Onion Eyes

The onion reminds me of my frailty. This simple vegetable brings me to tears and there is nothing I can do about it. It’s easy to forget how fragile I am. The best technology can do is to hide my vulnerability; the worst is to allow me to forget it’s truth.

Billions of years of serendipity have allowed me the grace of existence in this world. Meanwhile it is all I can do to rise slightly above the chaos, knowing the whim of chance can take it all away. I come from a long evolutionary line of stupendous bad-asses. So do onions. All the denizens of this world do. Except for the most powerful; they come from nothing, and are all around us.

The onion reminds me to strive for clarity. To persist through the fog. To try harder. I now have a delicious dinner.

i see _why, he wanted one in his book

The Chasm of Compromise

You and your friend are trying to decide whether or not to jump across a chasm. You want to jump across to the other side where you will be rewarded with delicious berries. You friend wants to stay put and eat the so-so berries here. So you decide to compromise: you each jump halfway across the chasm and die.

Not all situations are chasms, but the really important ones usually are. Compromise can kill you; go for consensus if you can. If you can’t, go alone.