Geology

29 Mar 2010

I have no idea at what point in life I realised that a rock is not just a rock. It's probably very significant; much more important than working out that Santa isn't real - but of course I can't remember when that happened either. It's very frustrating.

So don't ask me to tell you when I realised that rocks could be forged in the heart of a volcano or packed together out of the bodies of millions of tiny wee beasties the size of your thumbnail.

It's important because it's one of those things you find out which add a layer to the burgeoning idea that there probably isn't a God. Because knowing that a rock isn't just a rock tends to explain most of the weird and wonderful features of the planet that are always the ones that make you go "Wow, how did that get there?", and if you're the kind of person who believes in things because they're uncomfortable with not knowing things then finding that Uluru wasn't deposited by aliens or by God but was compressed by the weight of a long vanished ancient river and was eventually exposed by millenia of desert winds is going to erode your faith.

Frankly, although the above fact is pretty remarkable I do sometimes long for someone to find prove that life on earth was seeded by a huge intergalactic octopus called Simon, or that Stonehenge was actually the world's first Guinness Book of Records attempt at a domino rally. But perhaps it's remarkable enough that one day an octopus called Simon might play catch with a rock made out of millions of tiny humans. And with any luck the Guinness Book of Records will finally have gone out of business.