*Except when your wife is in labor. Then Nature shows up, stands in the center of the room, and makes everything else cease to exist.
We’re in between intermittent early contractions now. I philosophize to deal with stress.
Oh right, the wife and I have been expecting number four for 9 months now. I forgot about that part. She’s sitting at the table now. I get up when the action hits, go away when she wants me to go away. It looks like it will happen sometime today or tomorrow. Unless it doesn’t.
So nature/natura/ natus / or birth. Nature loves to hide only because she spends most of her time doing things other than sitting down and answering questions. When she shows up, men have to watch and be unable to do anything. I can spend the rest of my time playing with ironclad arguments that she’s a cloud of particles stupidly banging around (but which somehow manages to pull off any given action with infinite mathematical precision and dazzling simplicity, using everything from beetle-tooth designs we ripped-off to make chainsaw teeth to crazy-unthinkable modes of adaptation which are nothing like we would design and yet unswervingly get where they need to go) but in the face of birth, this is all storytelling from kids books. It’s not that it’s wrong, but it’s not even wrong.
Men have to watch and, for once, can’t act. You might have defeated Hitler, gone to the moon, written the Iliad, established the Academy, built Paris and the pyramids, devised Riemannian geometry and mastered Hilbert spaces, built a Ferrari or sculpted Apollo and Daphne, but all that was after something else took care to make sure that you existed at all. Trace the story back to its entry into the world and you find a man being unable to do anything but stand there. Nature is a woman, and she’s got this.