Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Thursday, December 13, 2012
A Piece of Pi
Suppose I made a pie.
It's a delicious pie, my favorite kind: frozen chocolate, effectively homemade chocolate ice cream in a crust of crushed graham crackers held together with butter and sugar.
Of course, now I have some choices as to what to do with this pie. I could eat it all myself, or I could eat half and give half away, or I could cut it in thirds and share it among three people... and, of course, the more people who wind up eating some of it, the less there is for each.
Pie is like that. It's limited; the only way to give everyone more is to make another pie. What I've been noticing lately, though, is that while not everything in the world functions the same way pie does, there are people out there who are very invested in treating all things as if they were pie.
Oppression works like pie: if you give it away, you stop having it, and that's scary for some people.
But the thing is, love doesn't. Love works much more like the number pi.
Let's say I decide that the first three digits of pi are mine, and then you come up to me asking for a piece of the number that same size. I've already claimed 3.14, but 159 is available, and now we have 3.14159 and a greater degree of precision. And then someone else comes along and wants a piece of pi. Great, now we have 3.14159258 between us, and our calculations are getting better. That's how love is, that's how justice is: the more of it you are willing to share, the more of it can come back to you.
It's a delicious pie, my favorite kind: frozen chocolate, effectively homemade chocolate ice cream in a crust of crushed graham crackers held together with butter and sugar.
Of course, now I have some choices as to what to do with this pie. I could eat it all myself, or I could eat half and give half away, or I could cut it in thirds and share it among three people... and, of course, the more people who wind up eating some of it, the less there is for each.
Pie is like that. It's limited; the only way to give everyone more is to make another pie. What I've been noticing lately, though, is that while not everything in the world functions the same way pie does, there are people out there who are very invested in treating all things as if they were pie.
Oppression works like pie: if you give it away, you stop having it, and that's scary for some people.
But the thing is, love doesn't. Love works much more like the number pi.
Let's say I decide that the first three digits of pi are mine, and then you come up to me asking for a piece of the number that same size. I've already claimed 3.14, but 159 is available, and now we have 3.14159 and a greater degree of precision. And then someone else comes along and wants a piece of pi. Great, now we have 3.14159258 between us, and our calculations are getting better. That's how love is, that's how justice is: the more of it you are willing to share, the more of it can come back to you.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Telling the Truth
Telling the truth means
my vision clouds,
my head spins,
my heart races,
and I think I'm about to faint.
Telling the truth means
putting myself in danger
when I have another choice.
Telling the truth means
giving up the privilege
that comes with being a liar.
Telling the truth means
another shaky step
towards becoming the person
I always wanted to be.
my vision clouds,
my head spins,
my heart races,
and I think I'm about to faint.
Telling the truth means
putting myself in danger
when I have another choice.
Telling the truth means
giving up the privilege
that comes with being a liar.
Telling the truth means
another shaky step
towards becoming the person
I always wanted to be.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)