Posted by:
Uncle Dale
(
)
Date: July 18, 2012 04:48PM
fidget Wrote:
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> I know a lot of people on the board are atheists,
> but has anyone checked out these two things?
Depends upon what is meant by pantheism, I suppose.
It can be as simple as animism -- the idea that "spirits"
inhabit every rock and tree.
Or, it can be as profound as Neoplatonistic philosophy.
On thing is for sure -- if any variety of pantheism has
validity, then we can no longer blame some remote god
for the bad things in the cosmos. For, according to one
version of pantheism, YOU would be to balme, because
YOU are God.
An interesting passage from Herman Melville's Moby Dick:
...turn we then to the one proper mast-head, that of a whale-ship at sea. The three mast-heads are kept manned from sun-rise to sun-set... In the serene weather of the tropics it is exceedingly pleasant, the mast-head; nay, to a dreamy meditative man it is delightful. There you stand, a hundred feet above the silent decks, striding along the deep... There you stand, lost in the infinite series of the sea, with nothing ruffled but the waves. The tranced ship indolently rolls; the drowsy trade winds blow; everything resolves you into languor.... I used to lounge up the rigging very leisurely, resting in the top to have a chat with Queequeg, or any one else off duty whom I might find there... Let me make a clean breast of it here, and frankly admit that I kept but sorry guard. With the problem of the universe revolving in me, how could I -- being left completely to myself at such a thought-engendering altitude -- how could I but lightly hold my obligations to observe all whale-ships' standing orders...
Very often do the captains of such ships take those absent-minded young philosophers to task, upbraiding them with not feeling sufficient interest in the voyage... But all in vain; those young Platonists have a notion that their vision is imperfect... lulled into such an opium-like listlessness of vacant, unconscious reverie is this absent-minded youth by the blending cadence of waves with thoughts, that at last he loses his identity; takes the mystic ocean at his feet for the visible image of that deep, blue, bottomless soul, pervading mankind and nature; and every strange, half-seen, gliding, beautiful thing that eludes him; every dimly-discovered, uprising fin of some undiscernible form, seems to him the embodiment of those elusive thoughts that only people the soul by continually flitting through it. In this enchanted mood, thy spirit ebbs away to whence it came; becomes diffused through time and space; like Cranmer's sprinkled Pantheistic ashes, forming at last a part of every shore the round globe over. There is no life in thee, now, except that rocking life imparted by a gently rolling ship; by her, borrowed from the sea; by the sea, from the inscrutable tides of God. But while this sleep, this dream is on ye, move your foot or hand an inch; slip your hold at all; and your identity comes back in horror. Over Descartian vortices you hover. And perhaps, at mid-day, in the fairest weather, with one half-throttled shriek you drop through that transparent air into the summer sea, no more to rise for ever. Heed it well, ye Pantheists!
http://sidneyrigdon.com/criddle/Smith-ConMan.htm#Sec06aUncle Dale