Newton Bigelow

I love gadgets. Whether they’re nuts and bolts or made of code, litlle gizmos that do cool stuff are a constant source of delight.

But.

Pile one on top of the other, and another on top of that, and  they stop being so cool. How many websites have you seen with so many little flashing boxes and buttons that you can’t tell what the point of the site is? And how many of us, and I definitely include myself in this, have a desk so covered in wires, connectors, power cords and carrying cases that we don’t even remember what they’re all for?

There’s always the temptation to add just one more cool thing to our collection. I do it less than many people I know, but way more than others. And it’s not just that these things take up space. They can also be huge time sinks. I mean, if you have the toy, you’re obligated to play with it, right?

Simplification seems like the answer, but I’m not even sure where to start. I can see giving away all my extraneous widgets, except I feel like I have play with them just one last time.

Or maybe two…

Image by timparkinson, used under a CC license.

I think what I like about fungus is the direct example it provides of new life arising from rot. True, fungus often looks bizarre and even disturbing, but you can’t deny it has a complex (and very often gorgeous) structure. That these new forms are sustained by decaying plant and animal life is to me a hopeful thing.

We’re currently surrounded by signs of rot. Some examples: The economy is nosediving.Our government continues to show signs of succumbing to corruption. The cancerous growth of bigotryis eating whatever goodwill last fall’s elections helped foster.

All true, and all real dangers. But if things really are collapsing, maybe we can take some comfort from our fungal friends. Our world may all be falling apart, but who knows what new and fantastic structures may grow on its carcass?