Back of the North Wind

Warlock o'Glenwarlock

2010-04-04T16:58:00.000-07:00

I've chosen Easter Sunday to start a new George MacDonald book, after a long hiatus. (Since the last post, I've re-read some GMD favorites, and also read Mary Marson, but didn't comment on Mary Marston here.)

Warlock o'Glenwarlock starts off in the first chapter reminding me why I read GMD, and why CS Lewis read him too. He introduces his main character, the young laird of a diminished estate, and notes of him,

...in the midst of his enjoyment of the world around him, he found himself every now and then sighing after a lovelier nature than that before his eyes. There he read of mountains, if not wilder, yet loftier and more savage than his own, of skies more glorious, of forests of such trees as he knew only from one or two old engravings in the house, on which he looked with a strange, inexplicable reverence: he would sometimes wake weeping from a dream of mountains, or of tossing waters. Once with his waking eyes he saw a mist afar off, between the hills that ramparted the horizon, grow rosy after the sun was down, and his heart filled as with the joy of a new discovery.

Reminiscent of the "longing for joy" CS Lewis describes, especially in "The Pilgrim's Regress", where Lewis describes it as a glimpse of an island in a mist, afar off.

GMD on my Kindle!

2008-04-19T07:34:00.000-07:00

I am now a happy "early-adopter" of the Kindle. Didn't feel that early as I was on the waiting list for awhile, but my Kindle says it thanks me for being an early adopter. Anyway, I decided to buy the Kindle when I did a search on the Amazon Kindle store and found my favorite George MacDonald books all available in Kindle format, and fairly inexpensive as well. (I really don't mind paying for these books more than once.)

Now that I have my Kindle, I find it really works well: the e-ink technology really is relaxing on the eyes, just as everyone seems to be saying it is, and the device just seems to disappear in your hand and let you focus on reading. It doesn't take long before I forget that I'm holding a reader and not a bound set of pages.

But the point of this post was my discovery this morning that all GMD works are available free online (I knew that -- it's a link on this blog) AND in Kindle format. Here's the Manybooks.net link. Kindle format is the first option in Manybooks.net's list of download formats.

Welcome, BHT Folks

2005-04-16T18:10:00.000-07:00

Well, I seem to be a landing place for folks from Boar's Head Tavern who have been having some sort of dispute with one James White, and also a pseodonymous commenter on this blog.

All I can say is "Welcome", and have a good look around. The BHT folks claim CS Lewis as their patron saint, which probably means we have a lot in common, given that George MacDonald is the patron saint of this blog.

Return of the New Kind of Christian

2005-04-15T20:00:00.000-07:00

I just finished (less than 24 hours after it was delivered to my doorstep), The Last Word and the Word After That, by Brian McLaren -- the conclusion to the trilogy which started with A New Kind of Christian. I was not disappointed. McClaren seems to read my mind with what he writes. A good friend of mine and I thought for sure that McLaren had been taking notes on our coffee talks when we first read aNKoC. We took turns calling each other "Neo", the character McLaren uses to challenge the fundamentalism from which we were (are) both recovering.

In "Last Word" (the geek in me wants to abbreviate the title "LW&++"), McLaren spends a lot of time talking about hell, which I very much appreciate. And in fact, I believe he's brought a perspective on the subject I hadn't considered. I'm not going to write about that perspective yet, because I'm still digesting it. But I'll quote one line which certainly nails this blog:

"Ah, Hell... Hell is the frequent preoccupation of recovering fundamentalists."

That would be me. (See for example, discussion of hell from a George MacDonald perspective on this blog).

Maybe by the time I can get over hell, I'll be recovered from my fundamentalism.

Honest, Humble Self-Judgment

2005-04-12T14:15:00.000-07:00

In today's GMD reading, I heard echoes of CS Lewis (or rather, the reverse, of course -- but I read CSL long before I read GMD) as an artist character of MacDonald's talks about judging his work:

A man ought to try to look at his own work as if it were none of his, but not as with the eyes of other people. That is an impossibility, and the attempt a bewilderment. It is with his own eyes he must look, with his own judgment he must judge. The only effort is to get it set far away enough from him to be able to use his own eyes and his own judgment upon it.

George MacDonald, The Seaboard Parish, Chapter 27.

This sounds very reminiscent of CS Lewis' words from Screwtape to Wormwood:

"[God] wants to bring the man to a state of mind in which he could design the best cathedral in the world, and know it to be the best, and rejoice in the fact, without being any more (or less) or otherwise glad at having done it than he would be if it had been done by another."

CS Lewis, The Screwtape Letters, Chapter 14.

Lewis is emphasizing the humility part -- judgment as if another had created the work, forgetting oneself in the assessment. MacDonald adds another aspect: that the judgment still must be made from one's own perspective. I guess that's the only way one can honestly render judgment.

A GMD Theology of X-Sports

2005-04-10T00:00:00.000-07:00

Perhaps George MacDonald would have been a surfer, rock-climber, or skydiver had he lived in our time. In my reading this week, his main character, a parson, tells his daughter that he is going out for a walk in a severe storm. In response to her objection, here is George MacDonald's "theology of X-sports":

Do you think I should be better pleased with my boys if they shrunk from everything involving the least possibility of danger because there was no occasion for it? That is just the way to make cowards. And I am certain God would not like his children to indulge in such moods of self-preservation as that. He might well be ashamed of them. The fearful are far more likely to meet with accidents than the courageous.

George MacDonald, The Seaboard Parish, Chapter 29.

There's a significant context for this in the story. The parson's daughter suffered a horseback-riding accident, and was paralyzed from the waist down. So when MacDonald, through the voice of the parson, recommends against "indulgence in a mood of self-preservation", he does so in the context of an earlier serious consequence for a different, and presumably less dangerous, activity.

GMD on Religious Incantation

2005-04-09T08:00:00.000-07:00

I enjoyed a little de-bunking George MacDonald did for today's reading from The Seaboard Parish. A somewhat overzealous Christian criticizes a carpenter for being too confident of his estimate of how soon the carpenter would be finished with his project. The parson steps in to the poor carpenter's defense:

"You shouldn't be sure of anything, Harry. We are told in the New Testament that we ought to say 'If the Lord Will', said Joe."

"You shouldn't be too hard upon Harry," I said. "You don't think that the Bible means to pull a man up every step like that, till he's afraid to speak a word? It was about a long journey and a year's residence that the Apostle James was speaking."

