Vaclav Smil on Nuclear Power Micro Reactors

I can't recall whether it was Doomberg or Robert Bryce who first drew my attention to Vaclav Smil.

Vaclav Smil educates the reader by explaining how interwoven the use of fossil fuels is with the functioning of modern society. He adeptly discusses the challenges with replacing fossil energy with the current generation of renewables (such as PV, wind, the out-of-favor nuclear, and nearly tapped out hydro) due to the scope of the existing infrastructure. This infrastructure cannot be replaced in a decade or two.
--C. Haynam

This author gives in his book what are the four pillars of our civilisation: concrete, steel, ammonia and plastic. It explains in concrete terms the reasons for that. Also, it demonstrate these four pillars depend heavily on fossil fuel. 
--MathEnthusiast

Václav Smil is a prominent Canadian scientist and policy analyst who has written extensively on various topics, including energy, environment, and technological change. His views on nuclear energy are nuanced and reflect a balanced perspective on its potential and challenges. Here are some of the key points he makes on this important topic.

Potential for Clean Energy

Smil acknowledges that nuclear energy has the potential to provide a significant amount of low-carbon energy, which is crucial for mitigating climate change. He notes that nuclear power generates electricity with minimal direct emissions of greenhouse gases compared to fossil fuels.

Technological and Economic Challenges

Smil points out the substantial challenges associated with nuclear energy, including the high costs of building and maintaining nuclear power plants. He emphasizes the economic difficulties, such as cost overruns and long construction times, which have plagued the industry.

Role in the Energy Transition

Smil sees nuclear energy as part of a broader mix of solutions needed for a sustainable energy future. He argues that while nuclear power alone cannot solve the global energy challenge, it can complement other renewable energy sources like wind and solar to provide a more stable and reliable energy supply.

Here is Professor Smil's website. vaclavsmil.com

He's someone with something to say, and he's saying it. 51 books, 500 papers and more. 

Related Links

Vaclav Smil's Made in the USA: The Rise and Retreat of American Manufacturing Is A Humbling Warning

Things People Don't Realize About Wind Energy and Why We Can't Shut Down Oil Production

Small Reactors, Big Potential Impact: NANO Nuclear Microreactors Shaping the Future of Energy Infrastructure

 

The "300 Wins" Club and Other Miscellaneous Baseball Notes

For some reason baseball has been on my mind this weekend. I suspect that something caused me to think about Nolan Ryan, the Astros hurler whose fastball was clocked at 108 miles per hour. That's little more than the blink of an eye when you're in the batter's box. 

One of the amazing things about Nolan Ryan was his longevity. He was still throwing overpowering fastballs in his forties, retiring at age 46. In addition to being a Hall of Famer with 5714 strikeouts, he was also a member of the "300-win club," a distinction reached by only 24 pitchers in Major League Baseball history. (Ryan retired with 324 wins.)

Reading that stat brought to mind memories of a couple other members of that elite club whom I actually saw pitch, Early Wynn and Tom Seaver. I saw Wynn in Cleveland in 1963 as he was chasing his 300th win. I was 10 going on 11. We had box seats a stone's throw from the Cleveland dugout. It was a sunny afternoon, the stadium packed in hopes of witnessing hisory and the grass was very green. I remember thinking he looked old and a bit stocky, not like the lean younger players I'd seen. The Indians lost that day but Wynn captured he's 300th in Kansas City within weeks and hung up his cleats. He'd achieved his milestone.

Tom Seaver of the New York Mets was another member of the 300-win club whom I saw. The Mets were one of the new expansion teams created in the Sixties, notoriously inept in their first years, but loved by their fans. I remember painting a banner for one of their many Banner Days. Their transformation from a comic opera to World Series Champions by the end of the decade was quite stunning. Tom Seaver was a major factor in the Mets' success with 25 wins and a 2.21 ERA, which is pretty much golden.

The game I saw him pitch was a double-header against the Pittsburgh Pirates. The Pirates were a favorite team of mine due to the fact that their rightfielder, Roberto Clemente, was my favorite player. The Puerto Rican Clemente was an exceptional man as well as an exceptional ballplayer, and the tickets we purchased for the game were intentionally down the right field line so Clemente could be in my direct line of sight. But since we're talking about pitchers, I seem to have digressed.

