He wanted to have a theory all
great poets have theories even
if they're nuts (the theories that is):
Yeats's gyres, Pound's money…
…the poems spill out from
theories pure peas from piddling pods…
Walking along a path in Boyd Hill Park, an American, a Frenchman and a German were arguing about the superiority of their languages. "Well," said the American, looking around, "take the word 'butterfly.' You can see the color, and the action — sense the energy: it's a perfectly clear word." "Ah non non non, mon ami," the Frenchman replied. "The French word is papillon. The word itself is soft, light as a puff of air; close your eyes and you can feel the creature floating by you."
The German paused only a moment. "Und," he protested, "vot iss wrong mit Schmetterling?"
I remembered that old joke while watching the butterflies drift among our azaleas this spring. As the more energetic bees buzzed about their business, I realized that I'm more of a butterfly than a bee. The butterflies often seemed a bit tipsy, out for an afternoon of nectar-hopping; while the bees seemed angry, the vexed vibrations of their wings shaking the pollen loose. Maybe it's because the butterflies were on their way to Mexico, while the bees — all females — were wondering why they have to keep working for their hive.
Although I have a general direction (toward the good life, surrounded by family, friends and books), I'm easily blown about by the wind. I remember that at faculty meetings, before I retired, I had the unfortunate habit of agreeing with the person who'd just spoken, thus switching sides regularly during the long Wednesday afternoon sessions, before I fell asleep. My stint as faculty secretary didn't last long. "Dr. Meinke, will you read back that last motion, please?" "Um, hmm-mm…?"
Anyway, thinking about butterflies, I also thought about Chaos Theory (since we're Democrats, there's a natural attraction). In 1963, mathematician Edward Lorenz, studying weather patterns, described the "butterfly effect" in Chaos Theory, the idea being that small initial events in any complicated and sensitive system can make a huge difference farther down the line. A butterfly fluttering its wings in China can, through a long series of intricate connections, cause a storm in the Gulf of Mexico.
I like Chaos Theory because it's not pushy: it accepts both responsibility and randomness, but rejects long-term predictability (too complicated for us to figure out). It's like a good poem: it may not mean anything specific, but it leans toward meaning something, perhaps something beneath the surface; you can't predict how it will end, but when it does, you generally think something like, Wow, that's right! I should have thought of that!
The problem with Chaos Theory is that so far it doesn't seem to fit well with what scientists have long been searching for: a theory that explains everything, called GUT, or Grand Unifying Theory (sometimes called TOE, or Theory of Everything). It may fit in, however, with String Theory, which, according to NPR's Dr. Micho Kaku, is very promising; he thinks its latest versions — like TSDST (Twenty-six Dimensions String Theory) — may eventually be written concisely enough to fit on a hip T-shirt. Basically, some physicists think that by measuring the vibrations of matter on a sub-atomic level, multi-dimensional String Theory can pull the universe's "four forces" (Gravity, Electromagnetism, the Weak & Strong forces) together under one law. Again like poetry, scientific theories strive for surface elegance, inner depth and conciseness, like Einstein's famous E=MC2.
Physicists love acronyms. Besides GUT and TOE, for example, there's DNA (DioxyriboNucleicAcid), EMM (Einstein Meets Magritte conference, in Belgium 1995), M3K (Millenium 3000, playing on Y2K's end-of-the world scare), not to mention KISS (Keep It Simple, Stupid) and RTFM (Read The Fucking Manual). Poets never talk like that! However, one of my theories is that, with all their acronyms, physicists are our FARTs (First ARmchair Texters). But I Digress (BID).
Poet W. D. Snodgrass wrote, "There is a value underneath / The gold & silver of our teeth." I like to think that poets and scientists are working hand in hand, not so much to find answers, but to discover patterns and connections that already lie buried within us. This is interesting and admirable — but I hasten to add that it doesn't necessarily mean that we're all nice people (LOL). That butterfly I'm admiring may be a lush; that bee's got a stinger she's dying to use.
…His theory was to have a theory
you need mainly hunger & meanness
which live on theories
likes snakes on mice
but what could he do
in this generous sleepy town
at the end of the world
and him a vegetarian besides?
—From "Lines from Key West" by Peter Meinke (1991)
—Peter (www.petermeinke.com) and Jeanne's latest books are Lines from Neuchâtel (2009) and Lines from Wildwood Lane (2010).
This article appears in Apr 28 – May 4, 2010.