"No doubt, sir. But the principle's the same. Harry can no more be sure of finishing his work before it be dark, than those people could be of going their long journey."

"That is perfectly true. But you are taking the letter for the spirit, and that, I suspect, in more ways than one. The religion does not lie in not being sure about anything, but in a loving desire that the will of God in the matter, whatever it be, may be done. And if Harry has not learned yet to care about the will of God, what is the good of coming down upon him that way, as if that would teach him in the least. When he loves God, then, and not till then, will he care about his will."

I find this so refreshing. I'm sure that there are other "christianese incantations" I've heard that are unnecessary. But GMD criticizes not only the incantation itself, but the idea of trying to enforce a moral attitude on someone else through their speech.

Meanwhile, MacDonald continues with further criticism of the incantation:

Nor does the religion lie in saying, If the Lord will, every time anything is to be done. It is a most dangerous thing to use sacred words often. It makes them so common to our ear that at length, when used most solemnly, they have not half the effect they ought to have, and that is a serious loss. What the Apostle means is, that we should always be in the mood of looking up to God and having regard to his will, not always writing D.V. for instance, as so many do---most irreverently, I think---using a Latin contraction for the beautiful words, just as if they were a charm, or as if God would take offence if they did not make the salvo of acknowledgment. It seems to me quite heathenish.

(D.V. is "Deo volente" = "God Willing", by the way.) George MacDonald seems to me to be on pretty solid ground here, especially in the context of Jesus' instructions to his disciples:

But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen do: for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking.

Matthew 6:7.

(Or check out the same passage in this version for a suprising slam on some Christianese.)

MacDonald wraps up the whole discussion with the following:

Our hearts ought ever to be in the spirit of those words; our lips ought to utter them rarely. Besides, there are some things a man might be pretty sure the Lord wills."

And that final line is not only cute (one can almost see the smirk on MacDonald's face as he says it), but echoes the book by Garry Friesen, Decision Making and the Will of God: the thesis that God's will is not some mysterious hidden thing which you might miss by accident, but is something revealed through the Bible and through our conscience, and is usually pretty straightforward. This book really impacted me when I was in school. It's a little disturbing to me that it's already 25 years old! It was quite controversial when I first read it. Perhaps less so now?

Can Girly Men withstand a Gurly Wind?

2005-04-08T22:30:00.000-07:00

And now for a Scottish Brogue break: in my reading this week, I came across the following:

When we came out of the church, it was cloudy and dark, and the wind was blowing cold from the sea. The sky was covered with one cloud, but the waves tossing themselves against the rocks, flashed whiteness out of the general gloom. As the tide rose, the wind increased. It was a night of surly temper---hard and gloomy. Not a star cracked the blue above---there was no blue; and the wind was gurly....

George MacDonald, The Seaboard Parish

On a hunch that "gurly" means something other than Schwarzenegger's "Girly-men", I looked this up and found the following song from the Scots Independent online newspaper:

'They hadna sail'd a league, a league
A league but barely three,
When the lift grewe dark and the wind blew loud,
And gurly grewe the sea.'

The page also provided an audio definition of gurly. It'll be my new word for the week.

Strength for the Day, Courage for the Moment

2005-04-04T22:42:00.000-07:00

Yes, I know I've been absent. I only blog when I've been reading MacDonald, and for the last couple of months, I've been parenting and knitting instead of reading and blogging. So tonight, perhaps inspired by some of the meditations I've read about the life of the Pope, I picked up where I left off in George MacDonald's, The Seaboard Parish, and came across this quote, describing the situation where the main character has climbed a steep hill to some ruins, and is looking back whence he came:

Any path seems more difficult in looking back than at the time when the difficulties themselves have to be met and overcome.

This is reminiscent of, but a little different from, CS Lewis in The Screwtape Letters, where Lewis suggests that one is only given strength to deal with the trial of the present moment, rather than strength to deal with all possible (and most likely, contradictory) future trials simultaneously. Often, Lewis points out, the present trial for which one needs strength is the anxiety which comes from the uncertainty about which trial one is going to face in the future.

This past weekend I was clearing out some old files from my graduate school / post-doc days, and was impressed with some of the work I had done back then. "How on earth did I manage all that?" I guess it's an example of GMD's principle described above. I don't know how I did it, but I did whatever I had to do at the time. I don't know if I could go through that again. And that's really what GMD is talking about: re-treading a difficult path. So he really is saying the same thing as Lewis.

Happily (and contradictory to some angst nightmares I have!) I don't have to go through it all again. But if I did, I would find the necessary strength for each day, and the courage for each moment.

Meanwhile I try to remind myself, when it seems like I'm too busy: we all each live 60 seconds (only) every minute. It's just a matter of choice about what to do during each of those 60 seconds. My seconds have been spent elsewhere than the blogosphere for the past few months, but I intend to try to visit a little more often.

Comic Relief

2004-12-10T23:38:00.000-08:00

Well, saw this over at Siris, and couldn't help myself. So the comic super-hero for this blog is:

This seems to have been started over at this blog.

George MacDonald on Bibliolatry

2004-12-10T23:17:00.000-08:00

Sad, indeed, would the whole matter be, if the Bible had told us everything God meant us to believe. But herein is the Bible itself greatly wronged. It nowhere lays claim to be regarded as the Word, the Way, the Truth. The Bible leads us to Jesus, the inexhaustible, the ever unfolding Revelation of God.

George MacDonald, Unspoken Sermons, Series 1, "The Higher Faith"

Recovering from Fundamentalism

2004-12-10T21:00:00.000-08:00

The Word of God

Christian fundamentalists (one of which I was) talk a lot about the "Word of God", by which they almost always mean the Bible, as in the child's chant:

The B-I-B-L-E,
Yes that's the book for me!
I stand alone on the Word of God,
The B-I-B-L-E.

For an adult self-description by fundamentalists, see the Independent Baptist Fellowship definition of fundamentalism:

"We believe that the Holy Bible was written by men supernaturally inspired; that it has truth without any admixture of error for its matter, and therefore is and shall remain to the end of the age the only complete and final revelation of the will of God to man, the true center of Christian union and the supreme standard by which all human conduct, creeds and opinions should be tried."

The Young Earth

I grew up believing that the world was created in six 24-hour periods and that the geneologies in Genesis proved the Universe was no older than about ten thousand years: I once made my high-school biology teacher choke on his own saliva with that one. I also knew, at the age of 14, every flaw in every radiometric dating technique and all of the arguments against an evolutionary interpretation of the fossil record. Our home was a big supporter of the Institute for Creation Research. This indoctrination was pretty strong: it survived in me even through my college and graduate education in physical sciences. Ironically, though my formal education couldn't convince me to allow that life may have evolved over a long time on this planet, CS Lewis did.

