lines can haunt you

2006-04-03

Sprouts, flying discs, magic numbers

Magic. You put a seed in some earth, add water, and you watch life literally unfold. I have started the tomatoes this year, and they are beautiful. Behold:

They are looking skyward, constantly seeking the light; they are truth-seekers because they know that life is good and cannot do other but follow this a priori; the sun is their god.

But I see magic elsewhere too. A flying white disc that arcs and beckons as I run and jump so high sometimes to catch it. To throw it a mile or less is fabulous. To know that if I throw it thus it will first drive itself into the wind before opening, just slightly, and sailing off to the west, into the waiting hands of my intended target. That is magic there.

And the market. This is truly magical, even fantastical, these numbers and decimals. I use my computer to exchange excess labour and assets I have accumulated for imaginary shares in a common concern with a common goal - that by doing so, I am saying, 'I am with you', and the common concern is able to attempt to undertake its bidding; if it is successful, or other excess accumulators think it will be successful, then I am rewarded with larger numbers to put back into my accumulation of excess labour pool, which I can then exchange for other goods and service, even the future.

Perhaps it is all numbers in the end. Even the seeds themselves. Detect water, warmth, soil? 0=do nothing, wait longer, 1=sprout. You add a flying disc, and the causes and effects become too numerous to express linguistically (at least for the lazy), to say nothing at all about the complexities of an intricate capital-based market economy. But I partake in all this magic everyday, and where once I mocked it, now I marvel at it.

Even the seeds themselves. Put a tiny seed on top of dirt and sprinkle with water. And now they are looking to me, I am their father, I am their mentor. I will invest my time in their future. They will graduate one day, bearing great red spheres of thanks, which I will graciously accept as return for their unique existence, for my time, and I will share this thanks with those whom I love, and I will mark the decline of my children with the fading of the season, and I will feel sorrow at their departure. And I will bury them for another year.


Navigation previous entry next entry latest entry archives profile notes e-mail How lines can haunt you... Recent Forays 2009-03-10: The names 2008-05-21: in medias res 2007-11-14: The things I meant to write about: 2007-07-29: More than meets the eye 2007-04-13: Where the words have gone. Links Abroad in medias res Modern Drunkard Ftrain The Onion Exploding Dog McSweeney's Internet Tendency The National Pist Higher Blogs Palinode's Palace Schmutzie Friday Films Luvabeans Sprigs Fairlywell Dirty Laundry Boombasticat f-i-n jonquill Stray Sparrow Swordfern Pablo Ashahands Erasing		2006-04-03 Sprouts, flying discs, magic numbers Magic. You put a seed in some earth, add water, and you watch life literally unfold. I have started the tomatoes this year, and they are beautiful. Behold: They are looking skyward, constantly seeking the light; they are truth-seekers because they know that life is good and cannot do other but follow this a priori; the sun is their god. But I see magic elsewhere too. A flying white disc that arcs and beckons as I run and jump so high sometimes to catch it. To throw it a mile or less is fabulous. To know that if I throw it thus it will first drive itself into the wind before opening, just slightly, and sailing off to the west, into the waiting hands of my intended target. That is magic there. And the market. This is truly magical, even fantastical, these numbers and decimals. I use my computer to exchange excess labour and assets I have accumulated for imaginary shares in a common concern with a common goal - that by doing so, I am saying, 'I am with you', and the common concern is able to attempt to undertake its bidding; if it is successful, or other excess accumulators think it will be successful, then I am rewarded with larger numbers to put back into my accumulation of excess labour pool, which I can then exchange for other goods and service, even the future. Perhaps it is all numbers in the end. Even the seeds themselves. Detect water, warmth, soil? 0=do nothing, wait longer, 1=sprout. You add a flying disc, and the causes and effects become too numerous to express linguistically (at least for the lazy), to say nothing at all about the complexities of an intricate capital-based market economy. But I partake in all this magic everyday, and where once I mocked it, now I marvel at it. Even the seeds themselves. Put a tiny seed on top of dirt and sprinkle with water. And now they are looking to me, I am their father, I am their mentor. I will invest my time in their future. They will graduate one day, bearing great red spheres of thanks, which I will graciously accept as return for their unique existence, for my time, and I will share this thanks with those whom I love, and I will mark the decline of my children with the fading of the season, and I will feel sorrow at their departure. And I will bury them for another year. Tell me when this blog is updated email: