes less and less of a probability. Blues music is wonderul but one thing that it doesn't do is to raise a smile. It is about pain and loss and maybe that is why it appeals. If we can engage in someone else's pain, maybe it makes ours seems less.
I was reading some Jonathan Miller last night and he was talking about body image and various sensations, including physical pain. Body image is a very strange concept, and he is so right when he talks about our own built in image that never seems to change. Inside i feel the same as I did when I was eighteen, and yet whenever I look into the mirror, I step back mentally, not recognising what my bodyhas become, and not liking it much either.
Pain is a part of out body image and has evolved as a means of protection. Without pain we would self destruct in no time at all. There are cases of people born without pain reception and they have a tough time of it. Toddlers chew anything and without pain, this includes tongues and fingers as well as any other body part that teeth can access. Without pain, we'd continue to walk on broken legs, would ignore rotten teeth and most illnesses and ailments. We know our bodies and we know when things are not as they should be.
In extremis, people may lose touch with their body image and then trange things can happen. Sensations may be perceived but not necesarily conected to the body map. Amputees often suffer phantom pains in limbs that no longer exist, and that is something which must be pretty horriffic. Imagine having an itch in a foot that is no longer there.
In Hard Times, by Charles Dickens, Mrs Gradgrind's death scene includes
"Have you a pain Mother?"
"There's a pain somewhere in the room, but I cannot be certain that I have got it."
We can, to a limited extent dissociate ourselves from pain and the odd illegal substance may help; while some people can manage without. Accupuncturists claim that they can remove pain to the e xtent that some have had surgery without any other form of anaesthetic.
Pain is hard to recall in full. Perhaps that is just as well. I was trying to remember the most painful experiences of my life, and I guess that I have been luckier than some. The earliest pain that I can recall, was at Grammar school. I must have been 13 or 14 and was picked on by an older boy, who for no obvious reason, kneed me in the balls. I went down like sack of potatoes and can still feel an attenuated version of the agony now. It took me a day to recover from that.
Later on, as a result of the TB I had suffered as a child, I was tormented by Arthritis in the hip. This pain is both acute and chronic, and what is more it rarely goes away, and as the months go by it takes it's toll. That sort of pain is pure misery and it becomes all consuming, to the extent that it becomes you. Analgesics do little and besides they have their side effects too.
I was fortunate in having the necessary treatment to remove that pain once and for all. Not everyone is so fortunate, and must live their lives in misery.
Well J J has finished and I have to turn him over. I budgetted for one side but I have over run and will stop before I suffer with RSI.
I was reading some Jonathan Miller last night and he was talking about body image and various sensations, including physical pain. Body image is a very strange concept, and he is so right when he talks about our own built in image that never seems to change. Inside i feel the same as I did when I was eighteen, and yet whenever I look into the mirror, I step back mentally, not recognising what my bodyhas become, and not liking it much either.
Pain is a part of out body image and has evolved as a means of protection. Without pain we would self destruct in no time at all. There are cases of people born without pain reception and they have a tough time of it. Toddlers chew anything and without pain, this includes tongues and fingers as well as any other body part that teeth can access. Without pain, we'd continue to walk on broken legs, would ignore rotten teeth and most illnesses and ailments. We know our bodies and we know when things are not as they should be.
In extremis, people may lose touch with their body image and then trange things can happen. Sensations may be perceived but not necesarily conected to the body map. Amputees often suffer phantom pains in limbs that no longer exist, and that is something which must be pretty horriffic. Imagine having an itch in a foot that is no longer there.
In Hard Times, by Charles Dickens, Mrs Gradgrind's death scene includes
"Have you a pain Mother?"
"There's a pain somewhere in the room, but I cannot be certain that I have got it."
We can, to a limited extent dissociate ourselves from pain and the odd illegal substance may help; while some people can manage without. Accupuncturists claim that they can remove pain to the e xtent that some have had surgery without any other form of anaesthetic.
