I’ve considered myself a numbers guy for much of my life. One of my brothers’ many nicknames for me in elementary school was “The Wizard!” due to my facility with math such as calculating multiplication problems in my head faster than they could punch the digits into a Texas Instruments calculator. (Yes, spoken with an exclamation as they felt delight any time they said this aloud.) And yet, when Maria Popova put data up against metaphor when writing about Barry Lopez, my inner bookworm supersedes my knack for mathematics as she attests that:
Seven has no meaning to the human mind without an object — we need to know seven what in order to fathom its sevenness. This may be why data, no matter their numerical grandeur, hold poor sway over the human soul; why metaphor, with its tangible tapestry of abstraction and concreteness, can move the mountain of the mind more powerfully than any human implement.
I’m all for the both/and of qualitative yin and quantitative yang as I oscillate between anecdotes and numbers translating the exchange between letters and numbers.
A metaphor that has stayed in my memory rent free for multiple years is how Barry Lopez described the horizon when speaking with Fred Bahnson for The Sun’s longform interview in December 2019. They discuss mystery as a fixture in our lives since we cannot know everything that is or shall be, how there’s always what is beyond the horizon — informing how we live our lives, what we focus on and build toward even though we cannot see nor never know all that is out there. The interview is stunning, an exercise in storytelling filled with unexpected twists and turns, a matryoshka doll of stories. The section that I most enjoyed was when Bahnson repeatedly asked Lopez about his constructs of an elder, drawn on travel across the globe. I derived 17 definitions for an elder from their exchange:
- one who counsels with others;
- a great listener.
- someone who can speak at great length without saying I.
- takes life seriously; more serious than peers.
- can relate to children as human being, not as people needing to be taught or corrected;
- someone who makes children feel welcome and safe in a group.
- a person, in a village setting, who is hidden or invisible.
- one with a keen understanding of what works, what doesn’t work.
- possesses a depth of seeing larger patterns, address a bigger dynamic when an event is only one part.
- an astute observer of wrongs, mistakes, or missteps.
- great chronicler of successes and accomplishments.
- a person who condenses human experience;
- conveys a lot of wisdom by telling stories.
- likely to be disposed of when telling hard or uncomfortable truths; pushed into darkness, denied respect when contrary to dominant interests.
- sees the larger picture;
- sees what is missing;
- a repository of cultural wisdom; a purveyor of traditional values.
This interview was one year before Lopez’ death, in the depths of climate chaos of the anthropocene, and he described himself as “remain[ing] provisionally hopeful,” feeling an obligation to persist, to never give up. He paraphrased his mentor of nearly 40 years by saying:
“The only thing to understand is that you can never quit.” You can’t ever say, “Well, this is hopeless. We’re all going to go down the tube.” No. It’s not hope or despair or optimism you’re searching for; it’s a belief in humanity. Those feelings have, for many, developed under the umbrella of organized religion — being in service to a thing greater than the self.
As we said at home in my 30s: Keep going no matter what.
washing dishes: a father’s glimpses 