"God Said It"

A much more harmful belief was that everything in the Bible which was attributed to God must really have been from God, since the Bible is God-Breathed and contains no error. So for example, when the Bible says that God told King Saul to slaughter the Amalekites, all the "men, women, children and infants, cattle and sheep, camels and donkeys" this "must have been true and must have been good because the Bible says that God said it".

I remember taking Psalm 137 to my father:

"O daughter of Babylon, you devastated one,
How blessed will be the one who repays you
With the recompense with which you have repaid us.

How blessed will be the one who seized and dashes your little ones
Against the rock."

who, in order to maintain his fundamentalism and mine, explained to me that the infants would have grown up Babylonian, worshiping idols and doing all of the other evil things that the Babylonians did. So they were better off dead before they could commit all those sins, and the person that carried out God's word would be blessed in that case.

You know, I understand the Christians who get upset when they are compared to Islamic fundamentalists, but if you follow the reasoning in the paragraph above, the comparison seems justified.

It took me a long, long time to come to this place in my life -- maybe 30 years. But I utterly reject the slaughter of infants as good. The Bible is wrong. George MacDonald finally gave me liberty when I read what he wrote in his Unspoken Sermons:

But let us hear how John reads the Word—hear what is John’s version of the gospel.
‘This then is the message,’ he says, ‘which we have heard of him, and declare unto you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all.’ Ah, my heart, this is indeed the good news for thee! This is a gospel! If God be light, what more, what else can I seek than God, than God himself! Away with your doctrines! Away with your salvation from the ‘justice’ of a God whom it is a horror to imagine! Away with your iron cages of false metaphysics! I am saved—for God is light! My God, I come to thee. That thou shouldst be thyself is enough for time and eternity, for my soul and all its endless need. Whatever seems to me darkness, that I will not believe of my God.

and later in the unspoken sermon (the entire text of which I commend to the reader)

Neither let thy cowardly conscience receive any word as light because another calls it light, while it looks to thee dark. Say either the thing is not what it seems, or God never said or did it. But, of all evils, to misinterpret what God does, and then say the thing as interpreted must be right because God does it, is of the devil. Do not try to believe anything that affects thee as darkness. Even if thou mistake and refuse something true thereby, thou wilt do less wrong to Christ by such a refusal than thou wouldst by accepting as his what thou canst see only as darkness.

Words (for me) to live by.

The Remedy for Evil

2004-12-01T22:34:00.000-08:00

George MacDonald writes in Lilith, chapter 31:

"Annihilation itself is no death to evil. Only good where evil was, is evil dead. An evil thing must live with its evil until it chooses to be good. That alone is the slaying of evil."

This is in contrast to both CS Lewis and Charles Williams, and of course, evangelical Christianity. The latter believes that only eternal punishment is the remedy for evil, or even for people who refused to repent during their life in this world. I've already given my opinion on that belief. CS Lewis portrays in The Great Divorce a picture of unrepentant sinners who in the end are indistinguishable from nothing. Lewis even has his MacDonald guide figure say, in one case, that there is a difference between "A Grumbler" and a "grumble". If there is still "someone" behind the grumbling, then there is a chance to redeem that person. But if all that's left is just the grumbling, "We'll not go on blowing ashes in our faces -- they must be swept up!" I wrote about another (not quite fair) representation of MacDonald by Lewis in an earlier post.

Meanwhile, Charles Williams gives a compelling portrayal of dissolution in Descent Into Hell, where a man on his way to damnation keeps making evil choices, and with each choice finds it harder to make a choice for good. In the end, he has lost his ability to choose anything at all, and seemingly, lost all identity and perhaps existence.

While I enjoy all three pictures (Lewis, Williams and MacDonald), I find MacDonald's assertion the one which is the most compelling.

GMD on Prayer

2004-11-30T20:19:00.000-08:00

One of the topics I enjoy from George MacDonald is that of prayer. In At the Back of the Northwind, in Chapter 30, we are told of an orphan girl, a "crossing sweeper" (who would sweep the street crossings with her broom in return for a few coppers), who has a dream. In the dream, she has an adventure with the man in the moon. At the beginning of the dream, she meets him and sees the stars in the sky, seemingly for the first time in her life:

After this he said nothing for a while, and I laid myself on the floor of his garret, and stared up and around at the great blue beautifulness. I had forgotten him almost, when at last he said: 'Ain't you done yet?' 'Done what?' I asked. 'Done saying your prayers,' says he. 'I wasn't saying my prayers,' I answered. 'Oh, yes, you were,' said he, 'though you didn't know it!

I love the idea of a little pagan girl, adoring creation, and in so doing, adoring the Creator without knowing she is doing so. I identify with her, and so I appreciate George MacDonald attributing something positive to her.

Perhaps this is what the girl saw? Click on the image to see a larger (and more beautiful) version.

GMD compared to St. Paul

2004-11-22T18:27:00.000-08:00

In his book, Lilith, George MacDonald distinguishes his view of how things work a little from Paul. Recall Romans 8:28

"And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those that love God, to those who are called according to His purpose."

Compare this to George MacDonald in Lilith: the guide, a librarian/raven from the other-world described in Lilith gives his the main character instructions, to which this character responds:

"I will try to remember--but I may forget!"
"Then some evil that is good for you will follow."
"And if I remember?"
"Then some evil that is not good for you will not follow."

So while both George MacDonald and Paul assert that all things will work out for good, MacDonald does not distinguish between "those who love God" and others who do not love God (yet). While MacDonald acknowledges evil, he asserts that evil when it occurs will be used for the good of even those it seems to harm.

Atheism discussion continues...

2004-11-18T01:01:00.000-08:00

Atheism seems to be a hot-topic in the blogosphere at the moment. Here are a couple of excellent blogs with posts on the subject: North Western Winds, and, new to my blog-roll, True Grit. The True Grit blogger seems to be engaged in a debate with Austin Cline as well.

Are Animals Atheists?

2004-11-16T20:42:00.000-08:00

In response to my first post asking Is Atheism Livable?, prof rob comments:

I don’t see anything untenable about an atheistic worldview. I believe all other animals are atheistic, and I’ve never seen a suicidal dog. The nature of any species is survival, and I believe religion is often one of those tricks we use to propagate. Why else would all religions have rules for couples? They are ensuring the survival of the species. Without this, however, another system of rules would arise. A species survival is not based on religion. Religion is one of many possible tactics.

