The Harmony of Discord between Nature and the Supernatural

Image by Andres Ramos

 

Remember this: To get through a night that felt to long, to steady hands that wouldn't stop shaking, to remember which direction was home when they'd lost their way.

Have you ever read an argument on Nature and the Supernatural? No? Yes? Maybe?

Do I have someone you need to meet. He is deader than a doornail but he lives on in his words. The author uses Christianity as his deferment but lets not get that twisted and think you can not substitute your own version of religion or philosophy and see what you come out with. It might be interesting. Let us suspend disbelief and belief for a moment and see what we get out of this.

Get a snack and a beverage. I hope you like reading. 

Here is a passage:

"From the first moment or birth-time of modern science, if we could fix the moment, it has been clear that Christianity must ultimately come into a grand issue of life and death with it, or with the tendencies embodied in its progress. Not that Christianity has any conflict with the facts of science, or they with it. On the contrary, since both is and Nature have their common root and harmony in God, Christianity is the natural foster-mother of science, and science the certain handmaid of Christianity. And both together, when rightly conceived, must constitute one complete system of knowledge. But the difficulty is here; that we see things only in a partial manner, and that the two great modes of thought, or intellectual methods, that of Christianity in the supernatural department of God's plan, and that of science in the natural, are so different that a collision is inevitable and a struggle necessary to the final liquidation of the account between them; or, what is the same, necessary to a proper settlement of the conditions of harmony.

Thus, from the time of Galileo's and Newton's discoveries, down to the present moment of discovery and research in geological science, we have seen the Christian teachers stickling for the letter of the Christian documents and alarmed for their safety, and fighting, inch by inch and with solemn pertinacity, the plainest, most indisputable or even demonstrable facts. On the other side, the side of science, multitudes, especially of the mere dilettanti, have been boasting, almost every month, some discovery that was to make a fatal breach upon revealed religion.

And a much greater danger to religion is to be apprehended from science than this, viz., the danger that comes from what may be called a bondage under the method of science,--as if nothing could be true, save as it is proved by the scientific method. Whereas, the method of all the higher truths of religion is different, being the method of faith; a verification by the heart, and not by the notions of the head.

Busied in nature, and profoundly engrossed with her phenomena, confident of the uniformity of her laws, charmed with the opening wonders revealed in her process, armed with manifold powers contributed to the advancement of commerce and the arts by the discovery of her secrets, and pressing onward still in the inquest, with an eagerness stimulated by rivalry and the expectation of greater wonders yet to be revealed,--occupied in this manner, not only does the mind of scientific men but of the age itself become fastened to, and glued down upon, nature; conceiving that nature as a frame of physical order, is itself the system of God; unable to imagine any thing higher and more general to which it is subordinate. Imprisoned, in this manner, by the terms and the method of nature, the tendency is to find the whole system of God included under its laws; and then it is only a part of the same assumption that we are incredulous in regard to any modification, or seeming interruption of their activity, from causes included in the supernatural agency of person, or in those agencies of God himself that complete the unity and true system of his reign. And so it comes to pass that, while the physical order called nature is perhaps only a single and very subordinate term of that universal divine system, a mere pebble chafing in the ocean-bed of its eternity we refuse to believe that this pebble can be acted on at all from without, requiring all events and changes in it to take place under the laws of acting it has inwardly in itself. There is no incarnation therefore, no miracle, no redemptive grace, or experience; for God's system is nature, and it is incredible that the laws of nature should be interrupted; all which is certainly true, if there be no higher, more inclusive system under which it may take place systematically, as a result even of system itself. 

And exactly this must be the understanding of mankind, at some future time, when the account between Christianity and Nature shall have been fully liquidated. When that point is reached, it will be seen that the real system of God included two parts, a natural and a supernatural, and it will no more be incredible that one should act upon the other, than that one planet of particle in the department of Nature should act upon and modify the action of another. But we are not yet ready for a discovery so difficult to be made. 

Thus far the tendency if visible, on every side, to believe in nature simply, and in Christianity only so far as it conforms to Nature and finds shelter under its laws. And the mind of the Christian world is becoming, every day, more and more saturated with this propensity to naturalism; gravitating, as it were, by some fixed law, through imperceptibly or unconsciously, toward a virtual and real unbelief in Christianity itself; for the Christianity that is become a part only of nature, or is classified under Nature, is Christianity extinct. " (Bushnell 7-9)

How did that make you feel? Do you need to lay down on a couch, or pull up a chair? These young whippersnappers' heads are spinning.

That is gonna be one hell of a campfire talk.

And no, I haven't forgotten about the long lost and uncontrived Jungian post that is eluding me. 

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

Source Cited:

Bushnell, Horace. "Nature and the Supernatural".Charles Scribner's Sons, (1907), p. 7-9.

The Sweet Spot #1: Santee State Park

Remember this: Sometimes a body has to go hide in Nature; not hide the body in Nature.

