Do you have any favorite words? I don’t mean something like pizza. I mean, I love pizza, but I don’t necessarily love pizza.
You likely responded to that with “Huh?” You certainly responded to that with “Did you take your meds today?”*
*It’s even more possible that you asked, “Where on earth have your posts been?” Good question, and I’ll admit that it’s been three weeks since my last post. In my defense, the election has been really entertaining–and I’ll also admit that this is a terrible defense. To give context back to this post, I am [s–l–o–w–l–y] working through a definition of proof: “an argument that convinces qualified judges.” The last few posts have dealt with “argument” and “convince.” This post begins (in a very oblique manner) a look at “qualified.”
What I mean is that while I love the object of the word pizza (i.e., I love the round, cooked dough that has a lot of tomato sauce, a lot of pepperoni, and a LOT of mozerrella mozzerrela mozz… cheese) the word itself…pizza…actually sounds a bit stupid: PEET-zuh
But I love the word transcend. There’s a certain rhythm to it, starting with the somewhat harsh “chir” sound (from the “tr”) and cascading down from there.
Of course, we think some words are beautiful because of the feelings they evoke. One example I came across was sumptuous. I mean, who doesn’t like a sumptuous meal? But the word itself sounds a bit odd: SUMP-chew-us*
*Put it all together and say “sumptuous pizza.” We Americans would melt at the very thought of that, but the sounds themselves are impossibly dumb: SUMP-chew-us PEET-zuh
Now, did I overthink that? Of course, I did…because I overthink everything.
But the point is, transcend is a beautiful word to say or hear. And, while I readily admit that there are many other beautifully sounding words, the word transcend seems to go beyond most others.
That seems appropriate: transcend effectively means “to go beyond.”*
*It literally means to “climb across”: trans- (“across”) and scend (‘climb”). The current use of the word carries over from the idea of being above and looking down (while climbing over).
In mathematics, there are transcendental numbers that “go beyond” the normal algebraic numbers.* There are transcendental functions that “go beyond” the normal algebraic functions.**
*An algebraic number is any number that is the solution to some polynomial
anxn + … + a2x2 + a1x + a0 = 0 where each ai is an integer.
And let that be a warning: if you ever complain about this blog again, I’ll throw another equation at you.
**You complained, didn’t you? I’m a gracious blog host and will let you off this time with just a definition: an algebraic function is any combination of addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, or taking roots.
We often speak of “transcendent beauty” or hear of a “transcendent athlete” because the description of such beauty or of such an athlete “goes beyond” normal words.
We sometimes try to describe the majesty of this blog, and the only acceptable answer is “Words fail me.”
But it is only when we transcend (or “go beyond”) something that we are able to truly describe or understand it.
Admittedly, that seems like a strong claim.
But I want you to consider how you would describe…you.
I don’t mean describing your habits. I don’t mean describing your likes or dislikes. I certainly don’t mean describing your political views.
I mean describe the physical you…starting with your facial features.
Did you ever stop to realize that you have never EVER seen your own face? I mean, yes, you’ve seen pictures of your face…you’ve seen a reflection of your face. But you’ve never EVER directly observed your own face.
Every concept you have about your own face (and every nightmare I have about my own) comes from those pictures or reflections that come from somewhere away from your own face. Pictures or reflections that…go beyond your own face. Pictures or reflections that…transcend your own face.
It is here that I can park for a moment and address the title of this post.
Did you ever notice that “the camera adds a few pounds”? And did you ever wonder why?*
*Of course you didn’t. Every single activity mankind has ever attempted–no matter how insignificant–is of more importance than asking why “the camera adds a few pounds.” But I’m here to prove that–no matter how insignificant you think you are–it could be worse: you could be me.
