Okay, I take your point, but I guess I was asking, is it all naturalistic, or is there purpose, is there a kind of universal will, some call God, others use more New Age descriptors to describe it and others find solace in science? You described a naturalistic process without will or purpose, suggesting that life is little more than natural fate. It all just happens. I guess this is the antithesis of the Mr G and others versions where they see a clockwork universe run by a master clock maker, just for them.
If it is all naturalistic and nature determines we find paths of reciprocity, empathy and common goals, to a degree, then :-
All the world’s a stage,And all the men and women merely players;They have their exits and their entrances,And one man in his time plays many parts,His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchelAnd shining morning face, creeping like snailUnwillingly to school. And then the lover,Sighing like furnace, with a woeful balladMade to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,Seeking the bubble reputationEven in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,In fair round belly with good capon lined,With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,Full of wise saws and modern instances;And so he plays his part. The sixth age shiftsInto the lean and slippered pantaloon,With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wideFor his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,Turning again toward childish treble, pipesAnd whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,That ends this strange eventful history,Is second childishness and mere oblivion,Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
