It is really difficult to talk of the world we live in, the wild life that populates it, the seasons on their relentless march, and all things human, without appealing to something or more to the point, someone. And even if someone is not directly appealed to, we are consistently defaulting to terms that sound suspiciously like someone is involved. 'Created, formed, beautifully structured, designed perfectly for the environment' - and so on. Even the venerable David Attenborough speaking in his husky and dramatic voice gets close to admitting, in his captivated tone, to something I don't think he believes. The idea that all he so passionately speaks of is nothing more than the result of mere (even if called wonderful) chance doesn't weigh up. Does chance illicit such a personal response from us? Should we not look at everything and say it is what it is because anything more is a betrayal of emergent evolution (in its strictest terms). Does it matter that what is, is what is? Or do we have deeper rives running through us that point, no matter how utterly inconvenient, to a being/power that has as much to do with the world we live in, as we think he/she/it doesn't?