the lost man chronicles
51. the microcosmos
i looked at everything through a microscope today. metamorphic rocks, granules of sand, bits of a muffin, random bugs, petals, pistils, wings and all sorts of things small—and all of it was interesting.
yet, the most intriguing of all was the examination of my self under the magnifying lens—corn rows of follicles, mine fields and mountains of scars and scabs, dry creek beds of skin, and forests of hair. it was enlightening to see how truly ugly up-close i am.
the unprimmed me was about as pretty as the rows of rose thorns on the legs of all the unsuspecting insects which were to become part of the experiment of the day. and yet, once your eye acclimates to the intimate peer, much of what one is privy to see becomes dear, splendid and beautiful. for you begin to understand a little more of the enigma, and the subsequent appreciation can move one to entertain more than the usual swaths of preconception and prejudice.
the sliver of extra time spent aesthetically dissecting not only allows one to define life more precisely, but bestows an extra ordinary purview, a super insight into how small we might actually be in the awesome realm of the universe, an ever-expanding spans that offers a bewildering eternity for mere mortals to discover, undo, uncover and reconstrue the mystery of the microcosmos.
the insight in the middle .50 52. just like Keanu