Sunday, July 11, 2010

The more I think about it, the more it haunts me.

Who knew? Bill Whittle also haunted by the Remnant. A term Albert J. Nock used in his short story 'Isaiah's Job'. It's a must read and like Bill Whittle, "The more I think about it, the more it haunts me."

Bill Whittle - The Remnant:
I was myself “corrupted” by this idea of the Remnant four years ago. The more I think about it, the more it haunts me.

Because if you understand and believe that some people carry within them an inextinguishable spark, not of intellect or courage even, but rather of character, then you eventually come to the point where you realize — as did Nock and Isaiah and Plato – that mere numbers of people mean nothing. For if these men are correct, being outnumbered a thousand to one is irrelevant. And about a thousand to one is the number that Isaiah is given by God when he asks how many of the Remnant there may be.

Now you may be thinking that I am positioning this for you to consider yourself the Remnant and Your Humble Author the latest incarnation of their Prophet. I can assure you I mean no such thing. Because the maddening and magnificent thing about this quality of character is that it cannot be hustled, preached to, manipulated or organized:

He may be quite sure that the Remnant will make their own way to him without any adventitious aids; and not only so, but if they find him employing any such aids, as I said, it is ten to one that they will smell a rat in them and will sheer off…

… they take his message much as drivers take the directions on a roadside signboard – that is, with very little thought about the signboard, beyond being gratefully glad that it happened to be there, but with every thought about the directions.

This seems to me to be exactly right. If I take Nock at his word – and more and more I am inclined to do exactly that – then Nock was simply transmitting a message “in the blind,” with no hope or thought to who might read it, or when. And that idea (as he predicted) has burrowed deep into my mind – so much so that I too now feel compelled to re-transmit it in a way that Plato or Isaiah or Albert Jay Nock could never have imagined: at the speed of light to magic lanterns scattered across the entire planet.

One in a thousand of the world’s population is 6 million people. If luck breaks a certain way, this message might reach one percent of that one in a thousand. But the beautiful thing is… that will be enough. Because we are not powerless. There is, indeed, something we can do.



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That Which is Seen, and That Which is Not Seen

I have been pondering in the garden lately how there seemed to be a lack of bees to feed on the magnificent bright yellow flowers of the squash and pumpkins growing this summer. Thus creating anxiety about a fall harvest. Although there seems to be no lack of squirrels to feed on the young green tomatoes.

This early morning I noticed a single bee working a morning flower of the squash and pumpkins. Every morning there are dozens of new morning flowerings but rarely any bees collecting their pollen. I was so excited I grabbed the camera and had to take a photo of this new welcomed friend. Well, after capturing my bee pictures I stepped back from the garden and noticed something truly remarkable. It wasn't just one bee but probably a dozen of them working the some ten feet of graden flowering.

I stepped back a little further and suddenly noticed that a couple of the bees just swarmed the whole length of the flowering as to stake out or mark the area for collecting the pollen. These 'marker' bees would seemingly 'tag' each flowering but often just quickly moved to the next flowering along the length of the field of flowering. Once they had 'tagged' all the flowerings the 'markers' would return to the start of the flowerings. Continually repeating this cycle.

It appears as if the 'markers' had no intent to collect the pollen other than mark the area as to which the other bees gathered the pollen. Sure enough upon closer inspection another set of bees were actually collecting the pollen from each of the flowerings. The 'collectors' would bury themselves into the flowering collecting the pollen and finally move to the next flowering. The 'markers' continued to 'tag' each flowering as the 'collectors' worked to gather the pollen.

My first assumption was that the 'taggers' were acting out a 'Port-A-John' theory of 'Oh, this one is taken?, I'll move on.' but instead they were seemingly telling the 'collectors' where the 'Port-A-John' actually were. Also of note was that the 'taggers' nor the 'collectors' seem to be protective of their flowerings as you could see other insects and even Sweat Bees investagating the flowerings without confrontation.

There maybe hope for our garden yet this year.

God Bless that which we can not see.

Which reminds me of the writings of Frédéric Bastiat - That Which is Seen, and That Which is Not Seen. You know, the Broken Window?

Have a Great Summer and Remember November!