The Great Wager

Strangely enough, the class that I'm not doing so hot in is the one I'm learning quite a bit from. Welcome to another discussion of philosophy the topic this time is Blaise Pascal. Pascal created the calculator, wrote the Pensees (and other books), and pioneered what is known today as computer logic. Without his contributions to the theory of mechanical logic, we would not have computers as we know them today. I'm no computer expert so I won't be treating his mathematics (phew) but his famous argument for the existence of God and the necessity of following Him.

The Great Wager! I really like this proof because it doesn't stop at God's existence but also proves that it is the Christian God and not some other *deity*. While the Pensees themselves are rather disorganized it's pretty easy to explain the logic to the Great Wager, which I'm thankful for. So here we go.

What's with life? What's with nature? What's with man? They are each of them self-contradictory, both affirming and denying God in the same breath with more or less of equal measure. Man is both noble and depraved, having his heart inclined to God but spurning Him with the intellect because nature both acclaims and obscures the very existence of its Creator. Man hopes in God but cannot seem to affirm Him mentally. Pascal calls this evidence a chaotic dilemma and man himself to be a "great chimera" (# 471) of the heart and the head.

Because both man and nature seem to affirm and deny God equally and constantly man himself is left with a terrible dilemma which forces him to choose, this is the Great Wager. If God does not exist and man not follow Him, then what benefit is that to man? He has no hope in life nor in death and lives his life resigned to the inevitability of nothingness. If God does exist and man not follow Him, then he gains but a short time to do his own will while living and loses eternity to the flames and the exquisite pains of separation in Hades. Therefore, if God does indeed exist then the infinite gain of eternal life with an infinite Being is, of course, of incomprehensibly more value than whatever amount of finite years you give in following Him. The possible gain makes the loss as dust on the scales, there is no comparison. Pascal loves this and he belabors his point just a little to draw out this distinction, what are the years you have lost if God does not exist since eternity is nothingness in that case and again what are those same years if God does exist since eternity is ever increasing bliss!

Now, a lot of people would at this point have a few objections. Namely, "I don't seem to have a choice in the matter!" or, "Well, sure fine but that still doesn't mean it's the Christian God specifically." Pascal pretty much rips these to pieces, to my delight. As for choice, why would you choose the desert over the oasis? The frozen tundra to the tropical paradise? As for not the Christian God, Pascal provides a short defense of the faith over others. 1. Christianity addresses both God's perfection and man's falleness and reconciles them together (no other religion offers this). 2. Christianity has fulfilled prophecy and evidence to back up it's claims to your heart. 3. Other religions have essential falsities in them (polytheism with the nature of piety and other monotheisms with fatalism).

To sum up, Pascal's Great Wager is pretty effective if the non-believer has not researched ways to combat it specifically (because it does have some weak points). The only thing I don't like about it is that it will cause a fight or flight response in the hearer, they'll see they don't have a choice and stay to duke it out (and lose) or choose to remain neutral (choose themselves over God). Such is the nature of inescapable dilemmas.

Care for a wager?

Dt

St. Anselm and Circles

Greetings and welcome to my attempt to explain a very complicated man, Anselm. Some of you have already been the butt of my teaching methods and I thank you for your practice and patience. Anselm was a monk who lived in the 1100's and who fashioned the first ontological argument of God, ontology being an argument for existence based on the effects of that existence. An example would be Descartes famous self proclaiming ontology, "I think therefore I am." This kind of logic is usually hard to fathom but it is also brief. I wrote one of my papers for my Philosophy class on him so I hope you'll appreciate what I learned.

Anselm basically made an argument from definition and his definition is, "something greater than which we can conceive of nothing." He breaks his argument into three basic parts, but before I state these it is very important for you to remember that his audience was a primarily Christian one. He didn't make his argument for the existence of God for atheists or agnostics but for believers. What that means is, basically, a Buddhist could take his reasoning and apply it to Buddha quite easily and it would be convincing, to Buddhists but to no one else.

He opens up his dialog stating, "Now we believe you to be something greater than which we can conceive of nothing." If you do not understand this sentence the rest of my explanation will be totally lost on you. The very fact that we can conceive of Him is important as well as that we can conceive of nothing greater. In His essence God is infinite (and beyond) to being the Being which nothing greater can be conceived. Anselm makes this statement then goes on to prove it, in order to use it as evidence later. His proof is simple, we have a concept of this being in our minds, if He existed only in our minds then he would not be the greatest being, if He existed in reality he would not be the greatest being, He must therefore by definition exist in both reality and in our conception in order to be the being which nothing great can be conceived. If He did not, then the definition of, "greater than which we can conceive of nothing" would not be applicable to Him and He would not be this Being.

Anselm then goes on to prove that it is literally impossible to think of this Being as not existing. Now, imagine if you will, two circles. One circle is "things it is possible to imagine as not existing" or more plainly, things that you can think of life without. The other circle is the Being, what Anselm says is that in order for this Being to be what He is there can be no other idea or thing which is greater than He. If you can put the Being circle inside the things that you can think of life without circle then the Being is not actually the Being, he's some other thing. If he really was that which nothing greater can be conceived then we couldn't imagine Him as non-existent. Because then that circle would be greater and the definition would be inapplicable.

The definition of this Being is the cornerstone, strength, and structure of Anselm's argument. Well, what about the non-believers? How can they then consider God as non-existent if it is impossible. Anselm started off by calling them fools (yeah... great way to win an audience) and then proceeds to say how the conception of a man can be different than reality. If they do not rightly understand the definition of this Being then they, of course, do not believe Him to exist because He is not "that which nothing greater can be conceived" in their minds. If He was that Being in their conception then they would believe (which goes back to his opening statement, "if I do not believe I will not understand").

