Off A Side Road Near Staunton
Some nothing afternoon, no one anywhere,
an early autumn stillness in the air,
the kind of empty day you fill by taking in
the full size of the valley and its layers leading
slowly to the Blue Ridge, the quality of country,
if you stand here long enough, you could stay
for, step into, the way a landscape, even on a wall,
pulls you in, one field at a time, pasture and fall
meadow, high above the harvest, perfect to the tree line, then spirit clouds and intermittent
sunlit smoky rain riding the tops of the mountains,
though you could walk until it’s dark and not reach those rains—
you could walk the rest of the day into the picture
and not know why, at any given moment, you’re there.
Stanley Plumly
We live in the Information Age. There is so much information readily available today that mankind’s principal task of the moment is not to ingest that information, but rather to learn how to manage, massage and maintain it.
Much of this information is not new, just newly available in much more accessible formats than previously – witness the recent on-line postings of digital copies of Issac Newton’s notebooks by Cambridge University, postings which allow ordinary mortals instant access to material long hidden away in restricted library archives due to its fragility and importance.
Some of this information is no more than supposition of the possible, such as is the case with the current search for the Higgs Boson, the so-called “God Particle”. The mathematics that led to the search, the facts of the search, and information about the means of the search (the Large Hadron Collider) are real and knowable; the existence of the particle itself remains a mysteriously entrancing mathematical hypothesis. But the fact that the hypothesis exists is important information, since it is a cornerstone of our current assumptions about the physical laws underlying the existence of our universe.
Perhaps it is better to say that we are adrift in the Information Age and wallowing in a possible information overload. Having said this, I am not overly concerned about this state of affairs, for we are still at the start of the Information Age and a great deal of creativity is being exerted about how to wrestle this information monster to the ground and tame it. Human creativity being what it is, I am fully confident that the information beast will be tamed, both because that’s what humanity does when first faced with any new challenge and because it was human creativity that created the beast in the first place.
What I am concerned about is something quite different. I am concerned whether those who must exercise the necessary creativity to tame the information beast will be well enough grounded in matters of basic importance as they conduct their work. The information beast is an extremely complex animal and, as with all things complex, it will be easy for someone working with it to become so involved with detail that he or she forgets the simpler rules that should provide the necessary basic guidance needed to arrive at ecologically friendly solutions.
In other words, I am concerned whether those who are wrestling with the beast will, from time to time, take enough reflective breaks in their work to consider the voices of nature, the voices of their fellow human beings and the beauty of the world we share.
There are many ways to tame a beast, and often the most direct solution yields the greatest immediate impact while being the least efficacious solution for the needs of the long run. Consequently, I am convinced that adherence to simple goals is the only wise way to solve complex issues. At the heart of all matters of complexity lie a few simpler strands of data that twist and combine in the myriad ways of complexity. If one will only take the time to find a way through to see and comprehend these central, simpler strands of data, effective, enduring solutions are more likely to be found.
As an aside, I am convinced that many use the concept of complexity as cover for a propensity to engage in rapacious acts. After all, the more complicated one can make something, the more likely one can find an argument that will justify some action that would otherwise be seen as a wholly self-serving.
I believe that in order to be able to identify these simpler constituent elements, you must be well-grounded in the real world and must take time for adequate reflection in order to see them clearly. We live in a world that gives the concept of “reflection” very short shrift. We operate in our world at full speed, and speed is the basic enemy of reflection. Speed makes us hit the send button before re-reading our text; speed urges us make snap decisions without the benefit of personal reflection or peer review.
The antidote to speed is reflection. Reflection is made possible by a basic grounding in the world in which we live and an appreciation for its beauty and fragility. Such grounding can be found in various ways: from time simply spent on an outdoor walk to an enduring appreciation for the arts which, themselves, are reflective efforts seeking to extol some aspect of this fragile beauty. I leave it to each person to find their own form of grounding. What I do know from experience is that a lack of such grounding is the greatest cause of most failures.
In short, go and smell the roses. There are simple reasons roses are a cliche: they are beautiful; they smell wonderful; and the manner of their evolution is mystifying. Take the time to think about why roses have excited so many for so long. Then, with the roses firmly in mind, reflect upon the precepts you wish to hold dear and how you are going to adhere to those precepts in a world that constantly operates at speed. Then think of those precepts as the roses which must grace any world in which you chose to live.
I think visually. So, when I am presented with a new set of conditions and asked for my professional assessment, I usually begin with my feet firmly placed upon my desk while contemplating what the parties are trying to accomplish, why they are trying to accomplish it, and why it all matters. I then try to imagine a commercial world that effectively deals with their underlying commercial concerns, a commercial world which, at a minimum, will coexist with my roses and which might even nurture them if constructed properly. For if my roses are allowed to exist and thrive in my resulting construct, then my artificial construct and the real world can coexist amicably and peacefully.
I do not believe that anyone can do this without seeing our world as it is, without traveling Stanley Plumly’s side road near Staunton. If you can’t take the time to find and travel that side road, you aren’t likely take the time to reflect upon the consequences of your proposals.
So, please, go and smell the roses – for my sake, if not for yours.
