Burnt ochre

I was recently on a solitary train journey when I fell asleep and had a dream. In my dream I woke up and looked out the train window, puzzled to see no view at all. Then I found seated to my left, a scientist I knew but in the form of a big, lighted cigar. As he "burned," he started speaking to me about the rich and deep nature of things, which I thoroughly absorbed with wonder. When he was about "half-extinguished," I realized that the view outside the window started to fill up, taking on deeper shades like burnt ochre. It did not take long after that when I realized that it was his "fire" that was filling up the scene outside. By the time this cigar-scientist was completely extinguished, I was left with the most beautiful winter landscape to see from my window. I remember the sense of loss I felt when he had burnt out, being overran by an overwhelming sense of gratitude that our paths crossed and that he had been by my side to deepen and enrich the color of my journey. So I am now taking this chance to pass it on. This yearend column is written with express gratitude to readers who have journeyed with me in thought for the past six months since I took over this column. Science is the prime lens I use to help us, including myself, understand the nature of things, and in doing so, I have come to appreciate, more than ever, its powers as well as its horizons. I hope I have so far helped readers come to this appreciation as well.

For De Rerum Natura columns, I consider the names of places and people as secondary in contemplating the nature of things. The subtle but profound pleasure I derive from thought, from experience, is launched from everywhere, that to cite places or people may mean sacrificing the point of the columns I write. I want to be able to share the idea that delight, in its breadth and depth, is rooted in how we experience people, things and places and how, as they surround our lives, they transform us and how we view the world, ourselves and each other, in the universe. It is irrelevant where you are and whom you meet, not because places and people are not important but in fact because they truly are, in equal but distinct measure. The things, creatures, places and people that have inspired these columns have enriched my life and my view of the world and the universe that to print their names would mute their essences, or as poet Octavio Paz puts it, would relegate them to "rest in the shade of their names." Each word then is a tribute to them too and I thank them for being around to point things out in the world.

I think it is an irretrievable waste for people to claim to have been everywhere yet not try to understand what happens to them, big or small. Sometimes, we confuse labels with essences and think that blurting out places we have been to and people we have met, already reveals to us the essence of things. But I think it is only when we try our utmost best to understand these experiences and perceive their relevance do people, places and things become worthy of articulation, of these spaces for the mind, of the time of thoughtful readers. Wonder seethes, burrows and fashions our sense of life, but only, only with new eyes. It is the universal human condition as it contemplates the nature of things that I try to do here weekly. We do just pass this way once, and I think we owe it to each other to do whatever it is we do, whatever our dance is, the best way we know how.

This space is about the nature of things and fortunately, the nature of things is larger than ourselves, larger than the places we inhabit, far more interesting than our travel plans, deeper and more varied than the connections we perceive, more important than any one person we meet, more beautiful than we can ever imagine, but more elusive than we would want it to be. But it is in our character as human beings to persist and try to grab a piece of the universe in thought. The pleasure is here, all ours to freely pursue.

The nature of things, of course, lies beyond a newspaper column. So now, set aside this weekly attempt to understand the nature of things and do your dance and experience the world in burnt ochre. Inhabit your mind. Inhabit your world. And through it all, express your gratitude whether it fills the arch of a deep bow, the curve of a sweet smile, the clasp of prayerful hands, the echoes of a church hymn, a Zen chant, even the clicking of heels or a silent long gaze at the night sky.

Lastly, I want to state this column’s wish for the coming year. I wish readers their own spaces for the mind, in wild peace, strewn with shades of meaning. Despite what your sorrows may be, it is, as it has always been, a wonderful time to be alive!