Pain is hard to recall in full. Perhaps that is just as well. I was trying to remember the most painful experiences of my life, and I guess that I have been luckier than some. The earliest pain that I can recall, was at Grammar school. I must have been 13 or 14 and was picked on by an older boy, who for no obvious reason, kneed me in the balls. I went down like sack of potatoes and can still feel an attenuated version of the agony now. It took me a day to recover from that.
Later on, as a result of the TB I had suffered as a child, I was tormented by Arthritis in the hip. This pain is both acute and chronic, and what is more it rarely goes away, and as the months go by it takes it's toll. That sort of pain is pure misery and it becomes all consuming, to the extent that it becomes you. Analgesics do little and besides they have their side effects too.
I was fortunate in having the necessary treatment to remove that pain once and for all. Not everyone is so fortunate, and must live their lives in misery.
Well J J has finished and I have to turn him over. I budgetted for one side but I have over run and will stop before I suffer with RSI.
Saturday 22 September 2007
Comms
In my youth, communication was about talking to people, mostly face to face. I was never very good at it and kept my self to myself as much as i could. Being inside one's own little world can be a great comfort.
If you wanted to talk to someone who lived more than a bike ride away, you wrote letters, and that was something else that I loathed. I remember being forced to write letters to relatives, that were by no means close, and struggling to find anything to say. We didn't have a telephone, and any phone calls were made from a public call box halfway down the village. To make a call, you had to put in 4 old pennies, wait to be connected and if successful, press button A. If unsuccessful you pressed button B, and if you were lucky, you got your money back. Long distance calls had to be booked in advance, and were extraordinarily expensive, and therefore reserved for emergencies.
Bad news always came by means of a telegram, which meant that the woman at the post office got to hear it before you did, and that probably meant that the whole village found out pretty quickly.
We did have a radio, but TV came later, and living in the village, newspapers were like hens teeth. Things were pretty basic, and i don't recall it being a problem.
The other day, i was involved in a very near miss, while driving. A woman, shot out in front of me from a junction, and how I missed her I just don't know. She was of course on her cell phone, and oblivious to anyone else on the road. I am afraid that I gave chase and pulled her off the road to tell her what i thought about her driving, and she seemed to think that she hadn't done anything wrong. A strange perception.
Mobile phones are so ubiquitous now that we all have them and seem to become more dependent on them as time goes by.
Mine tends to sit in my desk drawer most of the time, though if I am going to be away, I do take it with me and sometimes will switch it on. Of course, it never, or rarely rings, and so because of that i often forget where it is. I don't make calls and so I don't get them either, it is a bit catch 22 i guess.
On the other hand, i am a big user of electronic mail and enjoy email contact with the world in general. I love to receive email, and have no objection to spam, though having said that I seem to be spam free at the moment. Email is direct and simple and most people are pretty good at responding. It is also less intrusive than a telephone, though I have known individuals to stop a conversation in order to read a mail. I used to be a devotee of Napster and MSN, and found meeting strangers fascinating. Second life is my current interest and a link to a strange world occupied by some very nice and some not very nice people.
Information overload is a growing problem, and the bombardment can only increase in volume and intensity. It would seem that we have no excuses any more for not keeping in touch with our friends.
I still loathe writing letters by hand and recently realised that handwriting is hard work.
This is my first entry for a while and I am aware that I have little new to say. I hope that I can find the will to write more effectively next time.
If you wanted to talk to someone who lived more than a bike ride away, you wrote letters, and that was something else that I loathed. I remember being forced to write letters to relatives, that were by no means close, and struggling to find anything to say. We didn't have a telephone, and any phone calls were made from a public call box halfway down the village. To make a call, you had to put in 4 old pennies, wait to be connected and if successful, press button A. If unsuccessful you pressed button B, and if you were lucky, you got your money back. Long distance calls had to be booked in advance, and were extraordinarily expensive, and therefore reserved for emergencies.
Bad news always came by means of a telegram, which meant that the woman at the post office got to hear it before you did, and that probably meant that the whole village found out pretty quickly.
We did have a radio, but TV came later, and living in the village, newspapers were like hens teeth. Things were pretty basic, and i don't recall it being a problem.
