The great leader or the great moment is a yearning
that fulfills itself. Men contemplate the possibility of purpose as
explanation and yet the figurehead of purpose is an emotion. A sense
the political class has learned to recognize as the wellspring of
power. These things are promises.
remember where I was when President John Kennedy of the United States was
killed. Nor can I remember where I was when a man first stepped onto
the moon. These two events have not managed to stand like beacons in
memory for me. And yet I understand why they have for so many.
It is a joining of minds. The singularity. That sense of
Were this recognizable
characteristic of thinking an attribute of mind, a physical place in the
brain that itches until scratched, then necessarily there would in my memory
be alternate beacons I could hold up as representative moments.
Extraordinary though it might sound, I
cannot find such a place. Some would accuse me of belonging to that
branch of the tree alluded to as sociopath. Others would suggest I
consult a herbalist, or a neurosurgeon for help with dementia.
But to my way of thinking this lack of
place augurs well for our species.