time

Time is running out for my friend. While we are sitting at lunch she casually mentions she and her husband are thinking of starting a family. "We're taking a survey,"she says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"
　　"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral. "I know,"she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous holidays..."
　　But that's not what I mean at all. I look at my friend, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will be vulnerable forever.
　　I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without thinking: "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die. I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub.
　　I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for child care, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting, and she will think her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her child is all right.
　　I want my friend to know that every decision will no longer be routine. That a five-year-old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at a restaurant will become a major dilemma. The issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in the lavatory. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
　　Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the added weight of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her own life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. She would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more yearsnot to accomplish her own dreamsbut to watch her children accomplish theirs.
　　I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to hit a ball. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it hurts.
　　My friend's look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I say finally. Then, squeezing my friend's hand, I offer a prayer for her and me and all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this holiest of callings.

Cryptic Coloring

Cryptic coloring is by far the commonest use of color in the struggle for existence. It is employed for the purpose of attack (aggressive resemblance or anticryptic coloring ) as well as of defense (protective resemblance or procryptic coloring ). The fact that the same method concealment, may be used both for attack and defense has been well explained by T.Belt who suggests as an illustration the rapidity of movement which is also made use of by both pursuer and pursued, which is similarly raised to a maximum in both by the gradual dying out of the slowest through a series of generations. Cryptic coloring is commonly associated with other aids in the struggle for life. Thus well-concealed mammals and birds, when discovered, will generally endeavor to escape by speed and will often attempt to defend themselves actively. On the other hand, small animals which have no means of active defense, such as large, numbers of insects, frequently depend upon concealment alone. Protective resemblance is far commoner among animals than aggressive resemblance, in correspondence with the fact that predaceous forms are as a rule much larger and much less numerous than their prey. In the case of insectivorous Vertebrata and their prey such differences exist in an exaggerated form. Cryptic coloring, whether used for defense of attack, may be either general or special. In general resemblance the animal, in consequence of its coloring, produces the same effect as its environment, but the conditions do not require any special adaptation of shape and outline. General resemblance is especially common among the animal inhabiting some uniformly colored expanse of the earth’s surface, such as an ocean or a desert. In the former, animals of all shapes are frequently protected by their transparent blue color, on the latter, equally diverse forms are defended by their sandy appearance. The effect of a uniform appearance may be produced by a combination of tints in startling contrast. Thus the black and white stripes of the zebra blend together at a little distance, and “their proportion is such as exactly to match the pale tint which arid ground possesses when seen by moonlight.” Special resemblance is far commoner than general and is the form which is usually met with on the diversified surface of the earth, on the shores, and in shallow water, as well as on the floating masses of algae on the surface of the ocean, such as the Sargasso Sea. In these environments the cryptic coloring of animals is usually aided by special modifications of shape, and by the instinct which leads them to assume particular attitudes. Complete stillness and the assumption of a certain attitude play an essential part in general resemblance on land; but in special resemblance the attitude is often highly specialized, and perhaps more important than any other element in the complex method by which concealment is effected. In special resemblance the combination of coloring, shape, and attitude is such as to produce a more or less exact resemblance to some one of the objects in the environment, such as a leaf of twig, a patch of lichen, a flake of bark. In all cases the resemblance is to some object which is of no interest to the enemy or prey respectively. The animal is not hidden from view by becoming indistinguishable from its background as in the case of general resemblance, but it is mistaken for some well-know object.

In seeking the interpretation of these most interesting and elaborate adaptations, attempts have been made along two lines. The first seeks to explain the effect as a result of the direct influence of the environment upon the individual (G.L.L.Buffon), or by the inherited effects of efforts and the use and disuse of parts (J.B.P.Lamarck). The second believes that natural selection produced the result and afterwards maintained it by the survival of the best concealed in each generation. The former suggestion breaks down when the complex nature of numerous special resemblances is appreciated. Thus the arrangement of colors of many kinds into an appropriate pattern requires the cooperation of a suitable shape and the rigidly exact adoption of a certain elaborate attitude. The latter is instinctive and thus depends on the central nervous system. The cryptic effect is due to the exact cooperation of all these factors; and in the present state of science, the only possible hole of an interpretation lies in the theory of natural selection, which can accumulate any and every variation which tends toward survival. A few of the chief types of methods by which concealment is effected may be briefly described. The colors of large numbers of vertebrate animals are darkest on the back and become gradually lighter on the sides, passing into white on the belly. Abbot H. Thayer has suggested that this gradation obliterates the appearance of solidity, which is due to shadow. The color harmony, which is also essential to concealment, is produced because the back is of the same tint as the environment (e. g. earth), bathed in the cold blue-white of the sky, while the belly, being cold blue-white and bathed in shadow and yellow earth reflections produces the same effects. This method of neutralizing shadow for the purpose of concealment by increased lightness of tint was first suggested by E.B.Poulton in the case of a larva and a pupa, but he did not appreciate the great importance of the principle. In an analogous method an animal in front of a background of dark shadow may have part of its body obliterated by the existence of a dark tint, the remainder resembling, e.g., a part of a leaf. This method of rendering invisible any part which would interfere with the resemblance is well know in mimicry.

