As a kid, I used to just sit outside in the spring and summer in the early evenings, right around when the sun sank beneath the hills and tree canopies. The sprinklers ærosolised the pollens and dust, filling the air with the smell of suburban nature. Soon after, the smell of barbecues would waft from yard to yard. I'd sit in tranquil solitude, watching the ants marching, transporting, and constructing. I imagined the lateral dissection of their seemingless endless, interwoven tunnel systems. I brought myself down to their scale, viewing their societies, their languages, their politics and wars... I imagined their daily lives, their hierarchies, their struggles and accomplishments. I did this until the sun faded, and the lighting became a softer, dimmer blue.
My whole life, I've seen patterns that seemed to zoom in and out infinitely. Human, ant, bacterium, molecules, atoms, subatomic particals... Humans, governments, planets, solar systems, galaxies, the universe. Whichever way I zoomed, be it larger or smaller, I saw the same patterns repeating and repeating: fractals.
It was order. It felt natural.
No comments:
Post a Comment