The other day, i was involved in a very near miss, while driving. A woman, shot out in front of me from a junction, and how I missed her I just don't know. She was of course on her cell phone, and oblivious to anyone else on the road. I am afraid that I gave chase and pulled her off the road to tell her what i thought about her driving, and she seemed to think that she hadn't done anything wrong. A strange perception.
Mobile phones are so ubiquitous now that we all have them and seem to become more dependent on them as time goes by.
Mine tends to sit in my desk drawer most of the time, though if I am going to be away, I do take it with me and sometimes will switch it on. Of course, it never, or rarely rings, and so because of that i often forget where it is. I don't make calls and so I don't get them either, it is a bit catch 22 i guess.
On the other hand, i am a big user of electronic mail and enjoy email contact with the world in general. I love to receive email, and have no objection to spam, though having said that I seem to be spam free at the moment. Email is direct and simple and most people are pretty good at responding. It is also less intrusive than a telephone, though I have known individuals to stop a conversation in order to read a mail. I used to be a devotee of Napster and MSN, and found meeting strangers fascinating. Second life is my current interest and a link to a strange world occupied by some very nice and some not very nice people.
Information overload is a growing problem, and the bombardment can only increase in volume and intensity. It would seem that we have no excuses any more for not keeping in touch with our friends.
I still loathe writing letters by hand and recently realised that handwriting is hard work.
This is my first entry for a while and I am aware that I have little new to say. I hope that I can find the will to write more effectively next time.
Saturday 15 September 2007
In the absence of my own thoughts
I am Very Bothered
I am very bothered when I think
of the bad things I have done in my life.
Not least that time in the chemistry lab
when I held a pair of scissors by the blades
and played the handles
in the naked lilac flame of the Bunsen burner;
then called your name, and handed them over.
O the unrivalled stench of branded skin
as you slipped your thumb and middle finger in,
then couldn't shake off the two burning rings. Marked,
the doctor said, for eternity.
Don't believe me, please, if I say
that was just my butterfingered way, at thirteen,
of asking you if you would marry me.
-- Simon Armitage
I am very bothered when I think
of the bad things I have done in my life.
Not least that time in the chemistry lab
when I held a pair of scissors by the blades
and played the handles
in the naked lilac flame of the Bunsen burner;
then called your name, and handed them over.
O the unrivalled stench of branded skin
as you slipped your thumb and middle finger in,
then couldn't shake off the two burning rings. Marked,
the doctor said, for eternity.
Don't believe me, please, if I say
that was just my butterfingered way, at thirteen,
of asking you if you would marry me.
-- Simon Armitage
Thursday 13 September 2007
Thought for the day
Philip Larkin - This Be The Verse
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself
Tuesday 11 September 2007
An explanation but not an excuse
I am aware that when one writes, there is a risk involved. Probably many risks, but one that springs to mind, is that it is easy to offend others. I am no Jeremy Clarkson, who seems to make a living out of being obnoxious, but I guess that inadvertently I may have said things that others find innappropriate or hurtful. I have no wish to effect anyone in a negative sense and do not set out with malicious intent.
When I write, it is simply a stream of consciousness, brought on by whatever I have absorbed in the recent past. Sometimes I'll begin, knowing something of what i am about to say, but often it is just what comes into my head there and then.
I have had a good morning, after a not so good start. and with a haircut to look forward to, today looks like being ok. I saw my first student of the year today and she is a delight, so that was a good restart to the day. I enjoy the challenge of teaching, and still find my subject to be fascinating. As with most things, I find that the more I know, the more I know how little i know, and that is always humbling.
I have in front of me a pile of plant bits and pieces, the residue of our lesson and it feels good to be able to share knowledge with another human being.
When I write, it is simply a stream of consciousness, brought on by whatever I have absorbed in the recent past. Sometimes I'll begin, knowing something of what i am about to say, but often it is just what comes into my head there and then.
I have had a good morning, after a not so good start. and with a haircut to look forward to, today looks like being ok. I saw my first student of the year today and she is a delight, so that was a good restart to the day. I enjoy the challenge of teaching, and still find my subject to be fascinating. As with most things, I find that the more I know, the more I know how little i know, and that is always humbling.
