Sometimes, restraining the tendency to ascribe human emotions to Mother Nature is hard—almost impossible. Acres of huge trees, each massive piece of timber weighing thousands of pounds, slammed to the ground by tornadic winds. Streams, transformed by endless rainfall into oceans of fast-moving rapids, consume huge and stately houses as swirling water and mud devour once-dry-land turned into river banks. Glaciers break into giant melting icebergs, increasing sea levels enough to drown ocean-front communities. The examples of Natural rage are too numerous to name. Mother Nature can no longer be considered a cooperative companion. Instead, she has become an enraged, vindictive adversary, bent on inflicting maximum pain on us. We treated her as a slave and servant to our desires; revenge is now hers. She has only just begun to unleash her wrath on humankind. Be warned.
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Mi novia is now in possession of a new vehicle, replacing the low-mileage aging auto she has driven for several years. I sat back and watched as she deftly negotiated a very favorable deal. Her interchange with the sales associate and sales manager went quickly; it was a painless process. The challenge to me, now, is to avoid catching a case of incurable new-car-fever. My vehicle, a year older and with twice the mileage of the one she discarded like an old shoe, continues to serve me well—but it is asking me to invest an enormous amount of money for expected major maintenance. My discipline is in the balance.
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The difficulty (one of them, anyway) with Time is this: it speeds by when we want it to linger, but it is painfully slow when we need it to hurry to answer pressing questions. I do not want to wait to know exactly what to expect with regard to my new treatment regimen and when to expect it. But Time has its own agenda. It thinks it can teach me patience, so it puts me through a slow-motion process of acquiring information…not knowledge, just information. What makes Time think it can teach me patience? How utterly arrogant! And cruel! Time is much like Nature in that regard; both are unwilling to cede control over our experiences. That’s why I fantasize. Fantasy gives me significantly greater control over life’s experiences than does Reality. Contrary to the way it is so often depicted, Madness can be an extraordinarily pleasing experience. So I’ve been told.
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Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence.
~ Edgar Allan Poe ~