Tom Seaver pitched the first game, going head-to-head with Bob Veale of the Pirates, who was himself a formidable pitcher. Standing 6'6" Veale was one of the National League's strikeout leaders in the 60s, and top dog in strikeouts in 1964. Needless to say it was a boring game as far as action goes, and the home team won one to nothing. No problem with that. It was a double-header and the second game was full of action. Final score: 11-9.

Other pitching greats coming to mind now include Cy Young, Sam McDowell and Catfish Hunter. Cy Young's stats defy comprehension. Each year the Baseball Writers' Association of America select one pitcher from each league (American and National) to receive the Cy Young Award in honor of Young, who pitched from 1890 to 1911 and racked up an insurmountable pile of winning games during his 21 year career, 511 in all.

Today, starting pitchers seldom go beyond the 7th inning. Decisions are made by pitch counts. In baseball's early years hurlers would keep pitching till the game was over, which might take 15 or 20 innings. In 1920, Joe Oeschger of the Braves and Leon Cadre of Brooklyn pitched 26 innings before leaving a 1-1 tie on the scoreboard. They didn't have lights light today, so when it was too dark to see they had to call it. It was the longest game ever. 

The Cleveland Indians were a team with many pitching greats, among them Hall of Famers Bob Lemon and Bob Feller. When "Sudden Sam" McDowell joined the Indians in 1961 expectations ran high. He was a 6'5" fireballer who in high school pitched 9 no-hitters and once struck out all 27 batters he faced in a single game. He was precisely what the bumbling Indians needed to recover a measure of dignity and hope for fans. Unfortunately it was too weighty of a load for the young "potential" star. As we all know, when expectations run high, not everyone can handle the pressure, and in McDowell's case he succumbed to alcoholism. An unfortunate injury also contributed to his failure to live up to expectations. On one occasion he was pitching a fastball so hard that he cracked three ribs. (You have to know a little about the mechanics of pitching to understand how that could happen.) At the time of his retirement, his strikeout rate of 8.86 per nine innings was bested by only two pitchers: Nolan Ryan and Sandy Koufax.   

Jim "Catfish" Hunter will be the last pitcher in my spotlight today. A Hall of Famer, and Cy Young Award winner with a stellar career, he was the only pitcher since 1915 to win 200 games by age 31. He has the distinction of being baseball's first "big money" free agent. At 33 his career was shortened by arm troubles. In 1987, after being diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's Disease (ALS) he died within a year. Bob Dylan wrote a tribute song to Catfish that still lives on.

Related Link
It Happens Every Spring: Baseball and Duluth Dylan Fest 2026

The Individual and the Crowd: Nietzsche's Take

When I was in college studying philosophy, I purchased a copy of Friedrich Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil. When I got home I noticed something unusual about the book. It began on page 16, then went to pages 15, 14, 13 etc to the Title Page. It was a most unusual way to read a book, I thought. 

Several years later I worked briefly in a printshop that published books and discovered how that error occurred. The way books are assembled involves printing sheets of paper with 12, 16, 24 or 32 pages on a sheet (with printing on both sides) which is then folded into what are called signatures. These are then collated so that they can be assembled in their proper order by another machine which stitches them together after which they are trimmed and boxed. 

For whatever reason, the publishing house somehow got the first signature backward, thereby creating a "memorable moment" with regards to Nietzsche.

I am in no way going to agree with everything Nietzsche wrote, or what has been attributed to him, but he's certainly been an acute observer of human nature. He also wrote with a keen wit and pointed pen. I say this as a preface to a few comments he made on individuals and crowds.

There is a tension that runs through human history, one that never quite goes away. It is the tension between the individual and the crowd. Because we live in social relationships with others, what happens when our private beliefs are out of sync with the dominant belief systems?

Nietzsche saw it clearly. In Beyond Good and Evil, he wrote, “The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe.” It is a simple observation, but one that carries more truth than we might like to admit.

As social creatures, we long to belong. The pull of the group—whether it be political, cultural, or ideological—is powerful. It offers identity, approval, and a ready-made way of seeing the world. To stand apart can be costly, especially today.

Nietzsche presses the point further: “Madness is rare in individuals—but in groups, parties, nations, and ages it is the rule.” Fifty years later the world experienced global tremors as a result of the national madness of the Third Reich. 

Crowds do not merely amplify ideas; they intensify them. They simplify, reduce, and often distort. What might seem unreasonable to a lone person can, in the momentum of a group, begin to feel not only acceptable, but necessary. 