Yesterday, I had official business. The interstate landed me a flat tire due to debris. I pulled over into the wildlife refuge to change my tire. After I got the lug nuts off, an Officer Kuhn showed up on the scene and helped me finish off changing my tire; very professional man. Before I left, I walked out to what should have been a sandy beach-like shore, but the water was up to the margins. In the grasses, there were a host of dry, white snail shells in mass with large mussels three inches wide.

I left and went on to my appointment. I was hanging around the Santee State Park. The Santee State Park is a 100 site Lakeshore campground located in Santee, South Carolina. The first thing you notice is the cleanliness of the location. The second is peaceful.

The water was high, but not that bad. Aside from the weather mishap, this would be a good opportunity for anyone wanting to get away from town to meditate, fish, write, or do artsy things in the name of whatever you are into. Do nothing. Nothing is doing. I laugh.

Let me be your eyes and ears for a minute to tell you about this secret honey hole that you might not know about. Usually, when people look at brochures, they want to believe what is advertised, is what they are getting. It is truthfully represented by the photography on the State Parks page. This place is exactly what it is advertised to be.

It is a calm, quiet place situated down in the woods on Lake Marion. Santee State Park is a place with pivotal, well-placed benches of contemplation. I could imagine slews of poems written just by looking out over the flooded forest. You see this tree line that defiantly stands above the water on the distant horizon. If you didn’t know any better, you would think you were staring out over an ocean. In reality, it use to be a town. Somewhere under that water is the location for General Francis Marion's old homestead.

I’ve hiked the 7.5 mile loop trail. It goes down along the water and back around. The thing of note here is to stay on the trail and follow the markers. The ground looks stable near the lake side, but it is moss and debris over roots. You could take a step through into what looks like solid ground but find yourself in a hole you didn’t know was there. The bank naturally slants back down toward the lake. That condition is to be expected. There is also a Limestone Nature trail, Oak Pinolly trail, and Sinkhole Pond Trail. These are a mile long. The best part about these trails is neatness. You still have to pay attention to where you step.

If you are into ecology, biology, or even geology; this park has a sinkhole for you. You will be submerged in Nature. 

The man in the initial picture above fishing off of the pier is a transplant from New York. He was pulling catfish out left and right. This place is well stocked. It has the following fish and variety number:

Sturgeon (2)

Gars (1)

Bowfin (1)

Freshwater eel (1)

Herring and shad (5)

Mudminnows (1)

Pikes (2)

Minnow and Carp (25)

Suckers (11)

Freshwater Catfish (10)

Cavefish (1)

Pirate Perch(1)

Needlefish (1)

Temperate Bass (4)

Sunfish (19)

Perch (11)

Mullet (1)

Sole (1)

For all my fishy friends...this is the hotspot for you.

Click to Enlarge

Out on a pier over the water and back in the treeline on the lakeshore, there are spacious, quaint cabins. It is the perfect place to squirrel yourself away from technology to work on a novel, draw, or just meditate on nothing. Outside these cabins is easy access down to the fishing piers. The area is well-kept and free of clutter.

There are an assortment of things to do. The nearest town, albeit deceptively away, is under ten minutes or so to get to. You are not completely isolated but it gives you the feeling you are. Looking at the online website you find things like:

Special Events

Survival Boot Camp with Chef Laurie

Artist-in-Residence

Fisheagle Tours (Assortment of tours)

Nature Adventure Outfitters (kayak, canoe, and paddle board rentals)

Fishing

Boating (the boat ramp is like a dream with parking)

Playground (very huge)

Swimming

Birdwatching (the bird list is seven pages long)

Geocaching

Tennis Courts

Biking

Hiking

A book and video check out like a library. 

Boardgames

A mercantile on location

Picnic areas available

Outdoor latrines

Campgrounds (Primitive and others with electric and water)

Laundry facilities and dump stations

I go to this location several times a year just to get away from things that bother me and a change of scene. It is a relaxing place. The next time you decide you want to change things up and try something new, this might be the place for you.

Get out there and explore.  

Written by: Angelia Y Larrimore

If you would like to try it out follow this link to make reservations:

http://www.southcarolinaparks.com/santee/introduction.aspx 

Cultivating Silence, Skulking, Lurking and Shadowy Avoidance.

Remember this: Wild creatures have no thought of the future only NOW.