I have addressed since then why from a morality perspective and a meaning perspective I am asserting that a self-consistent materialist world-view is not livable. (That's a bit different than saying "tenable". As I claimed in my original off-hand remark which sparked the Cline rebuttals on the atheist website: it is possible to construct a completely self-consistent materialist world view.) There is one more perspective to describe: that of rational thought. But prob rob provides a much needed and light-hearted break from the more serious discussion.

As an aside, I really haven't been saying anything in these posts about religion. I haven't claimed that religion is or is not a source of morality, nor will I contest here that religion arises from the evolutionary imperative. I am merely trying to focus on whether or not one needs something outside of the material universe in order to derive the possibility of morality, meaning, and rational thought.

Prof rob asserts: "all other animals are atheistic". I would translate this as either, "No animal believes in a god" or "All animals believe that there is no god". In either case, he asserts something about animal beliefs. It is not obvious to me that animals have beliefs. Well, my dog seems to believe that she'll get a biscuit everytime I let her in and out of the house. Let me rephrase that--it is not obvious that animals have beliefs about God. (See University of Waterloo's Philosophy 255 course outline on animal beliefs, and Dennett's "Do Animals Have Beliefs" in Comparative Approaches to Cognitive Sciences, MIT Press, 1995.) Actually, I recall reading as a child a very disturbing Mark Twain essay of a dog which seemed to believe in a god -- though the god (her master) was unworthy of the dog's belief.

On the other hand, even if one asserts that an animal has beliefs, no one has information about whether the animal relies on a purely materialist world-view! So I'll leave aside animal beliefs as not particularly relevant to the discussion of a materialist world-view. But I may bring up in a future post, "animal souls".

And finally, yes, prof rob, it's about time to bring this blog back to George MacDonald!

The Source of Meaning for an Atheist

2004-11-15T18:15:00.000-08:00

Cline provides, in his rebuttal to my post about the livability of a self-consistent materialist world-view, one argument for meaning in life: enjoyment of pleasant experiences:

As for myself, the lack of permanence isn't a problem. I doubt that it's normally a problem for donalgrant, either. I'll bet he enjoys good meals, despite the fact that each meal is temporary and has no possible final consequence. I'll bet he enjoys good movies, despite the fact that each movie (or at least the experience of viewing it for the first time) is temporary and has no possible final consequence. Even for non-materialists who believe in an eternal afterlife, most events in their lives are temporary with no possible final consequence — yet, for some strange reason, they don't abandon them as meaningless.

Why? Probably because they enjoy those experiences and value them for what they are, right then and there. I have the same perspective on life. overall It's not permanent. Someday, perhaps today, I'll die and that will be it for me — my memories and personality will disappear as my physical brain dies. Does this logically entail that I cannot value and enjoy what I have right now? Of course not.

In fact, yes I do enjoy good meals, and good movies too. (Are there any out there at the moment?)

One must distinguish between pleasure and meaning, however. Experiences need not be pleasurable to be meaningful. Many of the most meaningful life events are even painful: the birth of a child, a memorial service for a friend, the running of a marathon, fighting a battle, defending a thesis. (Okay that last one maybe doesn't rank up there -- but it was memorable and painful for me!)

So meaning is certainly not tied to pleasure. But Cline is just using this as an example. So let me enlarge his source of meaning in life to "valuing experiences for what they are, right then and there." Let's examine what those experiences are, right then and there, to a materialist.

"Meaning" is association, a way of connecting one thing with another. For example, the meaning of certain letters on a page is the concept of the word they spell. The meaning of a metaphor is the concept represented by it, and the connection between the metaphor and the concept. In other words, meaning is going beyond the mere appearance of a thing, to an implication behind it. "What do you mean?" we say, not when we didn't hear the words, but when we couldn't interpret the message behind the words.

"Meaning" is also provided by consequence and/or memory: this is another version of the "association" of the previous paragraph, where now the interpretation of the event is the consequence of the event, or the association it has in one's memory with other events.

Cline argues that meaning does not rely on permanence. I will counter that "permanent meaning" relies on permanence: survival of a memory of an event or a consequence to that event -- neither of which can be obtained in a materialist universe, as I argued in my earlier post: "We come from supernova dust, we end up as dissipated heat in the entropy death of the universe. What happens between is temporary and has no impact and no possible final consequence."

But what about temporary meaning? Here too the materialist has a difficulty. For there to be meaning in an event, as I have said, there must be an association. But one step more, there must be some truth in the association, or at least, some belief in the truth of the association. My wedding ring is meaningful because it means that my wife loved me when she gave it to me, or at least, that I believe she did. If there is no way for me to believe that there is a relationship (positive or even negative) between the gift of the ring and the love of my wife, then the meaningfulness of the ring ceases to exist.

However, if I am convinced of a purely materialist world-view, then all events, including my own actions and the consequences of those events and actions are either determined, or are random. Even my attempt to make an association between events is either determined or random. If the association is random, then (I assert) there is no meaning, no value to it, no expectation of truth in the association, just as a dictionary which made random associations between groups of letters and concepts would not provide meanings to the words. If, on the other hand, the association is determined, then I had no choice in whether or not to make the association. If I had no choice in making the association, it cannot be "my association", and cannot be a meaning for me.

I recognize that this is abstract, but the world of pure materialism is so far removed from the world of our ordinary experience that one has to be a little abstract. Let me try to illustrate:

The good meal that Cline and I both value (make mine a steak with some good wine!): what are some of the ways in which it might be postulated to be meaningful? Perhaps the meal is associated with the friend who shared the meal, perhaps the meal is associated with the pleasurable memories of taste and satisfaction, perhaps the meal represents my competence because I also cooked it skillfully? (Or maybe the meaning is my incompetence because I cooked it poorly!) Three (of many) examples which might imbue a meal with meaning. What happens when we approach this meal from a strictly materialist point of view?

As a materialist, I am allowed to hold that the association I have for the meal (its meaningfulness to me) is either a random event or was determined. This applies both to the objects of the association (for example, the meal and my incompetence as a cook) as well as the connection between the objects -- the association itself. In the case of the objects, if the meal was a random result over which I could not possibly have had any control, then I cannot maintain that the meal represents any connection to my competence as a cook. On the other hand, if I had no choice but to cook the meal in the way I did -- there was no way for me to "fail" (assuming the competent cook scenario) -- then there is no value in the success, and no meaning in the meal.

