Small

I feel rather like the person in my picture: bent to the ground, too scared to look at all the vastness around me, which will make me realise how small and foolish I am. In that position, I am the only thing in my sphere of vision. And that's more than enough for me to cope with for now.

There's just too much in the world. In the past 12 hours or so this has been brought forcibly to my attention by observing 2 discussions in which I was hopelessly unqualified to participate - it was all I could do to vaguely follow what was being said. The first was to do with science and physics and evolution and things. Fascinating stuff, that makes the whole world look utterly different to how I'd been thinking about it that morning. The second was the political/economic debate on Brehaut's blog, which I've just read. Way over my head - just enough to make me fret about issues I will never understand, lament my own ignorance and ponder the associated stupidity of my having the right to vote.

I get so narrow minded in my cosy little academic world. When you're there, it feels like it's the whole world, and it feels desperately important. But it isn't. It's only one little thing. And figuring out theology is the same. And figuring out the pitiful little events in my heart and mind and life are the same. What does it all matter?

But, again, there's just too much in the world. There's only time in one little life to understand a few little parts here and there, so why not philosophy and literature and my few responsibilities and my own character? To even briefly survey all the aspects of life about which I am woefully ignorant would take up the rest of my days, leaving me none to do anything about it. I dunno, some people seem to manage it, and know about everything. I guess I'm just not made that way. And really of course no one is made that way. No one has enough time.

Which is why I begin to think (and I say this tentatively, aware of its foolishness and susceptibility to derisive laughter) that the answers to life lie in things like art and metaphor. Art and metaphor are shortcuts. They are substitutes for what we don't have the time or means or ability to figure out in detail. They derive from those who have had time to figure things out, and they provide us with the essence of answers - meaning without detail. Or, sometimes, they derive from ourselves, from our own discoveries that we need to capture in a meaningful way so that we don't have to go through the whole process again next time we need the answer. We have no choice but to rely on these things when faced with our own limitations. They might be completely wrong, but what else can we do? In the meantime they can be very beautiful and give a kind of perceived order to the chaos.

I feel like I'm sitting in the corner with my eyes shut and my hands over my ears, singing to myself and rocking back and forth. But what else can I do?

Tomorrow I probably won't feel this way, and will get on with it again. Trying to figure things out, that is. And maybe I'll be brave enough to stand up in the desert again, and accept my smallness amid the vastness. Maybe it won't be so bad once I try it. Though the last time I tried was pretty terrifying...