Martha’s Musicpad

My mother was a woman who knew her limits. She loved to work away from home, and she loved everything to be perfect. I mean perfect. Disorder threw her into a panic. So when she came home, entered the house, she would take her glasses off. Simple. Then she did not see the imprefections.

As I navigate through complexity theory and attempt to bring it under my control (anybody else want to laugh?) i am struck by what a sinner I am. I do not wish to relax ANY of my assumptions and try on the glasses that allow disorder to be what it is.

The further I read, the more I experience, the clearer it is to me that there is an order that emerges when I am willing to look.  Then I see what I have to work with.  Then I really enter in.