"Perhaps there is no aspect of wild nature more fascinating than a consideration of the artful ways in which birds and animals meet their emergencies. Our human emergencies are of various kinds--social, financial, psychological, physical. But in nature, crises are always associated with physical peril. We are often trying to escape debt, ennui, loneliness, crowds, vauge but mastering fears of the future. Wild creatures probably have no thought of the future; what they try to escape is immediate danger, fraught with the possibility of death.
In my long life in the wilderness woods, in a country especially rich in wild life, I always took an especial interest in watching how children of Nature met their trials; for in their doing so, they often manifested a poise and an ingenuity that disclosed not only a high intelligence, but what appeared to me to be spiritual quality--a ready dauntlessness that is nowise short of valor.
One day I was walking through a stretch of bulrushes. My setter dog had ranged on ahead of me. Suddenly I heard him begin to bark excitedly. Knowing that he had encountered some kind of wild animal. I hurried forward, soon coming to a break in the marsh where there was a deep brackish pond, perhaps an acre in area. Almost halfway across this stretch of placid water an old raccoon was swimming fast. My dog was also swimming, bent on catching the coon. A raccoon, gentle and ingratiating by nature, can be a valiant fighter; and in shallow water he can often defend himself against an ordinary dog. In deep water the coon's chances are not so good.
Just beyond the halfway mark in the pond, to my surprise the raccoon stopped swimming. He had come on a submerged stump or log, the top of which was almost flush with the level of the water. The coon clambered up on this support, shook the water from his coat, turned, crouched, and so waited, facing my setter, that now, with rising hope, appeared to be certain of seizing his prey.
All about me stretched the great lonely marsh. Here before me was this land-locked lagoon. And in the middle of this arena I was about to see enacted a little drama of the wilds. Here two natural enemies were about to meet, one much stronger than the other. Could sagacity, some form of unpredictable strategy, save the day for the weaker of the two antagonists?
When the dog was within three feet of his wary prey, crouching there, as I thought defenseless, the raccoon suddenly thrust forward his little black hands, remarkably human in their shape and in their suggestion of sensitiveness. As soon as the dog was within reach, these hands gently but firmly took hold of my setter's ears, pushed his head under the water, and held him there. My dog made a wild struggle, as I could tell from the way in which his hind legs and tail frantically threshed the water. Just as I was about to wade in to save my setter from being drowned, the raccoon, with a look on his face that seemed to express contempt for inferiority, thrust the dog's head violently downward and away from him. Gasping pitifully, my setter swam painfully back to me, where he lay down on the edge of the pond and whined, confessing failure, and a dread of a further attempt. He was really more disheveled in spirit than in body. We left the wily old raccoon master of that field of honor. He was not smiling sardonically, but his aspect indicated that such was his feeling over my champion's inglorious discomfiture.
It seems to be a law of nature that anything (even a butterfly) will fight as a last resort. But an older law of nature enjoins wild things to evade trouble. After more than half a century of observing American wild life in its native haunts, I should say that we do not have a single bird, animal, or reptile that will normally take an aggressive attitude toward man unless it is cornered, or thinks it is. An exception perhaps should be made of mothers with their young; yet even they will move off into secrecy and hiding if they are not molested. Another exception is the individual, whose behaviour may be abnormal and therefore dangerous, because it is unexpected.
It is amazing how close wild things will lie or crouch, in the hope of being passed by completely. I remember scores of examples of this, but none more surprising than the case of an old turkey gobbler, a superb veteran, I knew, of many narrow escapes.
I had dried and burned off the stubble in one of my big rice fields. There I had turned in a drove of hogs to root it up. All this was to attract Wilson snipe that delight in such softened ground as they bore in the soil for their food. My sons were coming home for the winter holidays, and snipe shooting was a sport they enjoyed.
When the four of us went to the field, the fire and the hogs had done their work well. No cover of any kind remained except a stubborn solitary tussock or marsh near the center of the field. It was hardly big enough to hide a rabbit.
Approaching the field from different sides, two of us began a bombardment on the east, and two on the west. We kept following the snipe. We crossed and recrossed the field, passing many times near the small tuft of marsh, and shooting all around it. Finally, discovering that we had run completely out of shells, we started for the house. Near the middle of the field we came right to the lone tussock. All of us were within ten feet of it, when, to our amazement, a huge wild gobbler suddenly rose from his scant shelter, ran a few paces, and then took flight. Ponderous yet graceful, that flight took him to safety deep in the distant pine forest. For thrilling moments we watched his lessening black bulk against the pale blue sky.
In this case, as in practically all others that have come under my observation, a wild thing in a tight spot always asks, What's safest to do now? And very often the life saving artifice is to do nothing. We had come up to this open field from two sides. The wild turkey had seen us (he always will see a man before the man sees him), and he had forthwith decided to hide where he was. He crouched low by the little tussock; nor did all our fusillade of shots, and our calling to one another make him budge. His strategy was to wait it out. It was only when he saw that we were about to step on him that he moved.
In dangerous straits wild creatures may by no means resort to flight. They dread revealment. They know that an enemy is innocous if they remain unseen. They therefore cultivate silence, skulking, lurking, shadowy avoidance. Assuming a statuesque pose, a deer or a wild turkey will hold it so long that the eyes of a human watcher may grow weary. By doing nothing when they are startled, they appear to be nothing. I remember one day watching the dead top of a fallen tree. I was sure I saw the horns of a deer amid the dry branches, but could not quite distinguish them. After full twenty minutes, during which time the buck had not moved at all, this wary strategist stepped forth. I believe that many intelligent wild things, as this deer did, select cover favorable to camouflage. Thus I have long noticed that wild turkeys, in selecting roosting trees, invariably choose those that have mistletoe in them, or big bunches of moss, or squirrel nests."

Written by: Archibald Rutledge, deceased.

~Courtesy of AOFH~