My take on Anselm's ontology. Ok, this guy is way smarter than I am in just about every way you look at it. His goal was to make a self-sufficient argument which was sufficient for Christians and in this he was successful. But his argument would not, by any stretch of the imagination, be able to convince a non-believer of God's existence (or an agnostic that this God is the God of the Bible) but beyond that he never stretched his argument beyond the metaphysical into reality. Don't get me wrong, he didn't want to make his argument evidential beyond the area of the mind and the nature of an infinite spirit but because of his lack of the effects of the metaphysical upon the physical he can't prove anything. He can only say there is strong evidence for the existence of God because we have a conception of this Being. To me this basically means that his argument will continue to be a true inspiration in philosophy and logic but not much of a force in apologetics.

Dt

The Threshold

How fare ye scriptomaniacs? This is (probably) the Stranger. Don't forget to try a Little Calculation below. It's both funny and sad, and sad that its funny. I recently made a few more discoveries in Latin - English similarities which just about made me run around in glee. Hope you also enjoy them.

So, there's this word in Latin, Limen; Liminis neuter noun meaning threshold. It doesn't have any other meanings and only a few uses in Latin. If I were a Roman who just learned English I might use the word threshold like this, "I was standing in the threshold of the gate..." or "We took him up to the threshold..." and even "The threshold was guarded by many men against the enemy." But when we converted this word into our language we pretty much ignored these uses.

The most direct root is found in the word limit which obviously means, "having an end, boundary, or threshold." But there are other more subtle words, subliminal (under the threshold), preliminary (before the threshold), and my personal favorite eliminate (out to the threshold). Now whenever I say the word "eliminate" I know I'm really saying, "take blank out to the threshold" or preliminary "now, before we cross the threshold let's blank." But don't worry, I'm not trying to get some message under your threshold. ^_^

Dt

A Little Calculation

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New(est) Layout

Well, apparently the layout of my blog has once again changed.  Yo people, tis the Stranger, and make yourself welcome.  Do you like the Melding theme?  Frost and Fire meet as one upon the Stranger's wondering eyes...  Yet he seems caught in a heaven sent light amidst the fury of the elements.  I like it very much.  The thing is, as you may well know, I don't do html encoding.  This art was performed by a kitty Kat.  Little did I know, on Sunday morn, that she had completed this work upon my site.  A pleasant surprise.  Let me (and her) know what you think of the new(est) layout.  Perhaps it shall stay?  *shrug* I dunno but for now it is inspiring.

Dt

A Little Stranger

The cry was stifled as soon as it was heard. The boy bit his lip ignoring the rush of pain his nerves were registering. He refused to give his tormentor any pleasure in his pain.

The man shook his head, the memory falling away from him like water from a ducks back. He walked carefully, blue eyes interrogating the ground, searching for signs of disturbance. He was tall with shaggy brown hair cut just above his shoulders and his face would have been handsome but the scowl he wore gave him a desperate look. He bent down and felt the ground for a moment, considering. The ground was cold in the winter afternoon air, but he decided the tracks were fresh rising as he pulled his coat closed around him to keep out the wind. His coat was the closes thing he had to a companion. It was faithful as no one in his life had been.

"What, aren't you gonna cry?" The raven haired boy demanded sounding close to tears himself as he kicked his smaller brother again. "C'mon cry you little brat. CRY!" The brother remained silent, lips refusing to quiver. The raven haired boy screeched as he rushed at him.

The tracks became harder to follow by degrees. Soon they were further apart, further away. You won't lose me so easy the man thought quickening his pace to keep up. He soon broke into a run following furiously, heart racing. The sun was setting and soon the forest would be blanketed in darkness. He would find his prey before then. Yes, this time he would catch them.

The boy stood staring at the setting sun, tears streaming down his face. His raven haired brother had left him alone finally and so he stood, alone with the trees, the sky and the earth. He had never noticed before how comforting silence could be.

I will catch you, the man repeated like a mantra in his mind ignoring the darkening skies above. I will catch you this time. I will. Nothing will stop me. Nothing. "Do you hear me?" He suddenly shouted to the silent forest around him. "NOTHING!" Lightning cracked the sky as if in retort and thunder crashed in reply. Whether it was to him or the lightning he was unsure. Rain began one drop at a time, like a dance just beginning.

The rain fell softly at first then harder and harder. The boy stood letting it cover him completely. In a few moments he was soaked, his tear strained face hidden by a mask of rain. He smiled as he heard his name being called, but he did not reply. "Give me more time" he pleaded silently. "Please give me more time..."

The rain fell in torrents freezing the man. He ignored the warning signs his nerves were sending and bit his lips defiantly against the cold. Evening was coming but he did not care. This time he would keep going. He would follow the tracks to the end even if it killed him. His life had never seemed worth much anyway.

The boy sat in his room staring at the rain through his window. It didn't matter that it was he and not his brother who had been punished. It did not matter that his parents lectured him about wandering the woods alone. It did not matter that his brother gloated at him behind their parents back the whole way home. All that mattered was that he was finally alone. He was finally free, with only himself to be his judge.

The man finally broke through the thicket but in his fervor he lost his footing. He slipped swiftly down the hill, the ice adding speed dangerously. He refused to cry out as he tumbled head over feet down the side of the hill. His mind ceased dissecting his predicament as his body began responding instinctively. After several minutes of struggle he landed in a brown heap at the bottom, breathing hard.

"You think you're so special? You're just a useless pile of muscles, organs and bones. And those you can't even use well..." said the raven haired boy. His brother stared at him, eyes beginning to water. Friends of the raven haired boy surrounded him, watching, waiting, breath held as one. In the silence voices from all over the playground could be heard. Laughter, shrieks of delight, the sound of balls against pavement. The boy blinked.

It had taken him some time but he had found the tracks again. The sun was barely visible above the darkened edge of the earth. The moon had begun to shine overhead, claiming her dominion. Just a little longer, the man begged silently, just a little bit longer. His path had less twists and turns, as if his prey was getting tired. That makes two of us the man thought to himself. But as soon as I catch you I can stop searching. I can stop being afraid of your ever watchful eyes. The man had first become aware of his prey when he heard it taunting him, a disembodied voice replying to his. It was then that he began to notice the tracks following his own. Never one for expected responses, he had turned the tables, hunted had become hunter.

The boy laughed instead. He laughed harder and harder almost going into a manic frenzy. The raven haired boy stared at him in disbelief. His friends mumbled and backed away from the disconcerting laughter. The boy stared at his brother and kept laughing as hard as he could until his brother stalked, or was it fled, away. The boy's laughter became genuine, he had won. He had finally won. He kept laughing as the bell rang, commanding with a tone.

He burst through the pine trees and his triumphant smile faded. He collapsed, landing on his knees as he stared in disbelief. His knife slipped uselessly through his fingers becoming buried in the freezing mud. He had finally followed the tracks all the way. For the first time in his life he saw the home of his prey. A tent sat pitched haphazardly next to a small fire pit. Miscellaneous pots and pans surrounded the fire pit in a random pattern leading to the lake in the middle of the clearing. It was, in fact, the man's own encampment. He stared unable to deny the truth of it with any of his arguments. He had been tracking himself for three years. It was his own voice he had heard, echoing back to him through the trees, off the cliff faces and around the lakes. He was his own hunter, taunting himself, his own worst enemy. The stranger, even to himself.

--Madison Skye--

Dt

PS

How do you like the ghost written bio? It is a metaphor, but rather accurate in many ways. Also there are some hidden messages in the story itself, good luck to you in finding them.

A Debriefing

Hello faithful readers.  This is the Stranger and I wish to announce to you my first ever guest story.  That's right, a close friend of mine (you might say one of my best friends, if "best friend" were a category) is even now in the process of planning and writing a story.  I will wait to inform you as to the nature and content of the story, as well as its meaning.  Until then, in suspense...

Dt

NEXT!?!

Good morn all, this is the Stranger and I am quite aghast.  When I heard that Josh was going to change the name of New Attitude I thought, "Oh no! Well, I will withhold judgement until the new name is announced."  Here it is, NEXT.  Yeah.  Next is next apparently, and it couldn't be much more lame.  I mean, ok I can chill with the message intended by this word but it doesn't have much power in the shadow of ten years of New Attitude.  *SIGH*  This is where someone would say, oh let's just be all meek and follow the leadership (yadayadayada) and I will however this does not change my slight outrage.  We will see what comes next.

Dt

Cold Snap

It was the Dead of Winter and he was whiter than snow. In the lonely mountain ranges which spread across the Eastern world two men slumbered within a warm cabin. The equipment stored close by said they were going to ski cross country, and the thick blanket of snow in the mountain ranges said it would be a good skiing trip. The sky was changing its coat slowly as the rays of the sun reached into the frigid sky. Black heavens receded unto a frosty blue and the harsh klaxon of a cheap alarm rudely roused the travelers from their bunks.

"Remind me again why we set the alarm for 7 in the morning when we have all day to travel to the bottom?" Said a groggy skier. The other man without reply escaped his bunk and warmed up some coffee. Soon thereafter he was joined by his stumbling companion and they shared a simple breakfast of oatmeal, eggs, and coffee. Still mum they put on their suits and sticks and glided out of the cabin into the winter morning.

The trail in the mountains sloped upwards forcing the men to rely on their sticks to propel them to the trail's end. They planned to take this trail until they reached a fairly high altitude and then to simply ski down the mountainside. "Man, I wish my life looked this good all the time." Said the now not groggy man. The view was breathtaking; the sun had just ascended over the peak and was illuminating the forests and valleys in the roots of the mountain. The other man paused to survey the splendor, and then proceeded on without comment.

They eventually began to notice their breathing becoming strained in thin air and decided they had climbed far enough. They hydrated themselves and rested for a few minutes before taking what the talkative one thought of as the big plunge. "Yeeehaaaw!" Said the only man in apparent use of his tongue. The other man was smiling. They raced each other down the snowy scene for a time and then slackened their pace to something a little less hellbent. Still silent he took out his compass and pointed to the east of them, alongside the slope instead of down.

The first time that day the other man replied in actions instead of words and followed him. They travel east until the meet with what skiers call the spines of the mountain. The rocky formations caused by some great upheaval of earth blocked their way east for as far north and south as they could see. Their only option was to travel even farther down the slope. "Figures, we'll probably get lost." Piped up Mr. Talkative. Mr. Silent made a mute sigh.

For the first time that day Mr. Talkative guessed right, they did get lost. The dazzling light began to fade and the snow blurred the differences between rock and tree. In the failing sun they at last spotted a shallow cave in the side of the spine. Fortunately they had some trail mix left to eat and enough water to survive for another day. But the night did not pass with much rest for either of them, for the air was continuously pierced by the cry of the wolves and the roar of bears. They both greatly feared they were squatting in the den of some beast and would soon enjoy claws and teeth as their reward.

Before light had fully taken hold they left the cave. The slope before them was barely discernible and they traveled cautiously towards the bottom. They had almost passed a gap in the spine when Mr. Silent spotted it and made towards it without warning. "Hey, wait! What?" Cried out Mr. Talkative, soon followed by a soft "Ooooh." They headed east desperate to reach the town where their all terrain vehicles were parked with supplies. In the night the sky had sent down a short rain which made the trek more slippery and as a result Mr. Talkative was complaining. "Ahhh, gosh. It had to be freezing rain. The snow was perfect only yesterday and..." Mr. Silent didn't hear any other words and turned his head to see Mr. Talkative sliding backwards down the mountain.

