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“Germ’s Germ”

March 2, 2021

Best Things dwell out of Sight

The Pearl — the Just — Our Thought.

Most shun the Public Air

Legitimate, and Rare —

The Capsule of the Wind

The Capsule of the Mind

Exhibit here, as doth a Burr —

Germ’s Germ be where?

Emily Dickinson

It satisfied some bewilderment when the picture above as revealed to be on the InterWebNets is (just) a model. But is was yet a factual representation of the innards of just one of the human cells within each and every one of us. I am sure the colors are added for clarity as we would all glow in the dark if every cell looked like a fruit salad on acid painted by Dali.

But it is one of 37.2 trillion cells in each body of every grown person you see.

More of them than dollars in the National Debt. For a while, anyway.

There are 5,000 times more cells in your body than the number of all the humans living on the earth, I think. But it’s early in the morning.

It does not matter in the end, no matter the numbers of zeroes that apply there are incomprehensible numbers that reflect surreal complexity. That complexity is completely, totally silent.

“Best Things dwell out of Sight

The Pearl — the Just — Our Thought.

Most shun the Public Air

Legitimate, and Rare —”

How can you have faith in something you cannot see, let alone understand? Forget about origins, design, motivations, purpose, outcomes, value – anything besides the next ice cream cone or paycheck or Covid Inoculation.

We live in near total ignorance thinking we know all we need to know to conclude origins, design, motivations, purpose, outcomes, value. We are fully riled in complete screaming outrage over a candidate, or in complete overwhelming devotion and focus to a football team.

One of 37,200,000,000 bits of us is completely, fully unknowable. But we have a model of one, painted by Salvatore Dali.

A full year in near complete distraction avoiding a tiny chance of death, or even a small chance of getting sick, because, you idiot, we can avoid those things. But don’t ask about the 37,200,000,000 things that compose you, me, each of us. Or the one thing that undermines all our fears, loves, hates: who made this, these, you, me? Or anything, really, except that ice cream cone or that bastard running for something.

But we see the pearl inside the oyster. Or the things that make up the pearl inside the oyster – that’s sits on a reef, that sits in a sea, on the earth in the solar system in a galaxy in huge hosts of other galaxies, 2% of which, maybe, we can understand their reality – in the rest of the rest we simply do not understand.

We do not understand.

I understand that I do not understand. Is that better than having an ice cream cone, or voting the “right” way?

I think it is worse. But it is true. But I know that I did not make any bit of any one of those cells. Forget about the rest. I know that complexity cannot just happen. I know that love and faith make zero sense, let alone God. Especially Jesus. But we have those. Even in a full Year of Lent.

We are alone, with Emily.

But we are not alone.

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