I have in front of me a pile of plant bits and pieces, the residue of our lesson and it feels good to be able to share knowledge with another human being.
Monday 10 September 2007
Virtuality
I was trying to think hw long it is since I had a haircut. I know I toyed with the idea of shaving my head some while ago and it was a good few weeks before that. Needless to say I am in dire need now. I have gone off the idea of something like a grade one or less, what with summer being about done and all that, but having shorter hair makes aspects of daily life easier.
I have never been too bothered by my appearance, and have no "Style" at all. I dress for comfort and for me a pair of jeans and tee shirt is all I need to wear. I can wear a suit if I have to and I do have some othet clothes I think, somewhere, but as I see very few people anyway it doesn't seem to be of any importance.
This has carried through to Second Life, where one invents oneself again, and imagination is the only limit. I still tend towards black tee shirt and jeans and that again seems to be my comfort zone. Having said that, I met a lovely lady yesterday, who has talked me into doing something about that and I have already begun to redesign. I want to thank her for her words and her generosity in supporting me and I hope to make the most of her help. Oh that things were so easy in reality.
Change is hard. Change has a nasty habit of biting in all the wrong places and causing problems that one never even considers. We all live in boxes of our own construction and breaking out of them, while being liberating, can of course set dominoes falling that were best left undisturbed. The fallout from that can continue for years after the event and I guess that it takes a very selfish approach if that is to leave one unscathed.
I stepped out of my box once, and although I am back inside and the lid nailed shut, the aftermath is sustained. It echoes around me and I have a constant battle, attempting to disregard it. Being selfish can be hard too, though it seems to be no problem for some. I sometimes wish that I could disengage myself.
Meeting people in second life has so far been a wonderful experience and has done much to restore my faith in the goodness of people. For those out there who have never visited, it is worth a try; there is a new community out there and you too can remodel yourself, should you feel so inclined.
I have never been too bothered by my appearance, and have no "Style" at all. I dress for comfort and for me a pair of jeans and tee shirt is all I need to wear. I can wear a suit if I have to and I do have some othet clothes I think, somewhere, but as I see very few people anyway it doesn't seem to be of any importance.
This has carried through to Second Life, where one invents oneself again, and imagination is the only limit. I still tend towards black tee shirt and jeans and that again seems to be my comfort zone. Having said that, I met a lovely lady yesterday, who has talked me into doing something about that and I have already begun to redesign. I want to thank her for her words and her generosity in supporting me and I hope to make the most of her help. Oh that things were so easy in reality.
Change is hard. Change has a nasty habit of biting in all the wrong places and causing problems that one never even considers. We all live in boxes of our own construction and breaking out of them, while being liberating, can of course set dominoes falling that were best left undisturbed. The fallout from that can continue for years after the event and I guess that it takes a very selfish approach if that is to leave one unscathed.
I stepped out of my box once, and although I am back inside and the lid nailed shut, the aftermath is sustained. It echoes around me and I have a constant battle, attempting to disregard it. Being selfish can be hard too, though it seems to be no problem for some. I sometimes wish that I could disengage myself.
Meeting people in second life has so far been a wonderful experience and has done much to restore my faith in the goodness of people. For those out there who have never visited, it is worth a try; there is a new community out there and you too can remodel yourself, should you feel so inclined.
Thursday 6 September 2007
What's in a name?
I apologise in advance for any offence - but hell you don't have to read it.
I was thinking this morning about the number of people that come into and out of our lives, and often, all that we remember are their names. I must have met thousands of children in my teaching life, and the names come back to me, as do the faces. My problem is matching the two lists.
Parents often don't think too hard about the names they give to their offspring, and kids may well be branded fro life with names that they hate. (I know this from personal experience.)
One of the worst combinations I ever heard of was a local family whose surname happend to be Royd, who named their daughter Emma. How cruel can you get? Another that springs to mind was the Carte family and their teenage son Orsen. I know this sounds like an exerpt from "I'm sorry I haven't a clue" but they are true.
