Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Green Sun, Yellow Grass.

There is so much to tell you. I don’t really know where to begin. I could begin at the beginning, but even if I could describe what little I know of the beginning in a way that you would understand,  I would quickly get into events that I could not accurately describe without describing much later events. My language was also changed by what I would find out. Even now my description of events is subject to change; more will be revealed.

I’ve been harangued enough about an absolute morality or transcendent connectedness that I should be able to simply use the nature of that to form an absolute reference frame. These things, instead of possessing an intrinsic level of detail, retreat into the realm of subjective description when confronted. They are individual, or personal, or subject to interpretation; far from an absolute standard we can map the experiences to.

I could rely on similarity. We are both humans so the events, and their impact, are undoubtedly similar to yours. I could use your familiarity with similar events to color in the details I don’t have the time to fill in. Unfortunately the details would be yours. The less I specifically filled in the more your image of my events would only be the similar events you experienced.

I could call up real things. Those items we know exist regardless of how little we might believe in them. This, however, turns out to be a lowest common denominator of sorts. As we both learn more the possibilities for discussion increase geometrically. Tomorrow and tomorrow the detail of the events will continue to resolve themselves.

I might be able to re-create the events for you. Play act them, or write a play based on them. The stage would be sparsely set. I could focus your imagination on those things most important to the plot.

I could abandon words entirely and paint a picture.

Interpretive dance.

Though I, like most people, like to think of myself as unique, these problems are common.

Consider the problem of communicating something far less complicated than my series of events. Consider talking to someone about color. Without a common reference point to draw upon the concept of “green” steadfastly resists communication. I try to imagine green things that might serve as a stored reminder of what “green” would mean to you. That… or this… is “green”. The best solution might be to pull something out of my pocket that was “green”, or point to something “green”. In this way I provide an instantaneous shared experience who’s residual is a shared understanding of “green”.

Of course memories do fade; sometimes like bright colors in the brighter sun.




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