Consider that almost every time you “see” your own face, it is from straight ahead: either a reflection in a mirror or a photo where you are looking at the camera.*
*By the way, photos of ourselves often look a little bit “off.” Why? Usually it’s because photos seem to have some things “backwards.” For instance, “My hair is parted the wrong way!” No it isn’t. You’re just used to seeing it in the mirror going one direction. Everyone else–and the camera, too–sees it going the other direction.
Those “straight ahead” images always fail to capture the items that accurately show our actual weights–usually that sagging chin is only visible from the side.
In other words (or pictures in this case), I usually think I’m this gangster…
…when I’m actually this one:
Thus, the only way to know what I really look like is to “get outside of myself,” so to speak.
And this concept only gets deeper.
Usually, when I want to feel the texture of some fabric, I (being right-handed) touch it with my right index finger. But, if you really think about it–and I mean REALLY think about it–my right index finger has no idea of its own “texture.”
Of course, I know what my right index finger feels like, but only because I’ve touched my right index finger with other fingers (or any other part of my body for that matter).
Even though I use my right index finger to gauge the texture of all sorts of things, my right index finger can never tell–on its own–if its skin is too dry or oily.
Oh, sure, my right index finger can determine if something is different–i.e., I feel something on that finger. But it is only through the context of external observation–looking at my finger, touching it with other fingers, etc.–that I can determine if that different something is water or oil or grease or salsa or glue or…(you get the idea).
In other words, the one item I use the most for determining the texture of other items…cannot determine its own texture.
But that is always the case for describing…anything.
I can describe how soft a sweater feels–but the sweater itself can’t (even if it could talk).
I can talk about how spicy a taco is–but the taco itself can’t (even if it could talk…and even then, I don’t speak Spanish).
I know I’m about to greatly abuse your imagination when it comes to these objects being able to speak or think, but please hold on for a bit.*
*After all, reading this blog has been a great amount of abuse already. What’s a little bit more?
Even if the sweater could talk and think, it could only describe its own texture by having two different parts of the sweater come in contact. But Part A could only describe the texture of Part B, while Part B could only describe the texture of Part A.
In other words, Part A is able to make a judgment about Part B, but cannot make any judgment about its own self.
Even if my hand could talk and think, it could only describe its own texture by having two different parts of my hand come in contact. But my right index finger could only describe the texture of my right thumb, while my right thumb could only describe the texture of my right index finger.
In other words, my right index finger is able to make a judgment about my right thumb, but cannot make any judgment about its own self.
I color-coded the above paragraphs to make a point. The red paragraphs are a copy-and-paste of the blue paragraphs, just with the words “sweater”, “Part A”, and “Part B” replaced with “my hand”, “my right index finger”, and “my right thumb”.
You can even make your own!
- Choose any noun, labelled A.
- Choose one part of that noun, labelled B.
- Choose a different part of that noun, labelled C.
- Insert into the appropriate spots below:
Even if [A] could talk and think, it could only describe its own texture by having two different parts of [A] come in contact. But [B] could only describe the texture of [C], while [C] could only describe the texture of [B].
In other words, [B] is able to make a judgment about [C], but cannot make any judgment about its own self.
Let’s do this!!!
- Choose any noun, labelled A. [for example, A = firetruck]
- Choose one part of that noun, labelled B. [for example, B = siren]
- Choose a different part of that noun, labelled C. [for example, C = ladder]
- Insert into the appropriate spots below:
Even if [firetruck] could talk and think, it could only describe its own texture by having two different parts of [firetruck] come in contact. But [siren] could only describe the texture of [ladder], while [ladder] could only describe the texture of [siren].
In other words, [siren] is able to make a judgment about [ladder], but cannot make any judgment about its own self.
WHAT FUN!!!
Of course, the grammar is perhaps a bit choppy, and you probably read “WHAT FUN!!!” as “…uh, what fun?” but the principle remains the same:
It is only by transcending itself that something can actually make a judgment about itself.
And, if you think about it, “transcend itself” is a really tough thing to do.
But I’ll try to talk about that next time.
Quiet Contempt 