gratitude?

While browsing the blogosphere, I was struck by the hurt out there. We can plan ahead as much as we like, but sooner or later we will be reminded that we can't control our circumstances.

Last time I blogged about this it was because of a song I heard, now I have heard a new song.

http://www.bomb-mp3.com/download.php?mp3_id=3784889&title=Nicole+nordeman+-+Gratitude

I love the way the focus changes in the last verse, without it I'd hate the song. I think this might just be the way it has to be though, see if you get what I mean...

What do you want?

This week-end I sat on my bed reading, enjoying the time away from lab reports and quantum chemistry worksheets. Having emptied my carton of tropicana orange juice with juicy bits, I moved on to fanta orange - what a disappointment!! And yes, I do love oranges. I was left sitting there with my book wondering why I had bought fanta, what had made me think I wanted it when I was in the shop? I wanted something fruity, and the fact that the fanta bottle claimed to contain real fruit didn't help very much, it tasted fake.

Have you ever been left wanting? Having strived for something you thought you wanted, only to realise that you'd spent all that effort on something you didn't really want after all? In fact, sometimes the things we really want are the things we leave behind.

You can say many things about Invictus, it may be sugarcoated, it may be superficial, and it certainly is idealistic; but watching it gave me a warm fuzzy feeling inside. I liked the way a reporter put it: Invictus is a very pleasant and mildly stirring bowl of fettucini with a highly agreeable lead performance by Freeman. But it's not one of those ratatouille dishes that win awards and inspire raves from restaurant critics. Invictus is a movie without a personified villain, lacking excitement or twists of plot. It is, however, packed full of idealism - to the extent that I'm sure some could choke on it, yet I lapped it all up, and it reminded me of what I want.

Home

Staring through the window into the darkness I felt at peace. The headlights of oncoming traffic lit up the the road and it's immediate surroundings; the stark contrast of black on white - rocks and pine trees jutting out of the snow. Despite their cold and hostile appearance my surroundings warmed me - I was home.

As the bus drove through the falling snow I was left thinking of how everything seems to become grey as one grows older; very few things are black and white. If you asked me where home is, I'd probably say something about it being complicated, or give a simple half-truth for an answer. Most things are in fact only true to a certain extent. Science prides itself in being objective; although I could give quite a few examples, from the last few months, of my encounters with the subjectivity of science. I have lost count of the number of scientific truths I've learned, only to be told later that they in fact were gross oversimplifications. Truth is complex, it isn't simple, it still amazes me how difficult science students find defining the most basic consepts. Sure, we may be able to use laws and theories in order to perform calculations, or explain phenomena, but do we really understand them? Religious truth is no different, although there may be less calculations involved...

It is as if learning more is synonymous with the realisation that you in fact know less. Clear-cut truths are oversimplifications. Models and comparisons are great for explaining; any decent teacher uses them, but they all have their limitations. Although a fuller understanding reveals detail, and satisfies the intellect by connecing pieces one had never thought fit; it can also detract from the beauty of simple truth.

Complexity can be both beautiful and frustrating...

...as the double-decker negotiated the streets of london, I looked out through the window and felt content - I was home...