“Real life seeks the gentle slopes at the back of Mount Improbable,
while creationists are blind to all but the daunting precipice at the front.”
Sindh
Monday, 31 March 2025
“Real life seeks the gentle slopes at the back of Mount Improbable ..... ” Richard Dawkins ----- AKSHR
“The word ‘mundane’ has come to mean ‘boring’ and ‘dull’, ..... ” Richard Dawkins --- AKSHR
“The word ‘mundane’ has come to mean ‘boring’ and ‘dull’, and it
really shouldn’t - it should mean the opposite. Because it comes from the Latin
mundus, meaning ‘the world’. And the world is anything but dull: The world is
wonderful. There’s real poetry in the real world. Science is the poetry of
reality.”
“Fundamentalist religion is hell-bent on ruining the scientific education --- Richard Dawkins --- AKSHR
“Fundamentalist religion is hell-bent on ruining the scientific
education of countless thousands of innocent, well-meaning, eager young minds.
Non-fundamentalist, ‘sensible’ religion may not be doing that. But it is making
the world safe for fundamentalism by teaching children, from their earliest years,
that unquestioning faith is a virtue.”
Saturday, 29 March 2025
"Prayer does not change God, but it changes him who prays." — Soren Kierkegaard --- AKSHR
"Prayer does not change God, but it changes him who
prays." — Soren Kierkegaard
A whispered plea, a fervent sigh,
A soul's embrace beneath the sky.
No mountain shifts, no star takes flight,
But in the heart, a wondrous light.
For prayer, it's not a sculptor's hand,
To mold the heavens, understand.
It shapes the soul, it stills the storm,
And whispers peace, a gentle form.
The deity remains serene,
Unmoved by supplication keen.
But in the soul, a change takes hold,
A story woven, brave and bold.
The heart, once fractured, finds its mend,
With faith's soft touch, a whispered trend.
The spirit soars, the spirit grows,
As prayer's sweet balm the sorrow flows.
No power shifts, no throne is swayed,
But hope's soft ember, brightly played.
The supplicant, transformed by grace,
Finds strength within, a tranquil space.
So pray, dear soul, with heart so true,
For in the act, a change anew.
Not God's vast form, but yours, is changed,
By love's soft touch, a peace exchanged.
"This is my simple religion...... — Dalai Lama ---- AKSHR
"This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no
need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple;
the philosophy is kindness."
— Dalai Lama
No gilded halls, no sacred plea,
No intricate creed, for you and me.
A simpler faith, a gentle art,
Within the heart, a tender start.
Our minds, a temple, vast and deep,
Where wisdom blooms, where secrets sleep.
Our hearts, a shrine, with love alight,
Kindness the flame, burning ever bright.
No need for priests, or scripture old,
Just acts of grace, a story told.
Compassion's touch, a helping hand,
A whispered word, across the land.
For in this world, of joy and strife,
A single act, of gentle life,
Can mend a soul, and ease the pain,
A kindness shown, will conquer all again.
No need for dogma, grand and vast,
Our temple built, within our cast.
Of empathy, and understanding's art,
A simple truth, within the heart.
"Religion doesn't make people bigots. ..... " — Reza Azlan --- AKSHR
"Religion doesn't make people bigots.
People are bigots and they use religion to justify their ideology."
— Reza Azlan
A gilded cage, a whispered creed,
Where faith takes root, and shadows breed.
Religion's balm, a soothing sound,
But hearts are stained, and darkness bound.
No holy text, nor sacred rite,
Forgets the darkness, hides the blight.
The seeds of hate, within us sown,
Find fertile ground, where bigotry's grown.
The preacher's words, the hymns so high,
May mask the venom in the eye.
A twisted lens, a warped design,
To justify the hateful shrine.
For bigotry, a festering sore,
Lies not in scripture, but within the core.
The heart's cold fire, the judging glance,
Are primal forces, time and chance.
Religion's cloak, a borrowed grace,
To hide the demons in this place.
The stained-glass windows, painted bright,
Can't wash the darkness from the night.
The faithful flock, with pious zeal,
May unknowingly the hateful steal.
For prejudice, a wicked art,
Is woven deep within the heart.
So let us see, beyond the veil,
The truth that hides, the wounds prevail.
Not in the dogma, old and worn,
But in the hearts, where hate is born.
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