Musings of a Boy
Sky above, earth below, a boy in between; stretched out on the grass, feeling the coolness of the ground on his back and legs, the heat of the sun on his face and chest. If he didn't think about it, let his mind drift, he could almost feel the world's pulse, the connections that made life possible.
Amaterasu, Gaia, Demeter, Kali, Cailleach Bheur; Apollo, Lugh, Thor, Ti-ra-wa: a few names among the thousands coined by the tiny creatures called humans. Names that barely touched the awful majesty of the reality the sciences uncovered.
The magic of names, words, and numbers. Name the monster under the bed, and it can't hurt you. When the Bible said that Adam named the animals, it meant that Adam had dominion over them. The ancients believed that a person's name was the secret path to the soul. Hence nicknames, titles, etiquette. Do not call the spirits by name, or they will come. Do not speak the name of the dead, or the ghost will return. Call it influenza, Ebola, AIDS, and you can fight the disease ravaging your body. With the right numbers, you can model anything from a staircase to a black hole.
Which words had more power? The sun as a flaming chariot, or the sun as a multi-billion-year nuclear reaction, destruction creating life and beauty? Lightning as the spear or hammer of a god, or lightning as a million-volt discharge of gathered static electrical potential?
Which was more humbling?
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Kentaro Washio watched his friend. At times like this, Kozaburo seemed to him something other than merely human. As if he were about to find the truth that would link everything in one vast, comprehensible whole.
Kozaburo's eyes opened. "The words got in the way again," he said, sitting up. "We need the words to think, and they get in the way."