Minutiae

I have been reading Mrs D for a long time, and while we sometimes disagree, we often agree. She posts about knowing the details, and how it sometimes ruins things for her.

I can understand that, you don’t need to know the name of a flower to appreciate it, nor the way a TV works to watch. (though, I do, at least in principle if not in detail)

heres’ the thing, at least for me: The complexity of the natural world AND the world of human interaction is what makes it beautiful to me. Knowing more about something doesn’t ruin it for me, it expands it. Here’s the classic example, as shared with me by my philosophy professor some years ago.

We were walking across the quad from the chapel to the school, in the rain. It was a slow, soft rain, and it was a bright day (residents of Northwest indiana will know what I mean, sunny showers are common)

The priest asked me if I’d ever seen a raindrop refract light, if I’d watched the trail of a raindrop on glass and seen it distort the image behind it. like a tiny lens

Of course I had, I responded. Everyone has.

He said “you see all the raindrops around you?”
“Yes.”
“the Creator of the Universe has painted the scene we are walking through, on each and every raindrop, from every conceivable angle, and nobody ever even sees all of those infinitely detailed masterpieces, painted with the original and most sophisticated paintbrushes, Light”

I was stunned.

And ever since I have looked for the hidden, because the hidden is often more exquisite by far than the visible.

The Status Quo Sucks

George carlin is dead. Above is one of my favorite Carlin quotes.

Below is another:

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Some people see things that are and ask, Why? Some people dream of things that never were and ask, Why not? Some people have to go to work and don’t have time for all that

Transitions

At a garage sale (I love them, but usually I resist the impulse to buy) I picked up a two cd set of Fleetwood Mac. I have all the albums at home, but for some reason I’ve not dusted them off in ages.

So I take this disk on a little road trip, intending to listen as I drive. THe good stuff is all there; Sara. Rhiannon. Gypsy. Landslide. Even an instrumental, slowed down version of “Go insane”. The disks set on the seat on the way down, I listened to the saturday morning financial shows and dreamed of actually having cash to invest in something.

I spent yesterday morning working, talking with a customer about some vision systems etc., and in the afternoon we went to the range, for several hundred rounds of explodey goodness. The day finished with a lakeside picnic with good friends.

Getting lost and wandering through central Indiana in search of an open gas station was a little frustrating, but I got’er done, and pulled out to do the last 60 miles home. I remembered the disk, and alone with my thoughts on dark indiana backroads, I remembered why I hadn’t dusted off those albums in ages.

Fleetwood Mac- or its’ various members- had been there through a lot of my personal transitions, acting as a sort of lyrical midwife between one portion of my life and another, and the Mac music that was popular at each transition was imprinted with those emotions. So whe I hear Rhiannon, it dredges up a memory of relationship gone horribly sour, and the violent effort required to extricate myself from it. Sara is another that calls to mind a situation in which I found myself unemployed and alone, without two pennies to rub together. Landslide- well, if I need to moisturize my contact lenses I can always dial THAT one up.

So I put the disks back in the case and drove the rest of the way home in silence.

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