One of my jobs when I was teaching was the setting of new intake students. I can remember looking down the lists and identifying many of the lower ability kids by their forenames. The Waynes, Shanes, Carlys, Sharons and Tracys often wound up together. (I have to say that I did in fact use their reports and not their names for the setting process)
As one's teaching career goes by, names become attached to personality types and, it is a mental picture that once formed is hard to remove. Negative images tend to stick, and there are some forenames that my own brain has stereotyped irrevocably.
Not all names of course have negative connotations, some are very agreeabele and I link with wonderful people. Some stand out as they are the only ones that I have met, but these are few and far apart. I only know one Edith, Maureen, Zena, Luke, Edmund and Gabrielle, and most of these are delightful people
Names also have a habit of coming back to haunt, because of events that have taken place in ones life. Names such as Anne, Michael, and Jack still have strong negative influences.
Maybe kids should be given numbers or temporary names until they are old enough to choose one for themselves. Then I guess we'd have some intersting school registers.
I was thinking this morning about the number of people that come into and out of our lives, and often, all that we remember are their names. I must have met thousands of children in my teaching life, and the names come back to me, as do the faces. My problem is matching the two lists.
Parents often don't think too hard about the names they give to their offspring, and kids may well be branded fro life with names that they hate. (I know this from personal experience.)
One of the worst combinations I ever heard of was a local family whose surname happend to be Royd, who named their daughter Emma. How cruel can you get? Another that springs to mind was the Carte family and their teenage son Orsen. I know this sounds like an exerpt from "I'm sorry I haven't a clue" but they are true.
One of my jobs when I was teaching was the setting of new intake students. I can remember looking down the lists and identifying many of the lower ability kids by their forenames. The Waynes, Shanes, Carlys, Sharons and Tracys often wound up together. (I have to say that I did in fact use their reports and not their names for the setting process)
As one's teaching career goes by, names become attached to personality types and, it is a mental picture that once formed is hard to remove. Negative images tend to stick, and there are some forenames that my own brain has stereotyped irrevocably.
Not all names of course have negative connotations, some are very agreeabele and I link with wonderful people. Some stand out as they are the only ones that I have met, but these are few and far apart. I only know one Edith, Maureen, Zena, Luke, Edmund and Gabrielle, and most of these are delightful people
Names also have a habit of coming back to haunt, because of events that have taken place in ones life. Names such as Anne, Michael, and Jack still have strong negative influences.
Maybe kids should be given numbers or temporary names until they are old enough to choose one for themselves. Then I guess we'd have some intersting school registers.
Tuesday 4 September 2007
Time travel
I heard on the radio the other day, that some guy wants someone to give him 20,000 pounds, or was it 200,000? I can't remember, so that he can build a time machine. I don't know i f he has found, or ever will find, anyone daft enough to come up with the money, but I guess there is always someone who is both rich and stupid, so I wish him luck.
It has been said that time travel will never be a reality. This is based on the fact, that no-one has visited us from the future, so therefore, in the future there is no means of travelling to the past. If they ca only travel into the future, they'd have no way of getting back, so therefore the whole thing seems a bit unlikely.
What though, if we could travel in time? Would I want to go forward or back? There are days certainly when I would like to go back into the past and make changes to the things that I did or did not do, but on the other hand it would be interesting to look ahead and see what the future holds. I guess though, that knowing too much about the future, including the time and nature of one's demise, could have calamatous consequences, and would knowing what was going to happen, enable one to change the future? Maybe the future is only an illusion, much in the same way that the past is. We only really experience the present.
I can imagine our inventor friend picking up his money and vanishing, to a future that he already has planned, somewhere in the Caribbean. Punters beware.
It has been said that time travel will never be a reality. This is based on the fact, that no-one has visited us from the future, so therefore, in the future there is no means of travelling to the past. If they ca only travel into the future, they'd have no way of getting back, so therefore the whole thing seems a bit unlikely.
What though, if we could travel in time? Would I want to go forward or back? There are days certainly when I would like to go back into the past and make changes to the things that I did or did not do, but on the other hand it would be interesting to look ahead and see what the future holds. I guess though, that knowing too much about the future, including the time and nature of one's demise, could have calamatous consequences, and would knowing what was going to happen, enable one to change the future? Maybe the future is only an illusion, much in the same way that the past is. We only really experience the present.
