This is not a new insight, of course. Most present to me is an observation put forth by Michel Serres, who complains that we pay more attention to the label on the bottle of wine than we do to its contents. In the age of ideas in which we live, we have lost the ability to use our senses effectively, relying too much or even solely on ideas to help us navigate the mind-boggling and neurosis-producing embarrassment of choices that our economy produces. Curiously, this condition does not afflict our politics, at least in the US, which remains meagre in its offerings, a dysfunction that is different from systems that are sclerotic with choices and parties that support them, those of Italy for example, and of other European countries, but more on that later.
No, the problem is our brains, Serres again, have developed smooth neural pathways that channel the infinitely complex barrage of stimuli that we experience daily into a few manageable boxes, categories to which we apply words, containing more words that constitute ideas. How dull.
Do I like this wine? Well, I like this or that, and so what does it say on the label, is this or that listed? Great, then I will like this wine. In fact, I like it already. Does the label tell a good story that really have nothing to do with the taste of the wine itself? Great, then I know I will like the taste, because I will like what the taste represents.
This idea came to me while watering my backyard, (a break from the dymondia in the front, which all of us appreciate, I am sure), which I am preparing for clover, which will be less demanding of time and water than the California Native Bent Grass.
As I sprayed down the dirt to settle it and prepare it for sowing, I noticed that the persimmon tree was looking a little haggard. I began to enumerate the features that indicated this to me: curled leaves, pale leaves, drooping branches . . . ) and then I thought better. The word game was working its reductive magic on my mind, so I decided to exit that route and merely observe the tree as best as I could without using language.
Was this pre-lingual approach more comprehensive than a worded and reasoned one? I am not sure. Since I did not need to communicate the signs of plant dehydration to anyone, the worded approach seemed at least superfluous, is not also restricting. So I gave the persimmon a good drink and hope it will look better soon.
About my carpets and mats, the floor coverings I mentioned at the opening of this piece. Again, boggled by choice, I tried to apply reason in making my selection, but reason as a tool, much like the scientific method, is often too sharp to be of use in these situations. Should I pick this door mat because it is made of natural fibers? That is a good reason, but I just did not like the mat as a thing and it did not mix well with the other items in the room. Should I pick this other one because it matches the color and texture of the walls? Again, a sound reason, but not one that led to a good selection. I know, I will just pick the mat that I like the best, ignoring other qualities and contexts, so that even if it does not fit into the ecology of the room, at least I will like it of and for itself. Yet again, a failed strategy.
Serres again: Forget reason. One can only sample, sample, sample. Want to buy a house? Scroll through the thousands of listings available on any good online real estate site, forget the filters. Want to find a wine you like? Taste, taste. taste! One after the other, until you find one that makes you go: hmmm!
Serres loves lists, making them, thinking through them, traveling along them. The items in lists are not ideas, they are items, not irreducible things, or things without representations or which are not representations themselves, but they are first and foremost things nonetheless.
And one should choose the thing over the idea.
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