April 28, 2020

Occam's Advice

Some tool is needed, some device –
a weapon, perhaps, repurposed, alt-purposed.
This knot is wicked, indeed. Everyone is up
in arms, spouting theories in the conspiratorial
vein, conjectures that can never be proven
true because they can never be proven false,
yarns spun by the force of compelling
narrative, which holds no necessary
allegiance to the real or the actual, except
insofar as these elements render the narrative
more compelling still, by verisimilitude. The
very idea of verification has become veritably
laughable, to the great peril of all. We love
our stories, especially the fantastic ones –
the more other-worldly the better – and we
have not (yet) discerned the difference
between the story that giveth life
and the story that taketh life away.

Some tips for those aspiring to this discernment:
first, assume there is much you cannot know
personally; doubt yourself; make room for
uncertainty, let it take up residence on the futon
of your mind indefinitely, a permanent drop-out
from the school of the convinced; or better yet,
build it a granny suite, complete with kitchenette,
and drink your morning coffee on the porch
in its company, rocking wordlessly as you sit
together and watch the rising of the sun. Next,
develop an eye for simplicity, for clean lines
cut by a thin blade and open spaces exposed
to the lights of inquiry and investigation; hone
your taste for recipes with the fewest ingredients,
or at least the least complicated ones; collect a
set of knives, razor-edged, forged by the sweat
of expert blacksmiths, those who understand
the strength of the steel that slices the impossible
knot comes not from the tangled heart of the fire,
but from the cool quench, at last, in a barrel of water.