When the Unknown sneaks up
and plops down squarely facing us,
we seek shelter with the
Known
and hold its hand.

Then, bit by bit, we loosen our grip as
the what/why/who/how of it
takes form out of the mist and becomes
Known.

When Strangeness rounds the corner
and looks us directly in the eye,
we seek shelter with the
Familiar
and hold its hand.

Then, bit by bit, we loosen our grip as
the what/why/who/how of it
takes form out of the mist and becomes
Familiar.

When Randomness pops out of the dark
and dances around in front of us,
we seek shelter with the
Purposeful, the Controlled, the Patterned
and hold its hand.

Then, bit by bit, we tighten our grip as
the what/why/who/how of it
does not take form out of the mist,
but stays Random.

And Randomness –
Untouchable, Unreachable, Untamable, Unknowable –
stands tight and will only be accepted for what it is.

So…
We slap coats of paint on Random and draw Purpose’s face on it.
We grab Control’s old comfortable clothes and put them on Random.
We slather Random with wax and sculpt it in the likeness of Pattern.

* * *

We spend great sums of energy fashioning notions
to more easily wrap our minds around.

(Luck and Chance)
Wealth, popularity, success all owe much
(and sometimes all) to Randomness

(“They” did this to me. “They” did that to me.)
We draw from our experience to create theories of conspiracy.
When in fact it just happened…at Random.

(Lightning struck my house. The Gods are angry with me.)
We fashion the cores of our philosophies to explain Randomness.
But it was just Randomness fooling around, forever ducking any explanation.

* * *

When Randomness does little harm, we can toy with it,
looking over this strange animal, wondering, fascinated
by the creature.

When Randomness threatens, though, it seems to be toying with us,
flicking disaster at us like a crazed beast.

We wail in our agony at Random’s acts of violence.
(Why me?!)
We cry out in our suffering at Random’s acts of illness.
(Why mine?!)
We ball our fists to strike out at Random’s acts of death.
(Why?!)

So we try to put a purpose to bad things…to avoid them.

So we try to put a leash on bad things…to control them.

So we try to find a pattern to bad things…to change them.

We try our mightiest to avoid looking Randomness full in the face.
(For who of us willingly embraces the total abstraction of
free-floating Uncertainty.)

We refuse to flow with Life’s river, to simply accept
things we cannot control.

We think that Randomness is helplessness.
And this is not our way.



Harry W. Yeatts Jr.