His panicked yells only increased when he lost his sticks and all the while Mr. Silent sped after him. Farther and faster he hurled down the slope but not as quickly as Mr. Silent. Soon enough they were side by side, one in control and one out of it, and Mr. Silent grabbed the arm of Mr. Talkative. They began to slow down, bit by bit, as Mr. Silent shed momentum with well placed movements. Yet he saw the cliff side too late. Suddenly Mr. Talkative was hanging off the edge of the cliff and Mr. Silent somehow had managed to stay on the slope while keeping his companion's arm in a firm hold.

"Richard! Oh Lord, oh Lord!" Stammered Mr. Talkative gripped by fear. "Calm down Mark, you're doing nobody a favor by panicking." Replied Richard with the strain obvious in his voice. "I, I've been headstrong Richard. I've stopped being an example of love and light, and I've allowed my pride to blind me. Oh God, forgive me for wasting so many years and backsliding faster than my ride down this mountain!" "Mark, what are you doing?!"

The air was fast, sliding past him with its frigid knives. The side of the spine had been lifted quite high off the mountain floor and the landscape flashed before Mark's eyes just as fast as his life. Soon he began to hear a high and sweet sound as he fell faster and faster. He looked up to see Richard looking down at him, just a small figure now, and he felt like he was flying instead of falling. In the death of winter he was whiter than the snows of his grave.

Dt

Ps.  This story is a little rough around the edges, so I'm sure you will all have comments about how I can improve it.  But I still like it.

A Somewhat Haunting Scene

Allow me to spin to you the tale of an actual current event. My co worker's (codenamed Sali) mother passed beyond the rain a few days ago. Sali is a bright and cheerful young lady with an Arabic and eastern orthodox lineage. From her character and life I have seen much fruit and have little doubt as to her salvation. She has often told me how her mom has been an inspiration in her life and based on what I've seen in her I wouldn't be surprised to find the Mrs. in heaven one day. I never met Sali's mother but by all accounts she was a beautiful person, how similar her wake was to this.

There was still large amounts of snow on the ground from the big storm only two days prior to the wake. It took me about a quarter of an hour to dig out my car and another to arrive at my destination. Rose Hill Cemetery is not a quiet and secluded place, it is not nestled behind green hills beside a forest, and it is not tiny or quaint. In fact it is just off of Main street, immediately after the Mall, and before another large shopping complex. Despite this odd geographical placement the church by the Cemetery was all the things a grave-side church should be, simple, ambiguous, and beautiful.

I noticed it didn't have any icons or statues right off the bat, it was white on the outside and a softer dim off-white inside. People in dark colors were spread out in clumps of two or three in the receiving area. They were talking in low voices some in English, but most in Arabic or some other foreign language. Many were richly dressed wearing Mink or expensive Italian suits, some were obviously college students with their cargoes or jeans, but everyone was mindful of their current purpose. Death, it seemed, had gathered this conglomerate of tongues in one place.

I eased past the early wave of mourners and signed in, leaving my name and address, and entered into the sanctuary. It was of moderate size following the form of a catholic church (with the nave and focal) minus the statues, pillars, and icons. There were dark wood pews to sit on and I noticed a few friends of mine from work closer to the front where Sali and her family were standing, greeting, crying, and huddling together for protection from some unseen cold.

In the sanctuary guests and families were seated sporadically some were whispering to each other but most were in silent contemplation. The casket was open revealing a middle aged red headed woman with a kind face, an old style eastern cross, a picture of the same woman when she was younger, and a white cloth settled around her. A stool was placed in front of the coffin for those who practiced by any form of the Catholic faith, twenty flower baskets were spread out to the right and left, and a small piano was nestled in the corner. The ceiling, mostly grey, turned white then a majestic looking indigo (representing the Holy See) which melded into a stained glass window of what was probably paradise.

A large family was greeting Sali and her family, they looked to be fast friends. For they kissed each other on the cheeks three times and hugged each other, right before dissolving into tears and sobs as they spoke something in incoherent Arabic. Their meeting was passionate, but brief and they soon had moved on. Round the bend another family came, and another, some with little children, others slowly with canes, and still more in the spring of life. I watched as a family member to Sali brought her new born baby boy for them to hold. Mourning gave way to smiles of delight as they passed the little one to and fro. His giggles and cries of delight melted so many more hearts and they cried more, this time for the joy of life.

Soon enough I went forward with my friend and coworker to offer our condolences, there wasn't much to say so I hugged her and went to pay my respects to her mother. All I could think of as I stood there was this woman's legacy, all of the people in that room may not have cared for her much in life but they were there for her death. Many were suffering the signs of many tears, others of boredom, but they had come to show to Sali and their family that her life was not in vain that she had gained friends and left a big pattern in the fabric of society which would continue to affect it for generations. As I commented to someone while standing in line at the local Barns and Noble (don't ask how we got on the topic) death may be a part of life but so many forget that life is a part of death.

Here's to you, mother to Sali and dear to the hearts of many, I at least am convinced of your life after death. See you there.

Dt

Sana

Good news everyone, this semester I enjoyed my introduction into Latin. I knew English was steeped in the language of Rome but I never realized just how many words we outright steal from them. For example, as the title suggests, sana. Sana means safe or sound (sound as in whole, uncorrupted, etc.) which English uses in the word sane (within one's right mind) so that if we say, "I am a sane man." We really mean, "I am a sound man (or a safe man)." Inversely insanity (non sana) would be likened unto, "I am not a sound man (not a whole, complete, or safe man)."

I'll give a fairly interesting example (which has also changed the way I look at English). After many years of anxious toil and frustration I have solved the mystery between the words dexterity and sinister. In Latin these two words are often found close to each other even though we would hardly think to put them in the same sentence in English. Dextra means right (often combined with hand, road, foot, etc. right as in the direction not the correction) sinister (same spelling!) means left. This made me really think about the history of English and the culture surrounding it. Back way back in time when English was still being formed these words were used and had other connotation besides right and left (it wasn't all black and white). Because most people were right handed they probably connected being nimble with your hands with being right handed. Ergo, dexterous. Left handedness was more rare and you typically do not assume someone to be left handed, and therefore are surprised when they give you a left hook instead of a right cross. This surprise put a pallor of disrespect upon the word "left" and we began to associate sinister with evil tendencies.

