The There There Letter: Zero, Zoos, and Zigzag
Three things from DAH.
DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. I pen, promote, and make change (not the coin kind).
First up this week, Zero …
I've been thinking about nothing this week. Or, more specifically, the human invention of zero. Yeah, I know: Does he have nothing more urgent to think about? Maybe I do, but I'm still thinking about zero. In the physical world we can count things. But zero is the absence of anything to count. It's literally nothing, the concept of which, so far as we know, exists only in our minds. It turns out that lots of animals recognize that nothing is less than something. But only humans use the absence of something (zero) to represent something. And we've only been using this conceptual, counting, and calculating tool, for a few thousand years. "It's the nothing that is," Professor Robert Kaplan is quoted in the article linked below. Perhaps math is properly magical. Perhaps it's the isolation of the current pandemic that inspires me to think of nothing. Or perhaps I'm getting ready to really clear my mind and meditate.
The mind-bendy weirdness of the number zero, explained
Second up this week, Zoos …
I suspect that zoos still exist. Right now, however, for me, they exist only in my memory and imagination. I'm on the fence (ethically, morally) about whether zoos should exist. But, if they do, I'd like them to behave as the Oakland Zoo did when it realized it had an elephant problem. When it realized that the zoo itself was an elephant problem (article linked below). I have two very personal zoo memories.
Number One. My father, the first person in his family to attend college (he earned a Ph.D.) talking to his mother, my grandmother. She asked him when he was going to get a proper job, at a zoo, since he had a degree in zoology. It ought to have been funny, but it makes me sad.
Number Two. Christine surprised me for a birthday, collecting me after a business trip intending us to visit the Oakland Zoo to see the elephants (which I'd been longing to do). But there was a monsoon of a storm, so we skipped the Oakland Zoo and headed to San Francisco where we were to spend the night. As we drove by the San Francisco Zoo, the rain appeared to be letting up so we thought, "Let's visit this zoo!". We paid and entered and the monsoon began again. The zoo was almost empty. The animals were all either in shelter, or standing still with the rain torrenting down upon them. A memorable experience, but it, too, made me sad.
I really truly believe that elephants exist, at least for now, and that makes me happy. I love even just the idea of elephants. For them to be real, and countable, delights me. And if there are to be zoos, I'd like them to make me happy.
After difficult lessons, Oakland Zoo a leader in elephant welfare
Third up this week, Zigzag …
No, not rolling papers. I wouldn't blame you for suspecting that, after reading the first two items this week. Nor do I mean the wine brand (ZigZagZin) I worked on some years ago. A zigzag is a life pattern for me, identified in retrospect. Thinking back, I link each zig and zag so that they are justified, to me, at least. I'm able to focus but I'm so, so tempted by each opportunity to zig or zag as something new catches my attention. I've existed long enough now to accept and embrace my zigzagginess. It's just part of me, and so I've added it to my bedtime silent thank-yous. May I dream of nothing and elephants and indirect paths. May we all accept and embrace our existential essences.
Excerpted: Zig Zag: The Surprising Path to Greater Creativity
And a bit more ...
THE ZIGZAG BOY
(author unknown)
I know a little zigzag boy,
Who goes this way and that.
He never knows just where he puts,
His coat or shoes or hat.
If you are not a zigzag child,
You'll have no cause to say
That you forgot, for you will know
Where things are put away.
And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver’s poem "Sometimes" …
DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. I pen, promote, and make change (not the coin kind).
First up this week, Zero …
I've been thinking about nothing this week. Or, more specifically, the human invention of zero. Yeah, I know: Does he have nothing more urgent to think about? Maybe I do, but I'm still thinking about zero. In the physical world we can count things. But zero is the absence of anything to count. It's literally nothing, the concept of which, so far as we know, exists only in our minds. It turns out that lots of animals recognize that nothing is less than something. But only humans use the absence of something (zero) to represent something. And we've only been using this conceptual, counting, and calculating tool, for a few thousand years. "It's the nothing that is," Professor Robert Kaplan is quoted in the article linked below. Perhaps math is properly magical. Perhaps it's the isolation of the current pandemic that inspires me to think of nothing. Or perhaps I'm getting ready to really clear my mind and meditate.
The mind-bendy weirdness of the number zero, explained
Second up this week, Zoos …
I suspect that zoos still exist. Right now, however, for me, they exist only in my memory and imagination. I'm on the fence (ethically, morally) about whether zoos should exist. But, if they do, I'd like them to behave as the Oakland Zoo did when it realized it had an elephant problem. When it realized that the zoo itself was an elephant problem (article linked below). I have two very personal zoo memories.
Number One. My father, the first person in his family to attend college (he earned a Ph.D.) talking to his mother, my grandmother. She asked him when he was going to get a proper job, at a zoo, since he had a degree in zoology. It ought to have been funny, but it makes me sad.
Number Two. Christine surprised me for a birthday, collecting me after a business trip intending us to visit the Oakland Zoo to see the elephants (which I'd been longing to do). But there was a monsoon of a storm, so we skipped the Oakland Zoo and headed to San Francisco where we were to spend the night. As we drove by the San Francisco Zoo, the rain appeared to be letting up so we thought, "Let's visit this zoo!". We paid and entered and the monsoon began again. The zoo was almost empty. The animals were all either in shelter, or standing still with the rain torrenting down upon them. A memorable experience, but it, too, made me sad.
I really truly believe that elephants exist, at least for now, and that makes me happy. I love even just the idea of elephants. For them to be real, and countable, delights me. And if there are to be zoos, I'd like them to make me happy.
After difficult lessons, Oakland Zoo a leader in elephant welfare
Third up this week, Zigzag …
No, not rolling papers. I wouldn't blame you for suspecting that, after reading the first two items this week. Nor do I mean the wine brand (ZigZagZin) I worked on some years ago. A zigzag is a life pattern for me, identified in retrospect. Thinking back, I link each zig and zag so that they are justified, to me, at least. I'm able to focus but I'm so, so tempted by each opportunity to zig or zag as something new catches my attention. I've existed long enough now to accept and embrace my zigzagginess. It's just part of me, and so I've added it to my bedtime silent thank-yous. May I dream of nothing and elephants and indirect paths. May we all accept and embrace our existential essences.
Excerpted: Zig Zag: The Surprising Path to Greater Creativity
And a bit more ...
THE ZIGZAG BOY
(author unknown)
I know a little zigzag boy,
Who goes this way and that.
He never knows just where he puts,
His coat or shoes or hat.
If you are not a zigzag child,
You'll have no cause to say
That you forgot, for you will know
Where things are put away.
And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver’s poem "Sometimes" …
Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.
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