This is where the work of Gustave Le Bon comes into play which I wrote about earlier this past month. In that particular blog post I was addressing crowd behavior, especially mobs. But there is a subtler aspect to crowd pressures on individuals. That is, the expectations of peers. In high school you may have been expected to go to college. As a result, many go who really aren't ready or aren't even college material. Their reward is not career success but rather the handicap of college debt. 

And today, peer pressure can come from people we've never met other than through their handles on social media. 

Expectations driven by peer pressure can cloud one's thinking. When we make life decisions based on what others expect of us, we can spend a lot of time kicking ourselves afterwards.

Nietzsche makes another observation that can be unsettling: “He who cannot obey himself will be commanded.” Self-mastery is not a popular idea. It requires discipline, reflection, and a willingness to stand alone when necessary. And a willingness to be misunderstood.

Without a sense of calling or purpose, we become susceptible—open to being shaped by whatever voice speaks the loudest or the most persuasively. Hint: God speaks in a still, small voice.*

The crowd isn't always wrong, but it is rarely careful. To live thoughtfully requires a kind of resistance—not rebellion for its own sake, but the quiet work of examining what we believe and why. It means holding fast to conscience, even when it is inconvenient.

In the end, the question is not whether we will be influenced. We all are. The question is whether we will be governed from within… or from without. 

*1 Kings 19:11-13

All the Pretty Horses, Revisited

THROWBACK THURSDAY

In 2009 I watched  All the Pretty Horses after having read Cormac McCarthy’s superb book the previous year. I  picked up the film when I stumbled upon it at Blockbuster. (Remember Blockbuster? Seems like a lifetime ago.) Billy Bob Thornton directed the film starring Matt Damon and Penelope Cruz and released in Y2K. Whether it was short lived in theaters because of bad reviews or poor marketing, it sure seems like a good “big screen” film with its Mexican vistas and panoramic camera work.

It’s a coming of age story with two teens from San Antonio heading south o’ the border to find work and, perhaps, adventure. John Grady Cole is the central character (Damon) in this story of innocence lost. The film remains faithful to the the book for the most part. And maybe that is what carries the film because it is a powerful story.

Some aspects of the movie were formulaic. The usual Hollywood plot twist occurs at 25-27 minutes.

If you watch any film on DVD, check out the elapsed time when the plot turns, and you will find, nine times out of ten, that this is so. It’s called writing by the book. The book, by the way, is Syd Field's Screenplay. This is the book 1990's Disney producer Robert Schwartz sent to me when I wrote my first of three Hollywood screenplays... none reaching the silver screen. Producers, decision makers, will turn to pages 25-27 to see “what happens” with the assumption that any screen writer who knows what he’s doing will make this part of the movie into a plot twist. Instead of reading a whole screenplay, the length being one page per minute of screen time, they take a short cut. Once you see this skeletal frame, you may have difficulty closing the curtain again for a while.) Anyways, Thornton’s film follows the formula. And if you wish to take an original approach to writing screen plays, you'll discover this is why the best creative screenwriters have had to go outside the system.

Damon’s performance drew sharp criticism from reviewers. but I didn't expect a lot so I ended up surprised. The romance between Cole (Damon) and Cruz had a suppressed steaminess that was believable. 

The film did a good job of portraying the collision of cultures in their relationship. Like the book, his heart is cut out and filleted by the series of events that proceed naturally from the opening decision to go south.

McCarthy’s characters are always superbly crafted in his books and the settings so vivid you are easily and longingly transported. In the film, the scenes and settings are honest replicas of reality, and one is not distracted by any false notes anywhere in the film, other than the fact that Damon and his friend Lacy Rawlings look a bit older than the 16-year-olds they were purportedly portraying.

After years of writing darker, more brutal works (like Blood Meridian, 1985), McCarthy turned toward something more accessible—without abandoning his depth. In 1992 this novel became the opening of his Border Trilogy, widening his audience while keeping his philosophical concerns intact.

