From the third part of Thus Spoke Zarathustra:
“Verily it is a blessing and not a blasphemy when I teach: ‘Over all things stand the heaven Accident, the heaven Innocence, the heaven Chance, the heaven Prankishness.”
“‘By Chance’ — that is the most ancient nobility of the world, and this I restored to all things: I delivered them from their bondage under Purpose.”
He continues to argue that “a little reason” is “mixed in with all things,” as is a little wisdom. Nevertheless, he still asserts that “this blessed certainty I found in all things: that they would rather dance on the feet of Chance.”
When I finished reading this, I started walking, and the lyrics to the The Books’ song “Smells like content” came rushing into my head. I was lucky enough to see them perform at Neumos years ago and this song was one of the highlights, but instead of tainting my fuzzy memory with a video, I’ll just share the lyrics…but, really, you should listen to it:
Most of all, the world is a place where parts of wholes are described
within an overarching paradigm of clarity and accuracy.
The context in which makes possible an underlying
sense of the way it all fits together,
despite our collective tendency not to conceive of it as such.
But then again, the world without end is a place where souls are combined,
but with an overbearing feeling of disparity and disorderliness.
To ignore it is impossible without getting oneself into all of kinds of trouble,
despite one’s best intentions to not get entangled with it so much.
the statues are bleeding green.
And others are saying things much better than we ever could;
as the quiet become suddenly verbose.
And the hail’s heralding the size of nickels.
And the street corners are gnashing together like the gears
inside the head of some omniscient engineer.
And downward flows the garnered wisdom that has never died
we opened the box, we couldn’t find any rules.
Our heads were reeling with the glitter of possibilities, contingencies…
but with ever increasing faith we decided to go ahead and just ignore them,
despite tremendous pressure to capitulate with fate.
So instead, we went ahead to fabricate a catalog
of unstable elements and modicums and particles.
With not zero total strangeness for brief moments which amount
to nothing more than tiny fragments of a finger snap.
we’re furiously seeing green.
And the map has started tearing along its creases due to overuse…
when in reality it’s never needed folds.
And the air’s withholding the sound of its wellspring.
And our heads approach a density reminiscent of the infinite productivity of the center of the sun.
And therein lies the garnered wisdom that has never died.
leads to disappointment. If you don’t expect something big huge and exciting…
just, uh yea…