shim·mer (sh
m
r)
intr.v. shim·mered, shim·mer·ing, shim·mers
1. To shine with a subdued flickering light.
2. To appear as a wavering or flickering image, as in a reflection on water or through heat waves in air.
n.
A flickering or tremulous light; a glimmer.
[Middle English shimeren, from Old English scimerian.]
To shine with a subdued flickering light. . . I like the sound of that. Tremulous also sounds exciting. I want more shimmering in my life. When I look at things closely, I want to find a bit of magic. I want things to be more than they are. I want subdued light to appear in all the dark corners.
I recently started reading a new book called: The Optimism Bias: A Tour of the Irrationally Positive Brain by Tali Sharot. It's a fascinating, well-written book. The author explains how optimism is often irrational but an important component in biological survival. I had to stop reading it. (For those, who don't need to cling to hopeful illusions, I recommend this book highly.) I was afraid it would affect my ability to see the shimmering. I was already having a hard time finding it in my life. If I am to harness the power of optimism, I need to maintain the illusion that it is rational and possible at least once in a while.
To whom do I give the power of determining what is real or unreal, what is rational or irrational? Scientists look for empirical evidence. It's a very effective paradigm for the scientific but I find it a bit too confining to apply to the totality of a life, especially to my life. I need the irrational, the hope of the impossible for those are the very things that lie just beyond the shimmer. Without the shimmer what remains?
It's not rational for children to believe in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy or the Easter Bunny but it is a lot of fun. Some of childhood's fondest memories are often rooted in these fantasies, a time when the world contained magic and the impossible was possible.
Years ago in a philosophy class, we read Plato's allegory of the cave. I think of it now. In the story, Plato describes a group of people who are chained facing a blank wall. They can not see what is behind them only what is in front. They watch the shapes of shadows cast on the wall. The shadows are illuminated by a fire behind. The shadows are not reality. It is the philosopher's job to point out reality.
I found this confusing. What made the philosopher so sure that he had the corner market on truth? Was a philosophical view really more accurate? Isn't a large part of reality relative? If I believe that I hear the hooves of Santa's reindeer on my roof, as a child, can a philosopher prove to me that I am mistaken? Should he/she?
Today, I sit in a chair facing a blank wall. On the wall, the shadows flicker and shimmer. I know that behind me are things I can not see. But the shimmering light on the wall is enough for today. I'm not ready to see beyond. . . not just yet. I'm enjoying the shimmer.
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