You know how when you drive past the dog park and you notice a curly-haired guy with a daschund getting out of his car and then two hours later he walks into the coffeeshop where you’re working and you wonder if you’re the only person who notices these things? Or like when a guy comes out his house gate pushing a bike as you walk by and then bikes by your friend’s house five miles away later that afternoon? Do you notice these things too?
These kinds of things kind of torture me, because I don’t know what to do with them. They feel so meaningful in a meaningless way. Like, not meaningless because they have no meaning but so because we don’t yet have the mental or psychological or whatever capacity to grasp what it all means.
Some quantum physicists say the universe is a giant hologram, everything repeating and imitating itself onto infinity. That’s why nature metaphors work so well to describe our lives. Because basically we’re living inside a giant snowflake. And no two snowflakes are alike.
The entire universe, onto expanding infinity, is one giant snowstorm.
When you look at it like that, seeing the same curly-haired guy at the dog park and the coffeeshop feels even more meaningless than before. And yet, and yet, and yet … it’s like that’s all there is. Criss-crossing wavelengths, streaming the eternal question, does it matter? What does it all mean? And leaving a trail of sparkle that reminds us, at least we can look good doing this.
Whatever this is.
