What to one person is a relic to
another is a wizened bone.
Then one year he suddenly remembered
his aging mother's request. Passing the skeleton of a dog by the side
of the road, he removed a tooth, and told his mother it came straight
from the Buddha’s mouth. His mother was overjoyed, and her crone
friends came to pray at the shrine she had made for the tooth.
Religion, philosophy, art-in-depth
take place on the verge of
Faith in the unknown is the miracle and the madness; however, consciousness judders in a liminal state. So Webb pointed out that the warming predicted for the next century is on the same scale as the temperature difference between the last glaciation and today. ‘You know that’s going to give us a very different landscape,’ he said. I asked what he thought this landscape would look like. He said he didn’t know—his central finding, from more than thirty years of research, is that systems of belief pall under the spell of their own lapidarian myths, just as history scores the specter of its larval dreams as allusions to images and words.