This inspiring image thanks to a post mentioning Fibonacci by Eric Bossick.
Unlike the exponential evolution in a Fibonacci sequence, words between us die. Fibonacci had it that 1+1=2; 2+1=3; that 3+2=5; that 5+3=8; that 8+5=13; that 13+8=21; that 21+13=34; that 34+21=55; that 55+??=?? Fun? And so on ad infinitum. So if we keep going, the exponential factor quickly becomes rather huge. But not our words. The words betwixt some of us shrivel, and decease. We do not add one idea to another to become two, to grow into five, eight, thirteen; we break off. It takes too much energy. It swallows up too much time? And unlike the fractals of chaos theory, in which evolution creates in spirals and proportions as elegant as the Golden Mean, or Divine Proportion (as divined by Fibonacci sequences,) we devolve into that which enervates rather than invigorates. And since verbs may grow confusions, we shut down.
The daily-ness of our lives has other dictates. Few of us are so pasteurized as to afford long hours of uninterrupted contemplation, let alone a discourse that wafts on ethereal breath. Our breathing is done to sustain us (albeit predominantly unconsciously.) Our meaning-making is contained by our familial. We use time to further our own interests. We confine our energies to the larger group. We have 'worldly' ambitions. We need to be fair to all the demands of life. We are uncertain as to the validity of our preferences. We can't be bothered with that which we cannot directly affect. Or we simply allow all to be. Such is the spiral of our dynamics, innately.
Bees and ants have much to teach us. Birds are more obvious. It is the esoteric and the subliminal and the abstract that challenges. One needs time, interest, energy, and that greatest demonstrator of intelligence at work, flexibility. Knowledge helps, but what use has a parrot for a key unless it can figure out how to insert, and turn? We use knowledge as handed down. It is our examination of it, and our adding to it that not only gives us better tools, but advances our adaptability, should we have the energy. Problem is, limitations of resources seriously affects inclination. (Much easier to Google Fibonacci than to catch the bus and go to the library.) Much easier to read all this, give a toss of the mental petard, and get on with tending to that daily task of living, let alone (by comment) to disclose uncertain, tentative, or avowed realms of thinking.
Einstein is purported to have declared, "I only want to know God's thoughts, the rest are details." Nice. "The Devil is in the details," someone else coined the phrase. Fibonacci, a medieval scholar, may well have been bedevilled by his own contentions. Mathematical certainties have inspired Euclid, Pythagoras, and confounded me. That 'Time' is relative is a notion my brain easily accepts; the precise proof thereof becomes too confabulating a matter for me. Faith is like that. Which part of Everything is not? (And if 'God' is everything?) End of my need for particulars. As such, Schrodinger's cat, as a theory, is fascinating. No need for this boy to recreate the experiment (to the relief of many a cat!) But is knowledge of Schrodinger's in-or-out-of-the-box theory necessary? Can we just accept that everything IS? And that we, being homo-sapiens-sapiens (when we are exercising our consciousness) 'need' not empirical proof?
"Feeling is all," declared e.e. cummings. Faith is like that. We remain hopeful that our feelings are commensurate, despite our lack of contact, our lack of words, our lack of shared ideas, our lack of ongoing knowledge of each other, our evident lack of connection. We easily 'care'. Yet can such 'feeling' still be intimate? In evolving do we integrate individual explorations? After all, which part of Everything is not? Aberrations? (In Fibonacci's exponentialism there are actually no missing numbers.) Still, we but meander from road to road in the forks of time, mayhap going gold with age. And while common sense has it that we each want only the best for each other, reality proves divisions. And therein may lie our minds' meanderings; or is it our hearts' accord?
This golden photo thanks to Quintin Ehman