Dechaosification

Chaos is what entropy leaves behind. Entropy is always at work (rust never sleeps) on my microfarm. My little farmlet, which in my mind’s eye is always on the verge of achieving the Amish ideal -- with everything spic and span and neat and clean if only I had the time to keep it spic and span and neat and clean -- keeps returning to chaos whenever I turn my back.

Just yesterday my decrepit old globe willow tree, which needs to be trimmed way back anyway, shed a huge branch – almost half the tree, so it seems – onto the path leading to South Arroyo by the dock. Cutting this branch into firewood would take over an hour. First, I would have to string my heavy-duty extension cord from the nearest outlet 150 feet away. Then I would have to take my electric chainsaw and saw the branch up into firewood lengths. Then I would have to load the firewood into my wheelbarrow, and trundle it over to my firewood pile, which would take several trips. Then, I would have to gather the twigs and small branches together, and burn them out on the sandbar. Better make that two hours. And this is just one fairly minor task confronting me.

In the meantime, I need access to South Arroyo so I can get sand to seal the edges of a form into which I will pour concrete for the foundation of my Flood Refuge room. So now I have to park my wheelbarrow next to the globe willow tree, carry buckets around the other side of the tree, fill them with sand, carry the heavy buckets of sand back to the wheelbarrow, dump the sand into the wheelbarrow, and from there on I’m back to Plan A.

Entropy is relentless. It never stops. I want to kick back a little, but no... the stoplight on the Mazda Protege needs to be changed. The chimney flashing needs to be replaced because the corrosive wood smoke condensation has corroded through it. The Russian Olive grove needs to be cut down because it’s become a fire hazard. The jasmine vine on the office roof needs to be cut back because it’s become a fire hazard. The cane next to the river needs to be cut back because it’s become a fire hazard. I’ve got to collect propolis and install mouse guards on all my hives. On and on and on and on, and as I scratch jobs off the top of the list, new ones are added to the bottom.

Sometimes the process of dechaosification seems like firing up a steam engine. I’ve got to do a lot of work before I can even get going. First, I’ve got to collect enough coal to fire the burner, and then I’ve got to fill the boiler with water. Then I need to build a hot roaring fire in the firebox and wait till the water heats up. Once the water starts to boil, I’ve got to develop a nice head of steam. Only then can I ease the throttle forward and start huffing and chuffing along the track. Chaos, here I come! Better watch yo ass cause I’m coming to gitcha!

And for a while, I manage to kick ass on the chaos, until I get tired and need to take a break. The exact moment I stop, the forces of entropy once again take the upper hand. Rust never sleeps, but I do.

We all know who’s going to win in the end, don’t we? Ideally, this knowledge would encourage us humans to be a little bit more humble, to live in a more respectful manner. Maybe we ought to run around naked, live in houses made of leaves and moss, and eat fruit and sprouts. Oops, the hippies tried this already. Is anybody still doing it?

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Little-known chaos fact: Once, while giving a speech, former New Mexico Senator Joseph Montoya pronounced “chaos” to rhyme with “Taos.” I do love New Mexico and its little quirks.




The Obama Thing Revisited

When Neil came over yesterday to help me pour concrete, it took him exactly eight seconds to figure out that “The Obama Thing” is actually a refrigerator magnet. Well, duh! Fortunately, we’re talking about subjective reality here, so for us, it will always be “The Obama Thing.”



The Metaphysics of Hope

I don’t know where this stuff comes from. Metaphysics of Hope, indeed. When my peanut brain (henceforth to be called L’il Peanut) heard that the title of an upcoming blog post was going to be “The Metaphysics of Hope,” it rebelled. “The Meta-what of what? I just explained everything there is to know about Reality and you want me to do what? Give me a frickin’ break!” So OK, L’il Peanut, take a break, then. For the next little while we’ll talk about simple things, like hay, dechaosification, and parallel conversations. Maybe next week we’ll get to the Metaphysics of Hope – which admittedly is a fabulous title, but I frankly don’t know if there actually is such a thing as the metaphysics of hope. Or hope, for that matter – at least not in the objective sense.