Amazing! There are hundreds of examples in Latin of words with the same or a similar meaning to the one English now gives it or of words with the same or similar spelling but completely different meanings! The etymologist in me shrieks with pleasure at the unravelling of often pondered questions like, "Why do we spell words the way we do?" or "How did it come to be that this words means this when it seems to indicate something else?" As my Latin tutor would say, I am a Latin nerd. Well, I proudly hike up my over sized pants and tighten my suspenders because I indeed am a Latin nerd and intend to stay so.

Dt

God make you Mighty

How are you Gentlemen? Perhaps merry? Perhaps joyful? Mayhaps cheery? At times peaceful? Tis Christmas day, for some this day is full of light and life, for others it is lonely and dark, and for yet more just a reason to party and get completely innebriated. I find it sad when I see many who I know and care for spend a Christmas poorly either in themselves or in their actions and if I had a prayer granted unto me it would be that all I love (the love which Christ gave to me) would pass this Holyday with joy and peace. Each of them knowing the truth of salvation, all of them sharing in the race that I run, and every one God blessed and blessing others. This is the Stranger's cry, all of you who read here, God make you mighty, God make you well, God make you holy, and God make you rebel. Rebel from conforming to the darkness in this world, and make you an heir with Christ himself for eternity.

Mighty Christ, merry Christmas.

Dt

Honor Among Thieves

Some say there are only two absolutes in this world, death and taxes. This is fairly same as saying there is only one absolute of many eventualities, sin and the consequences thereof. Now, you might be saying to yourself just now, taxes? Sin? Where's bad? Well, wonder no more my fine friend. I, the Stranger, shall make apparent to you the connections using economic principles combined with biblical truth.

When sin entered into the world it carried with it certain partners in crime. Death, first among them, followed directly on sin's heels with it's big, scary scythe. Also with it came a world of scarcity and hardship. This scarcity was coupled with something we humans had even before the fall, which was infinite desire. This is how we now understand economics as the decisions made by individuals in a world of scarce resources and infinite desires.

If there were no scarcity there would be no need for economics for all would have just what they wanted. This is the proposition upon which my reasoning shall rest, before the fall of man there was no lack of anything for man and therefore little or no reason for an economy. Thereby economics, while not evil or sinful, is a product of a sinful world.

Economics as an idea has no sin within it. It simply states a truth, people act the way they do because they want something in a world with a limited number of things. People can use either good or bad economics for evil purposes to do things which would normally be illegal. For instance, some taxes do what is called redistribution. That is, take from one group of people and give to another group. It could be the group receiving the money is in legitimate crises and without the money provided by the tax would either disburse or suffer. Yet, as Bastiat once said, what special immunity does the government have which protect them from prosecution of simple burglary? If a man were to go to the houses of the rich, plunder them for their jewels and money, and spread the resources among the poor and needy then he would still be prosecuted for committing an illegal act.

Some would argue that this is indeed not illegal yet perhaps it is merely convenient to do so when you appear to be in the altruistic position and you are not harmed by the transaction. It seems a bit funny that many of the people who argue this way are by no means rich or simply have constituents who are not rich. I digress, back to the point. An office of government which has legitimate use and purpose in a society of rarity and sin is by no means immune from corruption. Many of them cause actions like unto the example previously given.

It is in this way that taxes, which have many useful purposes, can be twisted to the purpose of those who claim to protect the interests of the people yet are in actuality merely using popular ideas to promote their own position. For sin is common to men and with sin come greed, pride, and deceit. As in every field of this world full of conflict politics and taxes is filled with goodness and evil alike. And just as in every situation when power and influence are injected in the people within the situation tend to show their pride by craving more and abusing what they have been given. As a famous saying describes, power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

The question which remains is, is there not a better way in which to have a government of accountability and of effectiveness within the society by which it stands?

Dt

Prelude

Salud fellow cyber surfers!  Tis I, the Stranger, who bids thee welcome here.  This is a prelude and nothing more, but a messenger for things to come.  Soon I shall be on winter break and I aim to do some serious logging.  I have thought and experienced much this past semester, much which needs telling.  Among these experiences I have found I lack the formal skills I once had, my papers this semester were good but more difficult to write than usual.  To remedy this I will post more commentaries than stories (or at least, that's the plan).  If the mood for a story strikes I will simply store it and use it later during the school year so as to keep on my formal writing plan.  Some may be rejoicing at my return from the lucid eccentricities of my mind and into more logical and real things.  Although I would contest my stories to be just as real in their own way as my commentaries are, but that is another matter.

To get back to the point, I will be posting again soon and you may expect it to be as strange and out of the ordinary as it tends to be just without the scintillating imagery.  Until then,

Dt

BLOOD

Alright! Finally I, the Stranger, present to you the conclusion to the Marie experiment. I hope to hear from you, Marie, and from you others who have held your comments until now. I eagerly await them, please enjoy the end of From Everlasting to Everlasting.

Sparks and lightning filled the nebulous void of earth that was, specters and shades swirled through the high and keening winds, whilst the spheres vied in battle. Superiority, or the position of highest influence was the goal of each and every one. Some claimed to be better in their beings, some in their weaponry, and still others by their ideals. Yet each sphere was filled with beings hell-bent on the fulfillment of their own goals no matter the cost.

The space of the land of none was charged in hostile energy. Chaotic energies were siphoned and stored for fiendish uses while all plotted their way to become the Princeps, the one whose influence caused all others to servitude. The word in its essence meant the beginning and those who chose it full well knew what title they really were taking.

