I like sitting here on the Richelieu River by the Chambly weir. I like the feel of the sun on my back, I like the leafy green of the park, but most of all I like the white noise of the waterfall because it blocks out the manic din in my head. This place lets me think; lets me mull over the philosophical and ethical issues plaguing my life.
Here I can tackle big questions like: abortion, euthanasia, and suicide; and little questions like: should I pursue an apology from my wife or let it ride; should I keep buying lotto tickets; is it wrong to jay-walk?
To me, the Chambly weir is a microcosm of civilized life. At the top of the weir, we have ideas and principles: pure, clear and smooth; like water in Laminar flow. Everything is ordered, everything is simple, everything moves smoothly as it falls over the weir.
Then these principles hit the rocks of reality, and all hell breaks loose. The water roils and boils as it fights itself to accommodate the twisted, rock-strewn inconsistency of the river bed. It becomes opaque.
Following all your principles in the real world is much the same. There are no absolutes, everything depends on everything. Where does one principle begin and another end, where do they overlap, where does one takes precedence over another? Is that principle even important? It’s all a frothy mess.
But the water doesn’t stay frothy like this too long, it straightens itself out and moves down river. It has accommodated itself and restored some semblance of order.
And that’s what happens in my mind as well. The cacophony of competing principles resolves itself in my mind, and a hierarchy of importance emerges. Maybe not so much for the big questions; I still need to come back and mull them over a little more. But I have reconciled the little questions: No, I won’t pursue an apology this time. Yes, I will keep buying lotto tickets; and yes, I will still jay-walk, (but I should check for cops first).