Mule and Horse

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It's Always the End Of the World*

I keep track of asteroids. They’re interesting to me. When I look at the above image, there’s a little fear, a little thrill. My human solipsism is confounded by the idea of a universe without us. Walking across the Cincinnati suspension bridge the other day, I looked at our beautiful little city and found it unimaginable that it would one day be gone. All of the bridges down, all of the windows blown out. Ohio used to be underwater. A walk along the evolutionary stones at Sawyer Point illustrates that nicely.

So the next potential planet killer is a little asteroid named Apophsis. Apophis is the Greek name for the Egyptian god of destruction. Maybe the name is appropriate, but it’s a little melodramatic for my taste. I prefer Daisy.

Apophsis--sensationalism aside--is expected to be another in a long line of near misses. Only if it passes through what is called a ’gravitational keyhole’ as it zooms past us in 2026, could it cause a problem, creating a highly probable collision in the year 2036.

Why is all of this so appealing to me?

How can it not be? If you allow yourself to slip from the Summer Blockbuster angle, step past the survival fantasy, and override the slight tingling in your death instinct, there are good reasons to contemplate both your own, and the Earth’s, ultimate revelation. Such considerations aren’t--at least on my part--purely morbid, nor are they some kind of Hicksian yearning for Arizona Bay. While as humans we surely fall short, I don’t eagerly anticipate some kind of cosmic come-uppance.

Knowing that the story has an end, that our time is finite, and that indeed,we are lucky to be here at all, can only do us good. As Richard Dawkins opens his awesome book Unweaving the Rainbow :“The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains in Arabia.”

Out of all the variations, disasters, missteps, etcetera, that could've happened to us along the way to existence--navigating our way across a long, unbroken chain of evolutionary idiosyncracies--we are here. And we are alive, which is doubly lucky! The miracle in this scenario is our presence. We have already overcome the greatest hurdle we could ever face; all before we were even conscious of the concept of hurdles at all (and I was worried about getting into grad school)!

We are all grad students in the school of life.

So for creatures so random, so free to create our own meanings in this life, is it so bad to consider that someday we're going to check out?

It helps me. To know that I'll die--to know that you'll die too--takes a hesitation away from action. I am not here forever, and I can't be sure about anything that comes after this. I can't stow away my true intents and secret philosophies for vindication at a later date. I need to do it today. To know that I am finite and fallible (not necessarily operating on marching orders from some divine force), tells me to be open to others and to be kind. We are all in a similar situation here. And we're not guaranteed tomorrow.

Someone said all of this better than me:

Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day's own trouble be sufficient for the day.

who could argue with that?

There’s at least metaphoric rock at the end of both mine, and the Earth’s life. While it can be unsettling to consider, it helps keep me on point, and adds a poignancy to both the sound of my children's bare feet patting across the living room floor, and the sound of my now creaky knees as I stand up.


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*This is a tweaked version of a post I wrote in August called 'Daisy, Daisy, Give Me Your Answer Do...

Exhibit A

When the aliens invade and ask us why they should spare our little blue planet, I think someone should show them A Boy Named Charlie Brown.

Pequin, Foley

I'm in danger of posting a new blog every day or two telling you to go read the new thing at Pequin, and to check out the newest thing Brian Foley has written. Instead of doing that, I will just tell you that there is a new piece by Brian Foley at Pequin, and it is very good. Odds are the next thing that Steven Coy posts at Pequin will also be very good, and the next thing that Brian Foley writes will probably be very good too. So keep up on them. Both are linked in my free refills section, Pequin under Pequin, and Mr. Foley under Eunuch's Blues.

2 poems @ Why Vandalism?

I have two poems in this month's issue of Why Vandalism. My e-book, Mule and Horse, will be available from them later this month.

The Monty Hall Problem

Looks like some of psychology's most famous experiments may have fallen victim to a tricky little statistical error. Click the link to see what's behind door number one.

Not Feeling So Bloggy...

I haven't been feeling incredibly bloggy so far this month. Spring has arrived in my part of Ohio, and there are bees (honey bees!) buzzing around all of the freshly bloomed flowers in my yard. It's hard to stay inside. As soon as the ground dries up a little more, it will be even harder. Spring is the time for riding bikes, playing soccer, cooking out, and getting allergy shots.

Spring and Summer is why we don't produce many notable epics in the midwest. They do that in former Soviet Sattelites, where it is too cold to fall through the ice. In the midwest--while we can be angsty from time to time--we're mostly good for blogs, sports articles, and limericks. The writing on the bathroom walls in midwestern universities--especially in the psych. departments--is exceptional.

I'm working on and off on a little piece about existential psychology, I've got a story or two on the back burner, and I may churn out a poem or bathroom-wall-etching every now and then, but for the most part this April (if you need me), I'll be in the yard.

I Am In Frequent Contact With You Know Who

A story I wrote called I am In Frequent Contact With You Know Who is currently on display at Pequin.

Pequin is awesome, and you should check in with them a couple of times a week.