Electric currents from the skies were being allured as if by siren's song to differing spheres, wafting downwards to earth like a lazy serpent. The hideous chimera's and unspeakable mutants of the earth that was were being tamed and trained for the kill, and every being whether visible or not eagerly awaited for the destruction to come. Every being, including Peter and those with him.

More had joined their causes to his and the size of their combined influence seemed as a mountain. A mountain perhaps, yet a mountain in full battle readiness. Sections of the sphere were filled with rods of light, others with wyverns or other flying beasts, and yet more with various elemental powers or mechanized structures. Each and all of them deadly, every one of them ready. The imPure there had constructed all of them from the substance of chaos in the void, all of the death dealing devices were the stuff of dreams and imagination. Just as they had thought it, then it was.

The imPure in the sphere where Peter was sat at council to discuss the hardest portion of their battle plan. "We are agreed then, upon the giving of surrender that we accept it only if they fight with us." Said Peter. Those there all nodded sagely. "I propose that in order to greatly increase our degree of success we must have a command center and with it a general." The wyvern master said and all agreed to this as well, it could not but make sense. Yet all the common sense and logic in the world did not triumph over the problem which caused them and every other war machine sphere to pop like an overfilled balloon. None would agree to any but themselves.

Havoc ensued. Each one left with their means of destruction and left Peter in his sphere alone once more. Peter had not created any weapon because his role had been to maintain the unity of the sphere and to strengthen the shield of its influence. He was reasonably confident he could defend himself adequately from any weapon but to make war now was impossible for him. So he watched as the void of the earth, already full of pandemonium, became a land fit only for devils.

All the others wasted no time in claiming the title of Princeps and launching what attack they could against all others. Lightning seared and cut through many spheres, the beasts mauled and rampaged across the void, fire, swords, mortars, and things of an unspeakable nature decimated the remaining imPure. Few indeed survived, when the abominations had all lost the wills of their masters, the elements their stock, and they had no more weapons to command was the time when the blood ceased to flow.

Spheres with broken husks were slowly fading and all the survivors came to meet. Peter was among them including some he had known but most of them he had only spoken to once or twice before. In total 325 had survived the carnage in one way or another. "Shall we agree to speak?" Peter asked them, and they all agreed. "In this manner is it not clear to all that none shall be the Princeps? Truly, it is impossible to conceive of the way. We live in this null zone, this place of suffering and torment. Yet once we lived in the Holy City, among the Pure. If only there were some one, some mediator to place one hand upon me and one upon..." Peter's speech could not continue when he tried to say that name. Yet all there saw his words to be true.

"We cannot change and we are doomed to struggle for eternity against each other. For though we desire a better way our selfishness will push us to malice. What we need more than anything else is for our very selves to change." Articulated Peter. One by one, all those still living voiced their consent. The shriek of the air, the lightning in the skies, and the turbulence in the foundations of the earth stilled. The shadows fled and every sphere suddenly popped. A door appeared in the air and all around it the ground was solid allowing the imPure to stand.

The door itself was for them to look upon but it obviously had a use. So Peter went forth from them and grasped the knob. It was locked. He tried knocking but received a fist full of splinters as a reward. He had not noticed there was an iron knocker so he lifted it from the door frame and pounded powerfully on the door. At each peal of the iron on the plate beneath it the door shuddered and their expectations were filled with some secret knowledge they could not identify. The imPure waited and Peter bled.

After a time or an eternity the sound of agony could be discerned. The closer it sounded the more they retreated from the door and when it seemed to come from their very throats the door swung gently open. They all witnessed the history and life of a single man through the portal. It sped past them in a coherent but swift stream. Perfection, miracles, kindness, torment, and death. The life and death of a man was witnessed by them as well as something still better.

Those who killed the man, for it was the imPure themselves, had buried him and walked off to rejoice together. Yet the scene did not fade, a day passed and a night, again it passed, and then it seemed as if they had caught up with time and were watching it now in the present. Two beings, who looked like what the imPure had once been, appeared and dug out the dirt covering the man. He then stood up from the grave and came towards the door and walked through it. From then on not all followed, but all knew that from everlasting to everlasting YHWH is God.

Dt

CHAOS

Now for part two of the Marie experiment...

Darkness appeared as surely as when a light has gone out, and for a while it remained dark. A heavy wind drew in and out and the air was filled with the sound of labored breath. A hissing sound started in the background, while the sensation of vertigo descended on all who yet lived, and the dismal earth was filled with sounds of agony and insanity. Then, slowly, as flowers blooming in the morn, the spheres began appearing.

Peter had been laughing all the while. Too full of shadows and shades, too many thoughts and emotions to process, too much... He could not handle it and remain even remotely sane, so he abandoned sanity and began to laugh as the condition worsened steadily. Then all at once every shadow save one shot out of him as so many rockets, ready to do ill. Finding himself almost alone, Peter could actually think for a moment. "Peter needs to consider and remember, he does." Peter began to recite to himself, "We promise you influence and control, Peter. That's what they said to Peter when he talked to them first." Peter no longer recognized his own persona, but still he was smart.

"Influence, Peter has influence now over the earth." So Peter thought, since there was darkness, and there was vertigo, as well as the strange feeling like nothing around him was all there, and he imagined. Peter thought a sphere would do nicely, something with light in it and gravity, something that causes substance to form around it, and something he can see and hear through and past. Just as he visualized it, it was. A transparent sphere with a unidentifiable source of light illuminating about 30 yards of space around it with semi-clarity. Peter was in the center of the ten foot diameter sphere, his sphere of influence.

As soon as the others who were still conscious saw Peter's sphere, they immediately made their own, some exactly as his was but many with variations. Some emitted a different color light, or had a larger sphere, or a different shape, some made flying spheres or spheres that varied constantly in shape and color. Yet even if it was a square everyone still called it a sphere, because they merely made their actual sphere appear to be something other than what it was.

In this manner many were able to survive the beginning of the period of pandemonium. People began moving about and exploring, although there was never anything new to see. The Holy City had turned into a wasteland and no animal had retained its original form. They had all become chimera, many creatures merging into one, and by so doing formed an abomination. The lions now had talons instead of claws, wings as well, some of them had snakes or scorpions where their tales once were, and in the same manner all the animals had become more deadly and aggressive.

Yet even more hideous were those in their spherical prisons, all of the impure. It was not their appearance which deterred interaction but rather their self serving nature. For from the moment you met one you wanted to leave because of their conceitedness. Many could be seen forming mirrors of their spheres and fixing their appearance, others could be seen using their sphere to increase their physical strength, and others still studied the ways in which they could manipulate matter or perception by the power of the sphere. All they did was to serve themselves and Peter was no exception.

"The world flees from the touch of my sphere." Peter murmured, now that he had time to become reacquainted with himself Peter no longer referred to himself in the third person. "All things around me are shadows and dust and influence is as nothing in the face of the void. It is true, I have control over the way of things around me but if I am the king of infinite space and everything within it is but myself, a thousand other kings, and the nothingness why I think I'd rather find a better way." So Peter pondered on the issue, how could he expand the influence to the extent by which he could enjoy the power he theoretically had.

"Perhaps, if I convince another that it is in their best interest to join their influence with mine, then perhaps we shall change the nature of the void." So Peter propelled himself from sphere to sphere, from one self serving individual to another, and somehow managed to convince two others to join themselves to his cause. James and Mary were their names and they looked eager to grow their power. "Do we agree with one another?" Peter asked them both, they responded, "Yes, we agree."

With that Peter imagined their spheres merging and expanding to create a much larger sphere, covering perhaps 500 yards, and in the center of the sphere they stood upon ground with trees, light, water, and other plants. No matter which direction the sphere swam the gravity and centrality of the land remained, and others around them saw the land and it appeared to them as an island floating in the sky. Just as he thought it, it was. But could he and they continue to agree?

Find out next time in the Stranger's (hopefully) final installment in the serious, From Everlasting to Everlasting. ^_^

ORDER

My good friend, sister to Sonic (she shall be known as... Marie) had an incredibly good idea as to a central plot to a novel. You must have patience with my, what is planned to be, three part series. Please enjoy, and Marie don't be angry with my experimentation... hopefully if you plan to execute your idea my shorts shall help guide you as to what and what not to do. Now to the first part, ORDER.


The black clothed ones watched over the city of YHWH and light burst forth like the sun from its center. Even in the midst of the Rest song could be heard being raised. Speckled across the fields like so many stars were the Pure glorifying YHWH even by their slumber. The melodies of various choirs intermingled in harmony of purpose and of melody. In the midst of it all, the center of attention, and the focal point of all the universe, stood the court of the Almighty. The Spirit was heaviest there and the fragrance like unto vanilla and lavender mixed in some sublime manner. Smoke always obscured it and to go there was to be prostrate before the throne in worship.

The holy city surpassed explanation in its glory and majesty though the Pure have eternity they shall never exhaust its depths. It was then, when the Rest was full of slumber, that those in black melted like shadows into the ground and sped across the ground. One of the Pure stood at the gate of the city, watching the Shades gather. Thousands of them, small and great, thickened the darkness in front of the Pure to a level beyond pitch. Finally one last shadow of enormous size and hideous in shape joined the abysmal conglomerate.

Then the Pure one laughed, his white robes changed to black, and he stepped into the black mass. At first he tried to move and could not, but then some more powerful will asserted itself and he, they, it, moved towards the court of the Almighty with a deliberate step. Around him the city watched in silence, all the choirs lost their voice in astonishment, and to the imPure everything looked like an unfulfilled promise. The brilliant jewels and awesome skies were like beggars change and clouded twilight.

He, they, it, reached the center and stood outside the smoke for a moment. The sweet fragrance like rank death, and the glorious texture as a hideous shape to him. "Part in my path." He said calmly. The smoke was separated by an unseen force and He, they, it, cracked a sinister smile. Confident he walked towards the throne but try as he might he could not keep his head raised when he drew near. There, YHWH, looked at him, them, it, and spoke, "Ah, Peter, do you not enjoy the perfection that is my creation?" YHWH sounded like something incomparable, deeper than the waters, higher than the skies, his voice came from everywhere at once and from YHWH alone. Along with its mysterious quality the voice carried with it a whole range of emotions, Love, sadness, longing, knowing... So that Peter knew exactly what YHWH wanted him to hear.

Even so, he, they, it, did not change the plan. They said, "Remember when you gave to me dominion of this earth?" YHWH kept silent, and he said, "Because I am ready to make use of that dominion now, if you would keep your promise." YHWH made no sound, and it said, "I would like for you to remove your influence completely from this earth." YHWH responded, "Is it Peter who asks me this?" The awesome voice once again conveyed more than mere words, even though it was a question the tone said YHWH already knew, and had always known. Peter replied, "Of course."

"It is done." Said YHWH, and even while the voice faded all the luster from every thing of beauty faded to ashes, him, they, it, spoke, "Finally brothers, chaos is ours to rule and discord shall be from now to till the end of all things! Pandemonium for eternity!"

To be continued...

Dt

P.s.

Endure through this part and the next till the end, and know why the title is as it is.

Not up to 50!

Yes, that's right. My blog may not be an otherworldly torture device which sucks away the years of one's life, but we have just passed the 50th mark in blog posts. Congratulations, readers, on sticking with me so long. I am working on some interesting shorts, which I hope you enjoy, but they may or may not end up causing you to shriek in ultimate suffering. But if it pans out as planned then may actually cause you delight.