As regards the book, here’s a paragraph from a reviewer at amazon.com that summarizes my impressions of the All the Pretty Horses:

“Many people compare, fairly or no, Cormac McCarthy's "All the Pretty Horses" to William Faulkner's literary work. What is neglected is the strain of Flannery O'Connor that runs throughout the novel as well. At any rate, "Horses" more than stands on its own as a startling achievement. It's prose is more accessible than Faulkner, and its themes less esoteric than O'Connor. "Horses" is an immaculate novel, dealing with the extreme facets of the everyday and the ways in which people become who they are.” ~ Melvin Pena

Of the images on this page, ChatGPT created the top illustration based on a horse head I'd painted the year before, acrylic on paper. The photo below was taken in Kodak Ektachrome near a river west of Cuernavaca, Mexico, in the spring of 1981. It was a beautiful horse. (As always, click to enlarge.)

Lucy's Encounter with "The Magician's Book" in Voyage of the Dawn Treader

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is probably my favorite of the seven volumes of C.S. Lewis' The Chronicles of Narnia. One reason this volume is so popular is because of Reepicheep, the courageous, swashbuckling leader of The Talking Mice of Narnia. This blog post, however, is about an incident involving Lucy on the Island of the Dufflepuds.

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (1952) is the fifth book in the series (by publication order). The chapter involving Lucy and the magical book is one of my favorite episodes, both pivotal and richly symbolic. It occurs in Chapter 10, which is aptly titled “The Magician’s Book,” when Lucy, Edmund, and Caspian, aboard the ship Dawn Treader, visit the Island of the Dufflepuds (also called the Monopods or Duffers) and encounter the magician Coriakin’s house. 

All readers of this series understand that nearly everything in these stories is o be taken allegorically. In this chapter Lucy, Edmund, and Caspian, along with their crew, land on this island inhabited by the comically inept Dufflepuds, invisible creatures who were made so by their master, the magician Coriakin, as a punishment for their disobedience. (For the record, Lucy and Edmund are children from our world and Caspian is a prince from the world of Narnia.)

The Dufflepuds, believing Lucy is brave enough to face the magician, demand she enter his house to reverse the spell of invisibility by reading from the magician's magical book. Lucy, somewhat apprehensive, agrees to undertake the task alone, as the others are wary of the magician’s power.

When Lucy enters Coriakin’s grand, mysterious house, she ascends to a room filled with books, artifacts, and an atmosphere of enchantment. In the center of the room is a large, ancient book—the Magician’s Book—bound in leather, and filled with spells written in beautiful, clear script. The pages are alive with magic, and Lucy must find the spell to make the Dufflepuds visible again. 

As she turns the pages, she encounters a variety of spells, including one to “know what other people think of you,” one to make someone beautiful “beyond the lot of mortals,” and another to cure warts. The book’s pages seem to turn on their own at times, adding to its mystical aura.

As she leafs through the pages Lucy is tempted by the spell to hear what others think of her. She casts it and overhears a conversation between her schoolmate Marjorie Preston and another girl, revealing Marjorie’s insincere flattery and mild betrayal. This devastates Lucy, sowing seeds of insecurity and resentment, though she later reflects on the harm of such knowledge.

When she comes to the "Spell of Beauty" Lucy nearly casts a spell to make herself irresistibly beautiful, motivated by envy of her sister Susan’s beauty. She sees a vision of herself transformed, outshining Susan and causing strife, but Aslan’s face appears in the book, growling softly, stopping her. This moment underscores her struggle with vanity and pride. (For the record, Aslan is a lion, fearful and wonderful, powerful and wise, who is central throughout the Chronicles.)

Lucy finally finds the spell to make “things visible which are not to be seen.” She reads it aloud, and the Dufflepuds’ invisibility is undone, revealing their comical, one-footed forms. As she reads, Aslan appears beside her, unnoticed at first, guiding her through the process.

After casting the spell, Lucy meets Aslan, who gently rebukes her for eavesdropping via the spell, explaining that the conversation she overheard was distorted and incomplete, teaching her the dangers of seeking forbidden knowledge--and teaching young readers the danger of listening in to others' conversations.) He also reveals that he was with her all along, guiding her through the book’s temptations. 

Coriakin, the magician, then appears, a kind, wise figure—a retired star sent to govern the island as a form of divine service. He hosts the group for a meal, explaining the Dufflepuds’ quirks and his role in their reformation.

The spell successfully makes the Dufflepuds visible, and they rejoice, though their bumbling nature persists. Lucy’s experience with the book leaves her wiser, having confronted her own flaws—curiosity, envy, and pride—while learning to trust Aslan’s guidance. The chapter ends with the crew preparing to leave the island, enriched by the encounter.

