Scientific neologism is itself just linguistic evolution gone self-conscious, as science is self-conscious common sense.

And philosophy, in turn, as an effort to get clearer on things, is not to be distinguished in essential points of purpose and method from good and bad science.

Wilard Quine, Word And Object

Regardless of how the story came to be, part of the pleasure of reading it lies in this: what we first felt as waste or indirectness (digression) turns out to be exactly what elevates the story “out of the plane of its original conception” and makes it so complex and mysterious. What at first seemed like a digression is understood to be beautifully efficient.

A story means, at the highest level, not by what it concludes but by how it proceeds. Our story proceeds by a method of persistent self-contradiction. If one aspect of it seems to be expressing a certain view, a new aspect of it will appear and challenge that view.

The story is not there to tell us what to think. It is a structure to help us think. The story wants its reader to stay off autopilot, to stay alert to the possibility that it (and the reader) might be solidifying around some too-simple concept and in the process becoming false. So, it keeps qualifying itself until it qualifies itself right out of the business of judgement.

We keep trying to get to a place of stability, to understand the story as being “for” or “against” something, so we can be for or against that thing too. But the story keeps insisting that it would rather not judge.

“As long as you don’t decide,” the story gently reminds us, “you allow further information to keep coming in.”

Question: “Is X good or bad?”

Story: “For whom? On what day, under what conditions? Might there be some unintended consequences associated with X? Some good hidden in the bad that is X? Some bad hidden in the good that is X? Tell me more.”

George Saunders, Swim In Pond In Rain

Cacti are consistent, dependable producers of sugar and protein. Their seeds are dispersed by the animals and birds that also eat the fruit.

To:ta hanam, or cholla (CHO-Yuh), are not so lucky. Their fruit is not very tasty and doesn’t usually produce viable seeds. These cacti, sometimes called “Jumping Cholla,” need a different way to spread out and reproduce.

They hitchhike, waiting for a ride from unsuspecting animals or o’odham (humans). Even though cholla joints don’t actually “jump,” the spines on the cholla are designed to grab ahold and hang on to anything that gets too close.

Organ Pipe Interpretive Sign