The New Sense

Saturday, June 15, 2002

B— seems to be completely over his paranoia. We strolled around town today, then ran like hell as the rain came down in torrents. He obviously hasn't spent much time downtown since he arrived in Montreal. He absolutely loved the Sun Life building, but didn't seem to care for the new skyscrapers.
While it rained we sat in the café in front of Place des Arts and did more people-watching, though there were slim pickings.
He talked to me about raindrops — about how each raindrop is only an object because we say it is. Sounded weird to me — an object's an object. I listened while he explained what he was talking about. "Molecules of water, under certain conditions, clump together in the sky around a speck of dust. Those clumps are part of the universe, but we define them as objects. The clumps exist in the reality that reaches beyond the limited experiences of our lives on this planet. But raindrops are not part of that universe."
"Why not?"
"A raindrop is a metaphor, whether it be a word on a page, a picture in a book or a thought in your mind. All are translations which help us deal with those clumps of water that fall from the sky. The clumps themselves are part of a larger process."
"But raindrops do exist."
"Do they? We can measure the size and weight of a raindrop. We can measure its speed. We can call it H2O or hydrogen dioxide. All this information may be useful in dealing with those clumps of water that fall from the sky. But all of it is just a metaphor. The objects we call 'raindrops' continue to fall, immune, blind and resistant to our efforts at capturing their essence."
"Okay, so what you're saying is that for raindrops, like anything in art, you can never capture their essence; it's impossible to achieve an accurate representation."
"What is an accurate representation of a raindrop? It's a question which has intrigued thinkers for centuries. But they couldn't see beyond the question. The answers can never be more than a reformulation of the question. A raindrop is a human invention — a metaphor. The part of the universe which we call 'raindrop' and reproduce in images is a fluctuation of form."
I think I opened my mouth at this point, but decided to go with the flow and let him carry on. He's obviously thought about this quite a lot.
"The matter and energy in the universe is arranged and re-arranged into different patterns, different forms. We define them as objects and use metaphors to describe some of these forms. The object we call a 'raindrop' is a fluctuation of the form of water, but water is just a fluctuation of the atoms of hydrogen and oxygen. And hydrogen and oxygen are fluctuations of still smaller particles. We are always inventing new metaphors to describe the matter and energy that make up those particles.
"The part of the universe we call 'raindrop' often falls into the sea, a lake, a river, a puddle or any of the other metaphors we have for a quantity of water. Some of the raindrop's molecules will already have separated during its fall. Some raindrops hit other raindrops and exchange water. When it hits the water a raindrop ceases to exist. A drop of water splashes back up, but it's not the raindrop."
"No shit, Sherlock." He smiled at this. At least he doesn't lose his sense of humour when he's getting all theoretical with me. "So a raindrop goes in, and something else comes out. Whoop-di-do."
"You're right — our metaphor has vanished — returned to a larger metaphor called 'water'. Yet all that's happened is that some water molecules, which are also just metaphors, have become part of a new pattern with other water molecules. All of the water molecules on Earth are arranged in ever-changing patterns. Even those that we call 'ice' change their pattern eventually. It's all part of the same substance. The only thing that changes is the form."
"Maybe I wasn't clear enough when I said, 'No shit, Sherlock'!"
He laughed out loud at this. Then he took a gulp of coffee and said, "The metaphors we call 'matter' and 'energy' are, like the raindrop, just parts of the same whole — the metaphor we call the 'universe'. Our ways of quantifying and describing the universe are attempts to understand the unknowable: the ever-changing patterns, forms and structures which make up reality."
"So what you're saying is that you'd really like to kiss me…"
"Well, some would say that the metaphor for the action we call a 'kiss' is nothing but a…"
And then I kissed him. He's a good guy, but boy, does he do too much thinking!
After the rain let up we walked back up St-Laurent. He thought the Screaming Hawk leather store was hilarious. Very grand, next to the cheap Arab import stores and scuzzy hotels. We rented a couple of movies and stayed in.
(Now Sunday) I was so tired again last night. Lucky I have time to write all this down while B—'s out at the laundromat. I think we'll go to the tam-tams this afternoon, though it looks like it might rain again.

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posted by Sara