Nature pursues perfection.

Take the sunflower.

The angle between the flower’s seeds happens to be Φ, the golden ratio. Which is (1+√5)/2. Which is (1+1/(1+1/(1+1/(1+1/…), which is the most perfect irrationally number there is — the hardest to approximate with any rational number.

Each sunflower independently derives this relation and spreads the seeds in its face, striving to align with this universal perfection.

Now imagine a nature where all sunflowers succeeded – each identical to the next. Fields and fields of sunny perfection gazing back at you. No aberrations – no flaws.

Cold. Sterile.

But rejoice! Each seed fails, it’s own unique way, to achieve this ideal. A micron here, a millimeter there. Chaos tugs against the warriors reaching for their goal, moves them off their target, and in the battle another picture emerges.

One of warmth, of music, of contentedness, and of life.

Or in other words, natural beauty comes from the maniacal desire to attain perfection; but not quite getting there.

All that matters is each day I try to lay my seed perfectly, accept the inevitable failure, and try, try again.

My prior experience makes me a big believer in Bayes‘ theorem,
But I’m open to evidence I’m wrong.

The truth is I don’t need to worry about moving forward;
time will do that for me.

Instead, I must learn to surf the tsunami of my life,
or float in the placid stillness of my soul,
or both,
as the tide inexorably brings me to the beaches of my death.

Socrates told the truth,
And he died for it.

But we all die someday,
And Socrates died happy.

As he approached God
Kneeling under One,
Gabriel saw how small he was,
How bounded the volume of his life was, and
How infinite the area of God’s love was
As it surrounded him.

In joy
He blew his horn.