THE PARADOX OF NOTION
Asking to take home that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow,
May be asking for too much. So I’ve come to a resolution, just
Have someone take my picture holding it. [still deciding if I want
The leprechaun anywhere near the shot, because I’m the bitter
Jealous type]
In spite of well-practiced telepathy, compounded by mini-movies,
Spontaneously scripted screenplays, my mind could only alter
So much of reality. I gave up solipsism the moment I figured
You’re free to choose unchoose me!
So, I think, but it could just be me, but I think, now, hear me
First before you answer. Can you hold my hand, or wrap your
Arms around my shoulder (or whatever intimate manifest within
The zone of your comfort) while someone takes our picture.
Pretend. Truth is variable and meaning is amorphous. Just
For this purpose: photographic evidence! my love.
So that in the future, year 2051 A.D. (After Denial), I could tell
My grandchildren of this one great love that got away. “Here,
Look!” Pointing at our almost fully smudged old picture. “That’s
him, he was adorable one second, and gone the next.” I’d appear
miserable, as I explain how things didn’t work out.
“Why didn’t things work out?” They’d all ask.
“Now, remember when you were younger, 4 or 5 years old, and
we discussed Eleatic Philosphers of Old Greek? Parmenides? Does
that name ring a bell?”
“Yes!” They’d say in perfect synchrony.
“Who is his favorite student?”
“Zeno!” Again, they all answer at the same time.
“Well, Zeno argued that motion is impossible. In his argument
‘The Dichotomy’ he said that there is no motion, because that
which is moved must arrive at the middle before it arrives at
the end, and so on ad infinitum. The object travels the infinite
half-ways but never arrives at the destination.”
“Ahuh.” You could see them captivated.
“Remember, distance, my children, will always overpower
freewill. Now, go to sleep, and in the future, you should know
better. Consider this story a warning.”
That’s far easier than telling them I deluded myself.
I’m still a philosophy major. Don’t ever forget that my dear.
.
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