Moreover, and more fundamentally, if I understand from the materialist world-view that the association between the meal and my competence is a random event -- then the elements of the association cease to have any relationship to each other. Or if the association was determined without any choice on my part, it ceases to be my meaning for the event: if I have no choice over the associations that occur in my mind, then they are not associations with any particular meaning to me -- they are merely forced upon me.

In robbing people of the ability to choose their own associations, Materialism robs the world of even temporary meaning.

One can do the same analysis with any other postulated meaning of a meal, or any other event. But what really happened? In the beyond-purely-materialist universe, our atheist cooked a meal by making choices about what food to serve, making choices about whom to invite to the meal (perhaps I wouldn't make the cut), and by skillfully making decisions along the way about how to prepare the meal. As she reflects later upon the success of the meal (how much she enjoyed the taste and the compliments she obtained from the guests) she realizes that she hosted an excellent dinner party. She associates the meal itself with her abilities as a chef and the friendships she has. She chooses to maintain that association, and later, when she's depressed about some new ridiculous hate-mail from an irrational theist, she remembers that meal and the memory of her competence and friendships brightens her life.

All meaningful because of the choices she makes -- choices that she could have made otherwise, including the choice to impart meaning to the meal itself. Fortunately for her and for other materialists, she does not dwell day-to-day on the materialist implication that she had no choice in any of her actions. If she did, she would find that a completely self-consistent materialism is not a livable world-view.

The Ethics of an Atheist

2004-11-15T18:14:00.000-08:00

Cline, the guide of the atheism.about.com website, claims to have provided atheist bases for morality, a reason to live and a basis for rationality in the following articles: 1, 2 and 3. I leave it to the interested reader to scan these and find the promised content. What I found, besides lots of criticism of his theist correspondents and their views, was the following argument for atheist morality:

the happiness and suffering of other human beings matter to us such that we should seek, whenever possible, to increase their happiness and decrease their suffering. It's also the "point" that morality is required for human social structures and human communities to survive at all

also:

Marriages don't need gods in order to mean anything - they derive meaning from the people who are married and from their community which has created the institution of marriage. Laws aren't a sham so long as the community creates standards of behavior and holds people to those standards. Morality isn't senseless because we all still have to live together and survive. Gods don't have any necessary connection to any of that.

and the following argument for atheism:

This atheist is better educated and more skeptical as a general rule; they won't be so easily duped by nonsensical claims and they care more about matching their beliefs to reality.

I'd like to look at these individually. I'm going to ignore the last statement, for I do not think it particularly relevant. Nor do I have any intuition or facts (i.e., statistics) for or against the claim. The second statement (relating to marriage and societal laws) can be seen as a subset and reinforcement of the first. So I will deal only with Cline's first paragraph here.

The first statement, which I will try to translate into a more logical argument, is the following:

Assumption: Happiness and Suffering of other human beings matter to us.
Ethical Conclusion: Whenever possible, we should increase their happiness and decrease their suffering.

Note that I will not assume that this is every atheist's ethic, nor even Cline's own ethic (though that is perhaps more likely), but rather an example of an ethic being put forward as something consistent with a completely consistent materialist world-view.

I will not quibble with whether or not the ethical conclusion is a good ethic -- I will accept it as "an ethic". (I.e., does this ethic call for Euthenasia?) However, I have two other difficulties with this argument:

1) The assumption does not follow from a self-consistent materialist world-view.
2) "Whenever possible" may not include any ethical choice for a materialist.

For item (1), I can imagine that Cline would argue, "How dare you challenge my assumption: I am telling you that happiness and suffering of other human beings matters to us." And I am sure it does. But I also assert that this is an inconsistency in the world-view of a professing materialist. Why should happiness and suffering, if they are merely chemical reactions in the brain of a material human object -- a biological machine, matter to us? It is no answer for Cline to say "they do!", for I will counter that "they do because you intrinsically value the human as more than a piece of deterministic (or quantum-mechanically indeterministic) chemistry". If a materialist could choose one way or the other, why should a materialist care more about maintaining the organization (the life) of a human being than the coherence of a crystal-lattice?

My atheist former-boss, in these conversations, claimed that empathy was the key: that the higher creatures are on an evolutionary scale, the more empathy they have with others. A worm has no empathy, a dog may exhibit some (but a cat, none -- just kidding!), and enlightened human beings exhibit great empathy. I'll agree to this observation (not that I know about the inner workings of worms, dogs or very enlightened human beings...), but still maintain that it does not address the materialist dilemna. For a materialist, what is the difference between a sophisticated version of the Eliza program and an empathetic human being? Both obey programming, some of it deterministic, some of it perhaps randomized, but none of it able to make an independent choice, an unforced expression of empathy.

Which leads me to the issue with item (2): "Whenever possible". The problem with the ethic for a materialist of "increasing happiness and decreasing suffering whenever possible" is that the possibility is not under the control of the material being. If there is nothing beyond deterministic, quantum mechanically fluctuating (or even deterministic but chaotic) equations governing the actions of an individual, there is no question of the individual making a choice to increase happiness or decrease suffering. The individual will do whatever those governing physical equations lead her to do. Those governing equations may well be set by society, by her gene code and by external influences in the environment, but what control does she have over them? And if she has no control over them, how can she choose to act ethically?

Indeed, the materialist can make no true choices at all -- all choice is illusion. In which case, one cannot be held responsible for choices in the way in which we normally think. One can only be conditioned by others to change one's biological programming to conform to their desired choices, or be destroyed as a malfunctioning machine. (This is the topic of CS Lewis' excellent The Abolition of Man.)

But from where comes the orginal conditioning? The materialist must answer that is has an "evolutionary origin", which I take to mean that what appear to be ethical choices for the materialist must lead to either:

a) survival of the species, or (what I think may be more current theory, a la The Selfish Gene),
b) propagation of one's own genetic code

This is closely related to the last part of Cline's statement of morality quoted above: "morality is required for human social structures and human communities to survive at all". Again, I will not quibble with the value of "survival of human communities", but I assert that Materialism provides no basis for this value other than the evolutionary imperative. But where does that lead? There are two possibilities:

1) Materialists have a choice to obey the evolutionary imperative -- either (a) or (b) above, or
2) Materialists obey the evolutionary imperative without choice.

I have already asserted that Materialism is inconsistent with the idea of a true choice, so that (1) is not a real possibility. But let's assume that I am wrong, and the Materialist has a real choice whether or not to obey the evolutionary imperative. In that case, what is the Materialist's value behind supporting the evolutionary imperative? Remember, we postulate that the Materialist is free to disobey the imperative. So what is the value of survival of the species, absent "evolution" telling us to survive? If we are just collections of leptons and quarks, photons and gluons, what is the non-evolutionary imperative telling us to preserve one ordering (humanity) of these elements versus another (entropic dust)?

I'm going to be redundant and dwell on this more: it is a circular argument for an atheist to say that one should choose to obey the evolutionary imperative for species survival (or genetic code propagation) in order to have the species survive or the gene code propagate. The materialist has to provide a rationale for why the evolutionary imperative is a positive value. And the materialist view seems to argue, if not in the opposite direction, at least that there is no basis for one value over another. Why not choose maximum "cleanliness" (i.e., the absence of organic slime) as the value. (This "ethic" is described in CS Lewis' That Hideous Strength.) Or perhaps that maximizing light and minimizing matter is the supreme value? Or that maximizing species diversity (at perhaps the great expense of the human race) is the supreme ethic? Or perhaps the materialist perceives that the more advanced species have a greater capability for inflicting and experiencing suffering, and so we should strive for a Universe where only very primitive species, with no capacity for suffering, exist?

As for (2), I assert (will someone contradict me?) that without choice there are no ethics. Ethics are about making choices -- if there are no choices that may be made (in this case, because there are no true "choosers", only conditioned biological entities) then there is no question of ethics, no possibility for morality.

The Materialist Dilemna: a purely material being cannot choose to act ethically, but if it could choose, it would find no basis upon which to make a choice.

Both of these fly in the face of our common intuition and experience, but that is precisely my problem with a materialist world-view. When examined in detail, it is so inconsistent with our experience and values that it is unlivable.

Personal Remarks on Atheism

2004-11-15T16:17:00.000-08:00

While this "atheism thread" seems like a diversion from the focus of this blog, Prof Rob has reminded me that it is an essential part of "recovering from fundamentalism". So let me take some time to reply to the Austin Cline atheism.about.com rebuttal to my previous post.

In this post, I'll make more personal comments, and leave arguments and rebuttals to future posts:

Opinion
First of all, all comments expressed in this blog are opinions, not facts or truths. (In fact, given that I am writing under a pseudonym, there is even some uncertainty as to whether they are even my own true opinions: See Brandon Watson's intriguing article on the subject, especially the section about Kierkegaard and Johannes de Silentio.) Cline complains:

His testimony about what he currently can and cannot imagine about himself should be treated as credible and accepted at face value. His error is in presuming that the same must apply to everyone else in the world, including me. The rest of us, though, are not limited in our possibilities by one person's lack of imagination. If he can't figure out how to ascribe meaning to something non-permanent, that's his problem — not mine.

My statements are of course just opinions, and subject to being informed by Cline or others. Below and continuing, I plan to examine the "information" Cline has provided. I hope that when I state an opinion Cline finds wrong, he (and others) can avoid feeling personally attacked and just enjoy the opportunity to provide an alternative point of view.

Monumental Arrogance
Cline describes me:

like oh-so-many I have encountered in the past, I really don't think that donalgrant has spent any time whatsoever talking to atheists about what they believe, asking them what they think, and then contemplating what that might mean. Instead, he seems to just launch into critiques on a few assumptions about them. I'm sure he's a nice guy and all, but this is why I used the phrase "monumental arrogance" above.

I hope the "personal content" here is not relevant to this discussion. In fact, I have spent a lot of time talking with my atheist friends, including my former-boss whom I described in the last article as one of the wisest and best people I know, and some of whom have been a big part of my leaving fundamentalism behind. My interest in atheism at all, and the opening offhand remark to this discussion about "completely self-consistent atheism not being livable", come from a serious consideration of atheism (and agnosticism) as a belief (or lack of belief) system. My continuation of this discussion, although coming from a theistic bias, represents continued contemplation of what atheists, including Cline, think and mean. It should not be interpreted as a personal assault on atheists when I assert (even without proof!) that it is difficult and perhaps impossible to find a basis for morality, rational thought, and meaning in life within a completely self-consistent materialist world-view. I certainly would not interpret it as a personal assault if Cline were to assert, for example, that physicists from Caltech (one of whom I am) have a poor basis for socialization.

Burden of Proof
Cline says it is my responsibility to prove that atheists do not have a basis for morality, rational thought and meaning in life. Though I've described some motivation behind my assertion (and I'll try to provide more later outside of the "personal comments section"), it is actually pretty hard to prove a negative. For example, I would imagine that Cline might find it impossible to prove that God doesn't exist, and I wouldn't ask him to do so. On the other hand, I think it would be fair for him to ask me if I have any reason to believe that God does exist. (My answer might surprise him!) Similarly, I think it is fair to ask an atheist to provide some basis for things such as "meaning in life", morality and rational thought, assuming that atheist believes he has such. Note that I have not addressed the many problems with theism, for example, the problem of evil and the problem of survival. (Survival in the sense of some continuity of personhood into an afterlife.)

"Not One Shred of Evidence"
...is one of the complaints Cline has against me. It's true -- I did not produce any evidence in this discussion -- nor will I ever. This discussion is not about statistics or observational facts, but about philosophy and argument. There will never be any evidence. Even if I started quoting suicide rates (I have no idea what they are) between theists and atheists, that would only be of passing trivial interest. Anecdotes would be even worse, as would testimony taken under oath -- all things described as "evidence" but not particularly relevant to an argument about the basis of morality, rational thought and meaning in life in a purely material world.

"Not a single logical argument. Nothing."
Cline also complains that I haven't provide logical arguments in support of my assertions in the previous post. In a strict sense, this is true. I've been somewhat lazy -- describing arguments rather than constructing them, and leaving it to the reader to fill in details. That does not invalidate the arguments, and I expect most of the arguments are familiar to folks who read this and are especially familiar to Cline. Meanwhile, it doesn't appear to me that Cline has been any more rigorous than I have in his arguments. Compare his statements in the paragraph above with mine, and see whether his contain superior construction and rigor. This does not excuse me, of course. (But see the burden of proof paragraph above.)

I guess that's enough of the personal remarks. I hope to continue with some more topical discussions after this, including responding to Prof Rob's very interesting comments about "animal atheism".

