All people who wish to find reality should venture toward a forest.
There, they will look out over a vista of the chaotic… and yet sensible. Everything here has a place, and these places incorporate chance, rather than assuming it does not exist.
At this point, logically, we have a choice in analyzing our perception. Either this vast abundant nature is the result of materiality itself, and randomness, or it is the presence of a Will, a force which leads not just toward life but toward Good.
Leaving aside for a moment the fact that mathematically, randomness does not exist — every effect must have a cause — we can look at this as a complex question. Something created all of this, either itself or a divine force, or both. Could a divine force choose to sleep so that it might dream something like this?
In the last hours of the day, nature is either animate or inanimate. The animate includes some sense of Will or purpose; the inanimate supposes that matter was created — and we know not the means — and just ended up this way.
And yet, there are hummingbirds and eagles in addition to sparrows. There are flowers more beautiful than what is merely required to attract bees. This is the opposite of corporate, or doing the minimum to achieve the bottom line, and more resembles the art and architecture of the past that sought to exalt life.
Here a choice must be made.
Does God exist? Or is all simply random, despite randomness not existing in nature?
We can presuppose it is all arbitrary, of course, and nothing will contradict us. One cannot prove a negative. And all of this could have occurred via a computer loop intensively cycling out of control, and yet…
And yet… it seems to have aimed for the best. For the most beautiful, good and true. That implies a will, or at least a mathematical tendency toward the good, which we cannot quantify.
The greatest in history have taken their stand. Chaos is a servant of the Will, and the Will tends toward making greatness where emptiness previously resided.
At this point, it becomes impossible to accede to atheism, and while no force pushes us inexorably toward theism, there is a lingering sense that something animates all of this.
Animate or inanimate. It distills to that question.
When one is young, and the many factors that go into decisions of this nature remain unknown, randomness seems possible. It Just Is. And yet, as time passes, and one sees how much human intentions go awry, and how nothing is random…
When night falls
she cloaks the world
in impenetrable darkness.
A chill rises
from the soil
and contaminates the air
life has new meaning.
We live in a world of mystery and magic, invisible to our material means.
In it, some force of unknown dimension pursues a greater level of organization, or a greater beauty.
Perhaps we call it nature, or God, or logic…
But it is there, and we are fools if we deny it.