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December 23, 2014

As the days grow longer Pagan celebrations naturally accrue to irrational exuberance: we are not going to be in a place that is dark and getting darker: light returns and we have less chance of smashing our toes in a black room. But our minds are pretty good at missing the point. Every byte of energy I am using to type this, every calorie I expend, has one base source: gravity.

Without atoms being attracted to each other in ever increasing effect the more of them are drawn into coincidence, there is no sun, no light, no heat, no life.

It’s daunting to think that there is one physical force that makes all the other freaky extrapolations possible… No Gravity, No Peace – or War, or Politics, or Kardashians, or Food, or Me, or You. One force, with no understanding of what the hell it actually is.

Measured out the wazoo, applied in infinite manipulating to maximize and minimize its impact, yet overlooked, ignored or simply wished away, especially by we the fat.

Gravity is in fact the first miracle: it is without reason for being, yet is omnipresent. It creates everything around us, and yet we apply it in ways that distract any appreciation for it. TV, sex, intoxication, romance, hate, greed, love, exhaustion, fear all dance on the floor of gravity.

Without the energy embodied in its force none of these exists, because we do not exist. We can be scared of Black Holes or the crushing advance of glaciers or the impending annihilation of pretty much everything by our hand, but the extremes of gravity are like the rantings of cable TV or an oil slick: the icky surface noise upon which an infinite abiding reality benignly energizes every living and created thing.

But it’s dumbness has applications that drive our tiny brains into excruciation. Gravity is so overwhelming huge and pervasive and yet its so infinitely, intricately, elaborately unnecessarily complex in its eddies of resultant manifestations that we are incapable of making sense of it.

We create constructed frameworks of metrics or interpretations to make the simplest of truths – that stuff is attracted to stuff – palatable: as if we could understand unmeasurable time and scope in the pea brains of its creation.

But humans need to have a foothold against the uncontrolled draw of gravity’s unyielding power. We somehow cannot give up the hope that in some way we can impact the things that we have absolutely zero chance to control. We write laws, define moralities, engage in distractions and dedications that surf the wave of the energy gravity creates thinking we can redirect its huge amoral, grindingly real truth into meaning. Humans are not good at accepting what we have: we break, build, grow and elaborate upon every aspect of what gravity provides: no black holes us, no nova’s, or other inevitabilities: we are here: now: seeing the possibilities – great, tragic and Kardashian – that gravity has given us, but forgetting, in the end, its just energy, stupid. Blind, mute, unchanging force is either redirected in some human sidebar or it crushes on, drawing everything together till it explodes in some infinitely distant history or future. We can be gravity’s victims or its artists.

We can passively get a tan or make something. We can ignore it or be defeated by its implacable extremity. But all of these options have been given to us by a completely unnecessary status, seemingly unique in our speck of reality – for some inarticulate reason we feel more than gravity.

Some of us get our insignificance, our tiny-ness amid the huge scope of time and space, but most are lost in the love and hate of the here and now. In this change time, when the angled axis of our rotation in the orbit about a thermonuclear reactor causes uneven exposure to its energy, and we find more light, more warmth, more life in its unthinking presence, it is unavoidable to bump into our common capacity for an unnecessary truth. While gravity rules everything around us, it is completely useless when it comes to what we feel within us: love is the great counter-gravitational miracle.

The reality that we care, deeply, beyond gravity is the illogical fruit of humanity. You may find it a nuisance. You may spend a life registering its insane uselessness to a scientific make-up call of retroactive rationalization to give you solace that you can know everything before you die. You may find a Rosetta Stone of mystic revelation that makes gravity’s unyielding presence have a spiritual meaning.

But I think its dumber than that.

Unavoidable realities are not limited to what we can understand. Human love is the embodiment of the unnecessary essential – the uncontrollable, inscrutable pervasive truth that defies all efforts at understanding: kinda like gravity.

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