I can imagine our inventor friend picking up his money and vanishing, to a future that he already has planned, somewhere in the Caribbean. Punters beware.
Monday 3 September 2007
A rant
I have been following with some interest, the latest exchanges between the Atheists and the Theists, as argued by Richard Dawkins on the one side, and virtually everyone else on the other. Being of a similar mind to Dawkins, I have made myself take a look at the arguments put forward by some of his opponents, and, trying to be as open minded as it is possible to be, I have made an attempt to find an argument that is as convincing as his.
Yesterday I read an extract (and I know that it is not the whole book!) from an offering by John Humphries, whose intellect I also admire. One of the questions that he addresses, is Dawkin assertion that Religion is dangerous, and although he tends to agree that the "Mad Mullahs" that gather extremist Muslims around them, are a serious threat to world peace, in general, he finds himself at odds with the general idea. Now it is easy when putting together any argument, to put to one side, the facts that run counter you your own interpretation of events. We all do it, and to ignore the atrocities, conducted throughout history, and still going on, in the name of God, Allah, or whatever you like to call him/it.
He makes no mention of religious wars, the Spanish Inquisition, the Salem Witch trials, the torture and murders of Catholics by Protestants and vice versa. He ignores the years of conflict in Northern Ireland and the genocide of the Balkans.
Whether or not, there is a God, and as yet no-one has provided me with any supportive evidence for that assertion, organised religions, however benign they may appear, by definition are divisive, closed books, clubs to which only believers are entitled to membership. As such, their existence must lead to conflicts of interests and that is a danger.
It is time that the world grew up and began to look for solutions to the very real problems that we face today. We need to look at ourselves and at the fragile Earth upon which we live. The solutions are here, and it is for human beings to find them. Hoping for the intervention of a divinity is pointless and counterproductive. We are on our own and need to stop believing in fairy tales.
By all means, look at the night sky, or listen to music and wonder. But just because we don't understand something does not mean that supernatural forces are behind it.
Humphries says that people need a faith. Why? There are plenty of us who don't. Maybe it is time that the closed minded, entrenched religious zealots, were put in their place and asked for some real evidence to back up their assertions. A holy book is simply a book, and books can very easily mislead. Throw them away and let people think for themselves for the first time in human history.
Yesterday I read an extract (and I know that it is not the whole book!) from an offering by John Humphries, whose intellect I also admire. One of the questions that he addresses, is Dawkin assertion that Religion is dangerous, and although he tends to agree that the "Mad Mullahs" that gather extremist Muslims around them, are a serious threat to world peace, in general, he finds himself at odds with the general idea. Now it is easy when putting together any argument, to put to one side, the facts that run counter you your own interpretation of events. We all do it, and to ignore the atrocities, conducted throughout history, and still going on, in the name of God, Allah, or whatever you like to call him/it.
He makes no mention of religious wars, the Spanish Inquisition, the Salem Witch trials, the torture and murders of Catholics by Protestants and vice versa. He ignores the years of conflict in Northern Ireland and the genocide of the Balkans.
Whether or not, there is a God, and as yet no-one has provided me with any supportive evidence for that assertion, organised religions, however benign they may appear, by definition are divisive, closed books, clubs to which only believers are entitled to membership. As such, their existence must lead to conflicts of interests and that is a danger.
It is time that the world grew up and began to look for solutions to the very real problems that we face today. We need to look at ourselves and at the fragile Earth upon which we live. The solutions are here, and it is for human beings to find them. Hoping for the intervention of a divinity is pointless and counterproductive. We are on our own and need to stop believing in fairy tales.
By all means, look at the night sky, or listen to music and wonder. But just because we don't understand something does not mean that supernatural forces are behind it.
Humphries says that people need a faith. Why? There are plenty of us who don't. Maybe it is time that the closed minded, entrenched religious zealots, were put in their place and asked for some real evidence to back up their assertions. A holy book is simply a book, and books can very easily mislead. Throw them away and let people think for themselves for the first time in human history.
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