Love

anger- the rage of not knowing what to do
Fear- the thought of life and death
Sadness-the empty heart
Love-the pain and the joy
But love is different
Love is something precious and something special
Something you can hardly find
Love is the feeling of pain happiness and the gather of all emotions
When you are in love you go crazy you feel every emotion you can you feel weak missing your love missing the person you truly love
Love is finding the missing part of you life puzzle
So never let go of love for any little thing because it will never be replaced
And you will soon regret every moment in life that passes you by alone
So stay strong the distance the arguments the jealously the pain
The confusions are nothing don’t let go of your true love.....

Religion and Rationality

Yet the difference in tome and language must strike us, so soon as it is philosophy that speaks: that change should remind us that even if the function of religion and that of reason coincide, this function is performed in the two cases by very different organs. Religions are many, reason one. Religion consists of conscious ideas, hopes, enthusiasms, and objects of worship; it operates by grace and flourishes by prayer. Reason, on the other hand, is a mere principle or potential order, on which indeed we may come to reflect but which exists in us ideally only, without variation or stress of any kind. We conform or do not conform to it; it does not urge or chide us, not call for any emotions on our part other than those naturally aroused by the various objects which it unfolds in their true nature and proportion. Religion brings some order into life by weighting it with new materials. Reason adds to the natural materials only the perfect order which it introduces into them. Rationality is nothing but a form, an ideal constitution which experience may more or less embody. Religion is a part of experience itself, a mass of sentiments and ideas. The one is an inviolate principle, the other a changing and struggling force. And yet this struggling and changing force of religion seems to direct man toward something eternal. It seems to make for an ultimate harmony within the soul and for an ultimate harmony between the soul and all that the soul depends upon. Religion, in its intent, is a more conscious and direct pursuit of the Life of Reason than is society, science, or art, for these approach and fill out the ideal life tentatively and piecemeal, hardly regarding the foal or caring for the ultimate justification of the instinctive aims. Religion also has an instinctive and blind side and bubbles up in all manner of chance practices and intuitions; soon, however, it feels its way toward the heart of things, and from whatever quarter it may come, veers in the direction of the ultimate.

Nevertheless, we must confess that this religious pursuit of the Life of Reason has been singularly abortive. Those within the pale of each religion may prevail upon themselves, to express satisfaction with its results, thanks to a fond partiality in reading the past and generous draughts of hope for the future; but any one regarding the various religions at once and comparing their achievements with what reason requires, must feel how terrible is the disappointment which they have one and all prepared for mankind. Their chief anxiety has been to offer imaginary remedies for mortal ills, some of which are incurable essentially, while others might have been really cured by well-directed effort. The Greed oracles, for instance, pretended to heal out natural ignorance, which has its appropriate though difficult cure, while the Christian vision of heaven pretended to be an antidote to our natural death—the inevitable correlate of birth and of a changing and conditioned existence. By methods of this sort little can be done for the real betterment of life. To confuse intelligence and dislocate sentiment by gratuitous fictions is a short-sighted way of pursuing happiness. Nature is soon avenged. An unhealthy exaltation and a one-sided morality have to be followed by regrettable reactions. When these come. The real rewards of life may seem vain to a relaxed vitality, and the very name of virtue may irritate young spirits untrained in and natural excellence. Thus religion too often debauches the morality it comes to sanction and impedes the science it ought to fulfill.

What is the secret of this ineptitude? Why does religion, so near to rationality in its purpose, fall so short of it in its results? The answer is easy; religion pursues rationality through the imagination. When it explains events or assigns causes, it is an imaginative substitute for science. When it gives precepts, insinuates ideals, or remoulds aspiration, it is an imaginative substitute for wisdom—I mean for the deliberate and impartial pursuit of all food. The condition and the aims of life are both represented in religion poetically, but this poetry tends to arrogate to itself literal truth and moral authority, neither of which it possesses. Hence the depth and importance of religion becomes intelligible no less than its contradictions and practical disasters. Its object is the same as that of reason, but its method is to proceed by intuition and by unchecked poetical conceits.