Is Atheism Livable?

2004-11-12T22:33:00.000-08:00

I seem to have caught the attention of an atheist website (not really my target audience...) which quibbled with an offhand comment I made at the end of Meta Post #2:

I'm sympathetic to healthy skepticism, but while atheism can be made self-consistent, I don't think a completely consistent atheistic world view will be found to be livable.

The complaint is that I misunderstand and misrepresent atheism (actually, I don't think I represented atheism at all in that post). Austin Cline writes:

Guess what? There are millions and millions of people who manage to find those world views to be quite livable. They don't go moping around, wonder what is wrong with themselves and seeking out religious theists to help them out of their "unlivable" conundrum.

Why? Because there is absolutely nothing about atheism that makes a world view unlivable. You don't need a god to have morality or ethics. You don't need a god to have a reason to live. You don't need a god to have a reason to love or enjoy yourself. You don't need a god to be a good citizen, neighbor, husband, mother, or third cousin twice removed.

Believers may find that their theism plays an important role in such things, but it requires monumental arrogance to assume that their god (or some god) is necessary for everyone — and, therefore, atheists must have some difficulty living or constructing a "livable world view." It's a common mental virus: "Everyone who isn't pretty much like me must have something pathologically wrong with them." It's a dismissal of the very conception that people can be different on fundamental issues and yet still manage their lives just fine.

So I guess I'd better respond, lest I propagate the appearance of being "monumentally arrogant". (Well, a little humiliation now and then is good for us all.)

I do not deny that atheists (or buddhists or secular / religious humanists / objectivists) live fine lives, make good neighbors and are happy. In fact, my former boss, an atheist, is probably one of the wisest, kindest, best people I know. And I know plenty of theists who fall into the opposite category.

But my claim in my remarks is that these atheists are not living a "completely consistent atheistic world view". I'm focused especially here on materialism -- the idea that there is nothing outside of the physical world. That all rational thought and morality are merely the expression of electrons in some probabilistic pattern in our brains.

I note that Austin Cline, in his critique, while claiming that "You don't need a god to have a reason to live" does not actually provide a "reason to live". In fact, it is difficult to find a root basis for morality, rational thought (how does an electronic event come to represent an external objective reality?), or even just a "reason to live" in a purely materialistic world. We come from supernova dust, we end up as dissipated heat in the entropy death of the universe. What happens between is temporary and has no impact and no possible final consequence. There is nothing more unique about the organization of matter in a human or animal than in a star or snowflake -- no reason to treat one more carefully than the other.

Wherefore, then should one care about what happens to neighbor, spouse or children? Perhaps we want to avoid pain, so we behave in a way which minimizes pain. But the ultimate escape from pain is suicide. Why not hasten the return to dust, the escape from pain, which is inevitable? After all, as the "dread pirate Roberts" once said, "Life is pain, Princess. Anyone who tells you different is selling something."

No one tries to live this way -- I do not believe that anyone could live this way. But that was precisely the point of my original remark: a completely self-consistent atheist (read, "materialist") world-view is not livable. Atheists live good lives by avoiding the full implications of their own world-view. This shouldn't be surprising: the vast majority of atheists and theists never follow the implications of their own world views. One might argue that the theist's world-view implies an even more difficult -- more painful -- life than the atheists. But it will at least provide a basis for rational thought, for morality, and for the value of life itself.

The atheist/materialist who claims there is nothing outside of the physical world finds herself in a situation illustrated by Mark Tansey, in "Triumph over Mastery II", where the painter is white-washing the Sistine Chapel, and finds that he is painting over his own shadow -- erasing himself from existence. Tansey was focused on art, but the principle he illustrates is more general: the atheist in making an argument for materialism undermines the credibility not only of her own argument, but her ability to make any rational argument at all.

"We interrupt this blog-cast"

2004-11-12T22:10:00.000-08:00

While most of everything written here will be inspired by George MacDonald or themes related to him and disciples of his such as CS Lewis, I cannot help but advertise some beautiful poetry written by Brandon Watson on the Siris blog. George MacDonald wove a lot of poetry into his writings -- poetry which I find much more enjoyable than most of what I read from contemporary authors. (Not that I'm well read!) But Brandon is writing poetry with symbol, rhythm, alliteration, rhyme and redemption. Thoroughly enjoyable both in sound and meaning! Especially The Good of Sorrow and Naked.

Not Exactly "Happily Ever After"!

2004-11-12T21:00:00.000-08:00

I just finished reading George MacDonald's The Princess and Curdie to my son, and had a little surprise at the end of the story. It had been long enough since I had read the book that I had forgotten the final ending.

I was expecting a classic fairy-tale ending, with our hero Curdie and the fair princess Irene being married and living happily ever after. I thought I was reading that ending with the following conclusion to the story:

Irene and Curdie were married. The old king died, and they were king and queen. As long as they lived Gwyntystorm was a better city, and good people grew in it.

But George MacDonald continues on past what would have been a pleasant conclusion, and follows it with this:

But they had no children, and when they died the people chose a king. And the new king went mining and mining in the rock under the city, and grew more and more eager after the gold, and paid less and less heed to his people. Rapidly they sank toward their old wickedness. But still the king went on mining, and coining gold by the pailful, until the people were worse even than in the old time. And so greedy was the king after gold, that when at last the ore began to fail, he caused the miners to reduce the pillars which Peter and they that followed him had left standing to bear the city. And from the girth of an oak of a thousand years, they chipped them down to that of a fir tree of fifty.

One day at noon, when life was at its highest, the whole city fell with a roaring crash. The cries of men and the shrieks of women went up with its dust, and then there was a great silence.

Where the mighty rock once towered, crowded with homes and crowned with a palace, now rushes and raves a stone-obstructed rapid of the river. All around spreads a wilderness of wild deer, and the very name of Gwyntystorm had ceased from the lips of men.

Holy Cow! What was GMD doing with this children's story?! Seems to be sort of a cross between Saul, Midas and Atlantis.

I guess what I take from this (though it does confuse me) is that although George MacDonald believes in God's grace triumphing in the end over man's rebellion, he never minimizes the wickedness he sees, nor the effect of that wickedness. There is no "cheap grace" with George MacDonald.

The Avengers: GMD-->CSL?

2004-11-05T21:00:00.000-08:00

CS Lewis wrote that he had never written a book without quoting from George MacDonald. When I first read that, before I had read any George MacDonald, I assumed Lewis was using hyperbole. Once I began to read MacDonald, I realized that, if anything, Lewis was understating the case.

