Being a Luddite is not such a terrible thing. Not a real Luddite you understand, for the times of rebelling against the weaving loom departed in the nineteenth century, rather I have a healthy dislike, an antipathy if you will towards science as a subject to be learned, remembered, ingrained, as opposed to occasionally perused, when applicable to a particular matter that might have caught my momentary interest. I prefer pre-enlightenment pursuits, a little astronomy, perhaps some alchemy, mixed with some hocus pocus to get the juices properly flowing. Botany I can endure, for what Britain does not enjoy horticulture, the cultivation of roses, sweet peas, and all manner of vegetables.
I adore the abstractions of language, words, definitions, sayings, pieces of ridiculousness, nonsensical utterances that describes exactly the way I feel, think and am. For exemple my being a Luddite does not mean what you imagine. I follow no unthinking, oppressive crusade against all things new and innovative, rather simply echo a terrible fear of all the knowledge, skill, accumulated learning, those depths of human understanding that could so easily be obliterated in the name of progress, conformity, easiness. To that end we all have the glare of the Luddite within our eyes, protecting what is most dear against the unfeeling cleansing tide of universality.
I like scientists, find then vital, informative, educational, thoroughly enjoy a scant peppering of their condiments, just enough to flavor my dishes, but not so much to overwhelm the base ingredient. Am quite happy to nod to their findings, their conclusions, will praise their incisiveness, investigative processes. I agree utterly, then cry enough. I do recognize your truth, have no wish to dispute you, but the process of the pressing soon becomes a little inhuman for my frail sensibilities, fostered as they are by the nebular. A comprehension of reality impossibly vague to you.
Cherish the airy-fairy, squint at the badly focused, extoll the fanciful. Such is the nature of inquisitiveness, the root of all worldly knowledge, inclusive of dastardly science.