The lessons in this chapter alone are many, dealing with temptation and moral growth, the power of knowledge, warnings about curiosity driven by pride, and Aslan (as a Christ figure) as a divine presence. Regarding the Magician's Book, this has layers of meaning, too. We live in a world that is beyond our comprehension. C.S. Lewis addresses this in his space trilogy as well, most vividly in That Hideous Strength. The very existence of Narnia implies worlds beyond our comprehension. 

Coriakin, a star tasked by Aslan to govern the island, represents a steward of divine power, contrasting with the corrupting magic of figures like the White Witch in earlier books. The book’s spells are neutral tools, their morality depending on the user’s intent.

Some people has suggested The Magician’s Book could be seen as a metaphor for the Bible or spiritual knowledge, containing truths and powers that require discernment to wield rightly. Lucy’s journey through its pages mirrors a spiritual pilgrimage, testing her virtues and exposing her weaknesses.

Overall this chapter serves as a standalone adventure within the broader voyage of the Dawn Treader’s quest toward Aslan’s country. It entertains by balancing humor (the Dufflepuds are hilarious) with profound moral questions, making it accessible to younger readers while offering depth for adults. Lucy’s experience prepares her for later challenges, reinforcing her faith and resilience.

It's interesting that C.S. Lewis took a lot of heat from his peers for publishing The Chronicles of Narnia. He was a professor at Oxford and gaining fame by writing children's books was frowned upon. It was out of character for a dignified Oxford professor. The novel’s message, that true wisdom lies in aligning one’s will with the divine, was in alignment with Lewis's own quest. And the world has been made richer for it.

Lakes 10 Movie Theater in Hermantown has Closed, But We Still Have Great Theaters in Duluth

This is the beginning of a recent story from the Duluth News-Tribune:

HERMANTOWN — The Lakes Cinema will close after showtimes on Sunday, April 19, according to a statement on the theater's website.

Marcus Theatres, which operates the cinema at 4351 Stebner Road in Hermantown, did not immediately respond to an inquiry from the News Tribune as to why the theater was closing. In an email to loyalty members, the company wrote, "Thank you for your support over the years — we have enjoyed being part of this community."

Though no reasons were spelled out, I was aware that the theater was having trouble. The large parking lots on three sides of the theater had no more than a dozen cars one Sunday afternoon as I drove by last month. What a change from when we boomers were kids. Even drive-ins were full in those days.

I've known for some time that Covid played a role in breaking people out of their movie routines. Netflix, Disney+ and Amazon Prime stepped up their game at the same time that giant flat-panel TVs come significantly down in price. As a result, going out to catch a matinee or evening flick was no longer the default way to see movies. Covid was a gut-punch from which theaters never recovered.

There were other things that happened though as well. Studios have been making fewer mid-budget films and more big "event" films (superheroes, franchises), perhaps in an effort to capitalize on add-on sales from memorabilia and other gimmicks (which I find nauseating). The blockbusters did fill seats, though even there it has been hit and miss much of the time. Small to mid-sized towns can't survive long dry spells between the big time stuff.

Which compounds the problem of rising costs, from heating to taxes to maintaining projection equipment and sound systems.

Then there's the economics of Hollywood itself. Studios make money from streaming, from global releases and the merchandising I mentioned above. Ticket sales at the theaters are no longer as important as they once were.

On the other hand...

Many theaters have adjusted. What Bob Boone has done in restoring the West Theatre and its sibling The Alhambra is nothing short of wonderful. Whereas movie theater economics has threatened many, these asymmetrical twins were ahead of their time by creating a social hub like theaters once had been in the past. In addition to two theaters, the front half of the Alhambra has captured the historic Speakeasy atmosphere of a century ago, a time almost forgotten with live music and atmosphere.

The West is more than a movie house. Since opening it's been a stellar venue for top drawer acts from Peter Yarrow and Judy Collins to Jorma Kaukonen and John McCutcheon...  and so many others--Benny Goodman's Big Band, Gospel Bluegrass, Paula Poundstone the DTAs -- 52 weeks a year, and more!

Opened in 1913, and now it's back

It's not just music. We've also been wowed by magicians, and other acts that have added a little magic to our corner of the world. 

If you feel like the world today is driving you a little close to the edge, grab a Reader, see who's coming to town in the weeks ahead and drop in for a bit of sanity. 

