Thermodynamic miracles… events with odds against so astronomical they’re effectively impossible, like oxygen spontaneously becoming gold. I long to observe such a thing.
And yet, in each human coupling, a thousand million sperm vie for a single egg. Multiply those odds by countless generations, against the odds of your ancestors being alive; meeting; siring this precise son; that exact daughter… Until your mother loves a man she has every reason to hate, and of that union, of the thousand million children competing for fertilization, it was you, only you, that emerged. To distill so specific a form from that chaos of improbability, like turning air to gold… that is the crowning unlikelihood. The thermodynamic miracle.But…if me, my birth, if that’s a thermodynamic miracle… I mean, you could say that about anybody in the world!.
Yes. Anybody in the world. ..But the world is so full of people, so crowded with these miracles that they become commonplace and we forget… I forget. We gaze continually at the world and it grows dull in our perceptions. Yet seen from the another’s vantage point. As if new, it may still take our breath away. Come…dry your eyes. For you are life, rarer than a quark and unpredictable beyond the dreams of Heisenberg; the clay in which the forces that shape all things leave their fingerprints most clearly. Dry your eyes… and let’s go home.
Dr. Manhattan. From the graphic novel ‘Watchmen’ by Alan Moore.
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2017
the year of farming
2018
the year of farming
2019
the year of farming
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“Hear the vast night, vaster without her. Lines fall on the soul like dew on the grass. What does it matter that I couldn’t keep her. The night is fractured and she is not with me.”— Pablo Neruda, from Poem XX (tr. by A.S. Kline); Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, 1924.
The Sea at Les Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, 1888, Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam.)
A star cluster glowing softly in the void with faint, reddish background galaxies in the spaces between.
by Judy Schmidt
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Zuhair Murad Spring/Summer 2019