I ran across what appears to be another example of MacDonald inspiring Lewis during this evening's nightly reading with my son from George MacDonald's The Princess and Curdie. In the chapter, The Vengeance, several "cob's creatures" -- misshapen beasts bred by the goblins in the mines, but now allied with Curdie, wreak vengeance upon the dishonest and faithless servants of the palace household:

The rest of the creatures now came stalking, rolling, leaping, gliding, hobbling into the room, and each as he came took the next place along the wall, until, solemn and grotesque, all stood ranged, awaiting orders.
[...]
'Go at them,' he [Curdie] said.
The whole nine-and-forty obeyed at once, each for himself, and after his own fashion. A scene of confusion and terror followed. The crowd scattered like a dance of flies. The creatures had been instructed not to hurt much, but to hunt incessantly, until everyone had rushed from the house. The women shrieked, and ran hither and thither through the hall, pursued each by her own horror, and snapped at by every other in passing. If one threw herself down in hysterical despair, she was instantly poked or clawed or nibbled up again.
[...]
There they were beginning to congratulate themselves that all was over, when in came the creatures trooping after them, and the second act of their terror and pain began. They were flung about in all directions; their clothes were torn from them; they were pinched and scratched any- and everywhere; Ballbody kept rolling up them and over them, confining his attentions to no one in particular; the scorpion kept grabbing at their legs with his huge pincers; a three-foot centipede kept screwing up their bodies, nipping as he went; varied as numerous were their woes....

This storyline seems to me strikingly similar to CS Lewis' Banquet at Belbury chapter of That Hideous Strength. In that chapter, an entire zoo of animals which had been caged and tormented at the NICE (National Institute for Coordinated Experiments) is released by Merlin and sent to wreak vengeance upon the hapless members of the institute as they finish their evening meal. Here are some extracts from that chapter:

Out of that confusion, with a howl of terror, broke the tiger. It happened so quickly that Mark hardly took it in. He saw the hideous head, the cat's snarl of the mouth, the flaming eyes ....

Then he caught out of the corner of his eye a glimpse of something smaller and greyer. He thought it was an Alsatian. If so, the dog was mad. It ran along the table, its tail between its legs, slavering. A woman, standing with her back to the table, turned, saw it, tried to scream, next moment went down as the creature leaped at her threat. It was a wolf ....

Something else had darted between his feet. Mark saw it streak across the floor and enter the scrum and wake that mass of interlocked terror into new and frantic convulsions. It was some kind of snake ....

Thud--thud--thud; the door was being battered from the outside ... At last the door gave. Both wings gave. The passage, framed in the doorway, was dark. Out of the darkness there came a grey snaky something. It swayed in the air; then began methodically to break off the splintered wood on each side and make the doorway clear. Then Mark saw distinctly how it swooped down, curled itself round a man ... and lifted him bodily high off the floor. After that, monstrous, improbable, the huge shape of the elephant thrust its way into the room: its eyes enigmatic, its ears standing stiffly out like the devil's wings on each side of its head....

In general, my desire here is to look at content discussed by GMD and others, rather than doing some sort of literary dissection (for which I am not qualified!). However, I couldn't help noticing the similarity here, and wondered if any other students of Lewis or MacDonald had noticed this?

The Princess and Curdie is a fairy tale, while Lewis writes in the introduction to That Hideous Strength that he intended the book to be a "modern day fairy tale" as well. One difference between these two episodes is that Lewis' account is far more lethal than MacDonald's: the cobs creatures kill no one, leaving open the possibility of their future reformation. Lewis' avengers kill ruthlessly. Could it be more than a coincidence that this difference is analogous to the difference between the two of them on mankind's eternal destiny? Lewis postulates the possibility, or even the likelihood, that eternal death is the final fate of many, while MacDonald seems unwilling to grant that even the devil is completely beyond the possibility of eventual redemption.

Imaginary Friend (My Favorite Book, Part II)

2004-10-27T21:28:00.000-07:00

My son announced yesterday that he has an Imaginary Friend. After discussing this with him for awhile, I began to think about some of what I'd been reading both from George MacDonald and also in the blogosphere, where someone was comparing God to an imaginary friend. [Update: It was Bill Maher, as quoted in the Thinklings Weblog.] In my favorite book, At the Back of the North Wind (for which this blog is named) there is a haunting passage towards the end, where little Diamond meets the beautiful wise woman, North Wind, after a long time apart. He's troubled by the thought that she might be only an imaginary friend:

"Please, dear North Wind," he said, "I am so happy that I'm afraid it's a dream. How am I to know that it's not a dream?"

"What does it matter?" returned North Wind.

"I should, cry" said Diamond.

"But why should you cry? The dream, if it is a dream, is a pleasant one -- is it not?"

"That's just why I want it to be true."

"Have you forgotten what you said to Nanny about her dream?"

"It's not for the dream itself -- I mean, it's not for the pleasure of it," answered Diamond, "for I have that, whether it be a dream or not; it's for you, North Wind; I can't bear to find it a dream, because then I should lose you. You would be nobody then, and I could not bear that. You ain't a dream, are you, dear North Wind? Do say No, else I shall cry, and come awake, and you'll be gone for ever. I daren't dream about you once again if you ain't anybody."

"I'm either not a dream, or there's something better that's not a dream, Diamond," said North Wind, in a rather sorrowful tone, he thought.

"But it's not something better -- it's you I want, North Wind," he persisted, already beginning to cry a little.

CS Lewis describes this longing in both Surprised by Joy and A Pilgrim's Regress. In Regress, Lewis' vision of the transcendent is a far off Island. The protagonist complains, when he learns that his search for the Island seems to be leading him to God and Christianity, that what he believes he is searching for is more of a place, not a person. Just as Diamond tells North Wind, "it's you I want, North Wind, not something better."

After more dialogue and a long pause, North Wind finally answers Diamond:

"I think," said she, after they had been sitting silent for a while, "that if I were only a dream, you would not have been able to love me so."

So that, not only is the Imaginary Friend, the Far-off Island, or any of the other inumerable forms that the Longing for Joy takes (for me it can be a mountain, a hiking trail, a sailboat), a symbol of something that is better, but there must be something real in the symbol that we will meet in the "something better".

And this dialogue with North Wind, this understanding of a longing for something that doesn't seem as first blush to be God, is another reason why At the Back of the North Wind is my favorite book.