*.* * 

For the record we still have the Zeitgeist downtown, an alternative venue that's got its own cool factor, and the Marcus Theaters by the DECC across from the William S. Irving ore boat.

I just heard a story recently about how the Irving ended up where it is today. A group of community business leaders brought the ship into the slip where it sits, to contribute to our soon to be flourishing tourist trade. It was all part of a grand vision for Canal Park, and it came to pass!

The Lincoln Park area has been the center of attention these past ten years, but it's my personal hope that the Spirit Valley neighborhood gets a similar about of love. And I know a lot of people who are eager to see Downtown thrive again. 

Darkness and Light

Yesterday I began a new short story in response to a disturbing event that occurred this past week. A couple tentative titles await the completion of this tale: "An Ethical Adjustment" or "The Cupboards Were Bare." 

In the meantime, his morning I woke thinking about a different theme that has been wriggling around in my brain: Darkness and Light.

Darkness is one of those simple words that opens into deeper territory the longer you sit with it. At the most basic level, darkness is just the absence of light. When no photons reach your eyes, your brain has nothing to interpret, and you perceive black. In that sense, darkness isn’t a “thing” at all—it’s what we experience when something else is missing.

But we rarely use the word that way in ordinary life. We talk about darkness as if it has weight and presence. A room can feel dark even when there’s a lamp on. A story can turn dark without the sun setting. A mood can turn dark when we allow a dark thought to make its home in our thoughts. What’s happening there is psychological: darkness becomes a shorthand for uncertainty, danger, or the unknown. Our minds fill in what we cannot see, often with fear, and we all know how fear combined with unrestrained imagination can really twist our heads. (A couple of comical stories come to mind here about runaway paranoia that fortunately had a happy ending. Maybe you have such a memory.)

There’s also a moral dimension. Across cultures, darkness has been linked with ignorance, secrecy, or wrongdoing—“things done in the dark.” Not because darkness itself is evil, but because it conceals. When actions are hidden, accountability disappears. This is why a "free press" is an essential plank in our U.S. Constitution. (See: A Free Press Is Fundamental to Free Nation)

Darkness has another dimension as well. Seeds germinate in darkness underground. Sleep restores the body in the dark. The night sky reveals stars you’ll never see at noon. And I've never met anyone who's seen the breathtaking, shimmering wonder of Northern Lights during the day either. In short, darkness is not always a bad thing.   

By way of contrast light is the counterpart to darkness—but it’s more than just its opposite. At the physical level, light is energy. If I've got my physics right, it travels as electromagnetic waves—tiny packets called photons—moving incredibly fast (an amazing 186,000 miles per second). It’s what allows us to see: objects don’t “have” color on their own; they reflect light into our eyes, and our brains interpret those reflections as shapes, colors, and motion.

It's a strange thought to consider that without light the world is still there but it's hidden.

Light also conveys information. It reveals distance, texture, movement. It lets you recognize a face, read this blog, notice danger, or find your way home. When you look at yourself in a mirror, you see nothing until the lights are turned on. In that sense, light is not just illumination—it’s understanding made visible.

That’s why we use the word metaphorically so often. We speak of “shedding light” on a problem, of a “lightbulb moment,” of someone being “in the dark.” Light becomes a symbol for clarity, truth, awareness. Where light enters, confusion tends to retreat.

But like darkness, light isn’t always gentle. It can expose things we’d rather not see. It can be harsh, even blinding. A floodlight reveals, but it can also overwhelm.

So light is both physical and symbolic. Physically, it’s the energy that makes sight possible. Mentally, it’s the process of making sense of what’s there. Spiritually or morally, it often stands for truth, insight, or revelation.

It's this last dimension that I find especially profound when I consider what Jesus once said: "I am the light of the world." This is a statement with so many layers I can't begin to express it. 

My first thought pertains to the opening lines of the Book of Genesis, and God's first words, "Let there be light."

Here's the context: In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light.

What Jesus said, though, has an even more startling suggestion. "I AM the light of the world." This phrase “I AM” comes from one of the most striking moments in the Old Testament, when God speaks to Moses from the burning bush in Book of Exodus (Exodus 3:14). Moses asks for God’s name, something concrete he can tell the Israelites. The answer he receives is most unusual: “I AM WHO I AM.”

Pursuing those ideas can be a long diversion, so I will simply call it another seed for your mind farm. How seeds germinate is a whole other post, and when they do they reach for the sun.

"Let there be light!"