Dt

New layout

As if you already did not notice, but just in case. This is my new layout (to be modified in the future) now as some of you know, I know nothing about the fine art of coding. This layout was graciously done for me by a good friend of mine who shall for now remain anonymous. That besides, please enjoy and tell me what you think. Likes? Dislikes?

Dt

Light of the World

Salutations fellow cyber nomads. Tis I, the Stranger, and welcome to the blue oasis of my words. I hope you may find no poisonous insects or venomous snakes among my beach like denizens, except those already defanged and made examples to the determent of their fellows. This next short story is great in length, so please do not be deterred by its size. I've decided I shall attempt to fight the fatigue which threatens to engulf me so completely by singing the breath in my soul to all of you. It might be a faint wind, but even the faintest winds bring refreshment and stir the branches from their...

Silvan sleep, the majestic trees crowned the dark forest floor. Nighttime hung like a sheet along the way and every resting thing sighed in unison with the breeze. Many a sloth rocked as so many hammocks and the great bird of flames itself slumbered amidst its dancing ashes whilst the retarded flames in its feathers twinkled and sparked with a madness peculiar to fire.

As the Sun hid his face and the Moon, that love struck maiden, chased after him a native traversed the hushed woods with reverence. For he feared to stir some ill spirit or awaken those yellow eyes which spare none. So he walked softly and let his eyes look for patterns and shapes instead of colors or movement. If he was being stalked at any time looking for movement was sure to get one killed. With only his thin but sharp spear as his defense he would have but one sure strike at any large predator before it would kill him.

He rested against a giant tree and opened his ears for the sounds of the night. The deep resonant tone of river frogs could be heard nearby, the occasional night bird sounded its voice at the stars, and the snap of a twig nearby was what he heard. The twig, such a small branch but by its sound has saved many lives. The huntsman was high in the tree only seconds later and he peered into the depths of the darkness for any fellow hunter. He saw only shadows, he heard only the restless wind, but the hairs on his neck said something lurked upon the earth.

He continued to travel, more like an arboreal creature now, leaping among the trees with the ease of long practice. Often he stopped to look and listen and just as often did he see and hear nothing. Finally he approached a break in the trees, a small river and one which must needs be crossed. The water was gray in the moonlight and by its property acted like a vanity for the lunar face. The jungle bred warrior hid himself in the leaves and listened long. Only the usual sounds of the soft water met his sharp ears. Quickly he left the protection of his tree and faster still he forded the waters.

As he climbed his next fortress he checked behind him for his pursuer, because it must show itself in order to cross as well. Some bushes parted and into the silver light stepped a proud tiger. His eyes were clearly locked onto the traveler, while a deep rumble emanated from his throat, and he began to gingerly attempt the river. Apparently the big cat was not overfond of water and he decided there was easier prey in the massive jungle. For the woods were his water, and as he slipped past the surface of the greenery no trace of his presence remained.

Feeling much safer now the quester traveled swiftly upon the ground, he had lost precious time to being stalked but now he must do his own stalking. The faint predawn ghost-light began to make all colors equal in their blur, and the time for spying was finally upon him. He located a particularly tall tree and practically ran up it. When he reached the top his eyes began their search, flames, where are the flames? In a nearby valley he spotted a dim flicker and he smiled. Finally, perhaps he may touch his destiny.

He traveled quickly towards his mark and the scenery itself joined the blend of its colors. When the tale of fire's light began to tell against the night he slowed and stole his way to it. And in the recess of the darkness the grim eve was pierced by the living light. Sparks rose with joyous dance, flame brightened and softened in a rhythm, and the mystical creature of feathers and spirit breathed in slumber. Its feathers all glowed in an awesome light, so purely, and the peace of its security was evident in the choice of its bed. On the ground, in the night, in the jungle of predators. The phoenix feared not any of those things.

The native's final task was to somehow master this great bird. Yet how could he? It smoldered and he could feel the heat from thirty yards away. It was massive in form and he perceived when it would awaken its strength and size would only increase. It seemed like such a beast suffered not to be mastered, but try he must or die at the hands of his own tribe. He approached its head, gingerly stepping so as not to make a sound, and when he was close enough to touch it he did so.

In a flurry of bright and sudden movements he found himself on his back, and a burning talon pinning him there, between earth and flames. The glory of the awakened phoenix was mesmerizing, fire of so many colors chased across its wings, and the morning itself was hidden by the light which tore it. Then the tribesman looked into its eyes, and was met by a scrutinizing stare. The massive depths he found there froze his soul even as his body was burning, already burning. Then their meeting was truly inaugurated by the heavens themselves, for the moon had caught up to the sun and the world was thrown into shadows.

Now, the man thought, now perhaps its strength will wane. But instead the creature cocked its head as though listening and in its talons he grasped the sweltering man. Into the sky it dived, and ascended beyond any mark or boundary. It was there the phoenix gave life to its call and the beauty of it made the man weep, the beauty he wanted for himself. They flew for a time and the firebird increased its flame to become the sole light of the world and its brilliance surpassed the Sun.

The man was let down inside his own village and the magnificent thing suffered itself to stay. The chieftain cried in delight, and a sort of mania. "Now our great sacrifice is arrived!" He shouted into the seeming day. He motioned for him and told him because he had brought it he had the honor to kill it. Yet how, why, should it be sacrificed to appease our village god, thought the man. He stood there torn, gazing into the eyes of all his fellows pleading and begging them with his thoughts. A cold wall they seemed to him, urging him on with their existence.

Then he took his spear, raised it to the heavens, and drove it into the phoenix. They danced around its black corpse while the Sun left the Moon's shadowed embrace and in the sunlight he saw a white object underneath the bird. An egg, great and lovely to behold like a gem of many colors, and also like a frozen flame. He took it and ran from his homeland, and lost himself in the trees. He spent his days hiding from his former family and soon from the egg burst a bird, small, but with its life his own was replenished, and by its flames he felt the coal in his heart be replaced with jewels.

Dt