The Sculptor

Michelangelo famously claimed to be able to see his statues fully-formed in blocks of marble, waiting for him to reveal them. Similarly, I also sometimes claim things.

I'm not claiming to be Michelangelo's equal. He was, by all accounts, a very skilled artist. I am not. But our penchant for making claims is something we both share. We are not equals, but I could, in some sense, be seen as part of the same lineage: an unbroken line of claimers dating back to authoritative cavemen.

"Buffalo strong; need many spear," they might have claimed.

I don't have an interest in buffalo, and spears are now obsolete technology. But the essence of their statement is something I can recognise.

History can seem like a bewildering sea of activity. There have been so many people, living in such a wide variety of circumstances, that trying to situate yourself within them is almost impossible. What bearing does one atom have on the whole? What importance can be ascribed to a single monastery brick?

The further we zoom out, the more insignificant we become. But if we zoom further in - enough to make out the inoculation scars on our upper arms - we become not just an important thing, but the only thing.

It is only through our connection to others that we can hope to find a sense of perspective. The perspective will still be warped and subjective, but it will at least give us something to hold onto.

As I get older, I'm starting to compare myself to others more often. I don't know why this should be.

I suppose I just want to see where I stand in the League Table of Humans.

When I was younger, it was still early days. The rankings didn't mean so much because there was so much time in which to accumulate points.

But I have fewer years now. My range of possible finishing positions is getting smaller and smaller. Things are starting to settle down - people are finding their level.

I'm probably not going to beat Michelangelo, even though I (hopefully) have several years in hand. I'll really have to pull off something spectacular to climb above him.

We may both be equal in our propensity to claim things, but that's not really going to sway anyone. It's even less significant than goal difference.

I don't know what the measures of success are in the League Table of Humans. I like to think that money isn't too important a factor, but it's probably in there somewhere, maybe just above juggling on the the scale of human worth.

The factor that has the most weight is some kind of abstract spiritual well-being. I don't mean spiritual as in something beyond the natural world (because there isn't anything), but in the sense of something more profound than the number of cars you own, or the number of countries you've visited.

I think maybe a person's well-being isn't cumulative, but is only added up after you die. That's why people recant on their deathbeds.

At this point, I should probably say that I don't really know what I'm writing about here. At no point during this post have I had an objective, an argument, or an idea to convey. I've skirted round the edges of some interesting things, but haven't been able to put together a coherent message. I have, at least, written in a fairly serious tone, which may have bamboozled people into thinking that what I've said is somehow insightful.

That's the closest I can get. It might be that I have some kind of opposite charge to that of truth, and so we repel each other. I've tried to work my way around this natural law. I've attempted to approach truth with brute force. I've lashed myself to smaller truths, hoping they will carry me towards revelation.

But I can't change my charge. Truth will always be out of reach. I aspire towards it, but am doomed to fail. This awareness may seem like a kind of truth, but it isn't really. It's just an acceptance of falsity. All of the optimism and linguistic trickery and imagination in the world can't overcome the twin powers of magnetism and pragmatism.

All I can do is continue to write in the same style, still - despite dipping into meta-analysis - talking about nothing of any substance. And yet here I am, about to click the 'publish post' button.

What I call content may not be what you call content. For you, this might be an exercise in futility. For me, it is Monday. We may be packing different luggage, but our suitcases are equally heavy.

Where Michelangelo saw a block of pure white marble, I see a pure white text box. Where he frees the statue within, I chisel away blindly until you can all see is the black.