There are some things in the world that
will never cease to intrigue me. I shall now make you privy to a few
of them:
- Tomorrow never comes. Think about it. All the time we say, “I will do this or that tomorrow,” “I can't wait for tomorrow,” or “Tomorrow will be a fresh start.” But the moment we wake up tomorrow, it will be today. You might say, “Well yes, but today is yesterday's tomorrow.” But even in saying that, you name this day “today.” And so, tomorrow never comes. This is really a tragedy, I think. It means that all those things we put off until tomorrow either have to simply remain ever undone, or we must concede to doing them today.
- You can never arrive in a far off land. This thought follows the same principle as the former. When I set off to explore a far off land, the moment I set foot off of my airplane, or boat, or hot air balloon, I shall have failed. I will not have arrived in a far off land, I will have arrived to a very near land – a land directly beneath my feet. This means that the only way to actually explore a far off land involves no exploring at all. I must be sitting in my house, reading a book or watching a documentary, in order to successfully explore a land that is far off – far from me. The only lands I can really explore in person are lands that are near, beneath my feet, spread out before my curious eyes, their sights and sounds and smells enveloping me – near.
- Whenever you go, you are coming; whenever you leave, you are entering. Consider: as you tell your mother that you are going to your friend's house, you are also in a place to tell your friend that you are coming to their house. In the same way, as you leave the house by stepping through the front door, you will enter the front yard. This holds true for all goings and comings, leavings and enterings. Now let us consider the implications of this. This means that it is impossible to go and simply be gone – impossible to leave and simply have left. Every time that you go from one place, from one person, from one world view, you are coming to another place, person, or worldview. Whenever you leave behind a home, a season, or a job, you are on the way to entering a new home, season, or job. All goings are comings; all leavings are enterings.
- The emphasis on different words within a sentence dramatically changes the connotations of the sentence. For example, if I were to say, “I enjoy walking in the city,” there are four possible connotations of the sentence, depending on which part of the sentence I emphasize when I'm speaking. If I say, “I enjoy walking in the city,” it suggests that I am comparing myself to someone else who has probably just told a dramatic story full of petty reasons for why they have decided that they don't enjoy walking in the city. If I say, “I enjoy walking in the city,” I am probably responding to someone who is apologizing profusely and awkwardly for having required me to walk some distance with them through the city. If I say, “I enjoy walking through the city,” I am probably feeling slightly defensive in the presence of an avid runner who is describing the adventure that comes with trying to run every day through the crazy and chaotic streets of city life as they prepare for their next marathon. Finally, if I say, “I enjoy walking in the city,” I would probably be suggesting that I am not made for the real outdoors and perhaps despise the idea of hiking up mountains, or rambling through woods, or meandering alongside a canyon stream. And now we come to the point where we realize how incredibly important italics are in clear communication through written text. How else would we be able to correctly deduce what our friend is actually saying in that cryptic text about what she wants to do this evening?
- The statement “I know you” has multiple possible meanings, depending on the context and tone of voice in which it is said. “I know you!” said in a jovial manner when you get on the bus and find your friend already sitting there, heading the same direction, really means, “Hi! I am pleasantly surprised that you are here!”
“I know you,” said in a condescending manner when you catch your son trying to sneak ice cream from the freezer right before your vegetarian dinner actually means, “You haven't figured out yet that I can anticipate everything you're about to do all the time?”
“I know you,” said lovingly by a husband to his wife after seeing her elated at the gift that he picked out for her actually means, “I understand what makes you happy, and I want to make you happy.”
“I know you,” said a little too enthusiastically by a random stranger on the street means, “You look a lot like an acquaintance of mine – an acquaintance I don't know well enough to actually tell apart from similarly shaped strangers on the street.”
And finally, “I know you,” said very slowly by your long lost brother who lost his mind while stranded on an uninhabited island for thirteen years and was only recently rescued, really means, “I am slowly recalling the pieces of my past from before I lost my mind, and I now realize that you are my brother. I can remember again!”
There
are other things – many others – that intrigue me to no end, but
I won't drag them all before you to parade around right now. That is
enough absurdity for one day.
Oh the joy of claiming you as my offspring...you outburst of genius you!
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