Driving to the Sea of Galilee today in sunshine, after the rains we have all been hoping for, we passed hills and fields of green green green, a flourishing Eretz Yisrael of wildflowers. And on the way home, as the sun was beginning to set, each flower glowed its own luminous red miracle. Or equation. Or chancy wierd random chaotic serendipitous splash. Or blossoming expression of an angel's gentle, "Grow! Grow!". Or evolutionarily adapted pigmentation sample refined by generations of victorious bee-attracting championship, let the fittest flower survive to reproduce into dazzling fields of sunlit delight. A field of pretty flowers proves each person's point of view: "And here is an example of evolution at its finest". Or, "proof exquisite of a divine designer". Or, "fractal geometry blossoms again". "Just look at this field of wildflowers. They prove my point."
And the flowers just smile wisely, knowing beyond knowing.
Or, more clearly, not needing to know.
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