In view of the week’s events in Boston, and various pronouncements about good and evil at war on our streets, I can do little better than to quote J. Michael Straczynski, writing after 9/11:
What DO we tell the children?
Do we tell them evil is a foreign face?
No. The evil is the thought behind the face, and it can look just like yours.
Do we tell them evil is tangible, with defined borders and names and geometries and destinies?
No. They will have nightmares enough.
Perhaps we tell them that we are sorry.
Sorry that we were not able to deliver unto them the world we wished them to have.
That our eagerness to shout is not the equal of our willingness to listen.
That the burdens of distant people are the responsibility of all men and women of conscience, or their burdens will one day become our tragedy.
Or perhaps we simply tell them that we love them, and that we will protect them. That we would give our lives for theirs and do it gladly, so great is the burden of our love.
In a universe of Gameboys and VCRs, it is, perhaps, an insubstantial gift. But it is the only one that will wash away the tears and knit the wounds and make the world a sane place to live in.
In the last few days I’ve managed to pass another milestone in terms of post-operative recovery: being able to flex my knee enough (and without significant pain) to sit Zazen in Burmese posture. This little achievement means a lot to me, since being able to sit in a stable position without stressing one side more or less than the other is a big help in straightening everything out: having one dodgy knee leads to all sorts of imbalances in posture, legs, the spine, &c. Day by day, progress feels frustratingly slow, but I have to remember that I was nowhere close to sitting like this a week or two ago. Again — perspective!
Art is a way of saying what it means to be alive, and the most salient feature of existence is the unthinkable odds against it. For every way that there is of being here, there are an infinity of ways of not being here. Historical accident snuffs out whole universes with every clock tick. Statistics declare us ridiculous. Thermodynamics prohibits us. Life, by any reasonable measure, is impossible, and my life — this, here, now — infinitely more so. Art is a way of saying, in the face of all that impossibility, just how worth celebrating it is to be able to say anything at all.”
While I prepare my next series of posts, which will be on the theme of torsors and similar “forgetting some structure”-type constructions in algebra and geometry (the latter including, of course, perspective and projective geometry), here’s a quote that I rather like from Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman’s book Good Omens:
God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players*, to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won’t tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.
The next time someone tells you to get a little perspective, just take a calm breath and remember that a little perspective is all you’re likely to get: the universe is a BIG and mysterious place. 🙂
Start where you are.
Use what you have.
Do what you can.
Simple, even obvious, but worth repeating from time to time — especially when attempts to solve a problem start with the reality-denying “Well, to get to there, I wouldn’t start from here,” as funny as that line can sometimes be.
A bit of dialogue that rings in my head a lot, from the movie Crimson Tide:
Ramsey: At the Naval War College it was metallurgy and nuclear reactors, not Nineteenth Century philosophy. “War is a continuation of politics by other means.” Von Clausewitz.
Hunter: I think, sir, that what he was actually trying to say was a little more —
Ramsey: Complicated? [Men laughing]
Hunter: Yes, the purpose of war is to serve a political end, but the true nature of war is to serve itself.
Ramsey: [Laughing] I’m very impressed. In other words, the sailor most likely to win the war is the one most willing to part company with the politicians and ignore everything except the destruction of the enemy. You’d agree with that?
Hunter: I’d agree that, um, that’s what Clausewitz was trying to say.
Ramsey: But you wouldn’t agree with it?
Hunter: No, sir, I do not. No, I just think that in the nuclear world the true enemy can’t be destroyed.
Ramsey: [Chuckling, tapping glass] Attention on deck. Von Clausewitz will now tell us exactly who the real enemy is. [Laughing] Von? [Men laughing]
Hunter: In my humble opinion… in the nuclear world… the true enemy is war itself.