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date: 2019-08-19
weight: 2
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*February 13, 2014:*

<div class="verse">I wonder if the snow loves the trees and
fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you
know, with a white quilt, and perhaps it says, "Go to sleep,
darlings, till the summer comes again."

<em>- Lewis Carroll</em></div>

I've mentioned ritual before, but I think that's tied into the larger feeing
of portentousness. Ritual is one way to sate that sense of intense meaning
surrounding an act or an object.

<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en"><p>A goose is dumb. A thousand geese
darkening the horizon is a portent. Mindless honking, individually
directionless, collectively unstoppable</p>&mdash; Makyo (@drab_makyo) <a
href="https://twitter.com/drab_makyo/statuses/433658156988628992">February 12,
2014</a></blockquote>
<script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script>

Any little thing can carry meaning for one person far outweighing what it
might mean to others.  Something about flocks of geese terrifies me.  It's not a
logical fear, it's a sense of foreboding. It's not the geese themselves, it's
the concept of geese, the lack of any ritual to solve the problem of geese.

<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en"><p>A goose is tasty. Geese taste
like horror. Acrid tang of ill omens *froth*</p>&mdash; Makyo
(@drab_makyo) <a
href="https://twitter.com/drab_makyo/statuses/433658390103879680">February 12,
2014</a></blockquote>
<script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script>

It's dumb.  Geese are dumb.  There's no reason I should feel any sort of
emotion at all surrounding geese, but I do.

<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en"><p>Why are geese so portentous? Why
do they cause anxiety? Did I take my meds this morning?</p>&mdash; Makyo
(@drab_makyo) <a
href="https://twitter.com/drab_makyo/statuses/433658641384607744">February 12,
2014</a></blockquote>
<script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script>

Ritual is like that.  There is some level of meaning that's inexpressible
except if you can find a way to come at it from the side.  Use words like
'portent'.  Describe it as an odor, a sense, a mystery.  Ritual and sensation
are wily and wary critters that want nothing less than to be identified, pointed
out, made plain.  You're supposed to just go along with the ritual and accept
the portentous as fact.
