On the butterfly effect

How little in life is predictable. If we do not know the precise initiating action, say the science folk, we cannot, technically, consider a system to be other than chaotic. We proceed, in fact, toward confusion.

How true for the household.

What an axiom for the weekend outing.

A canon, as well, for the weatherman, beset with brides.

And what a broad and lovely technical term is this brand of uproar. So warm and friendly toward distractible people.

Chaos has no obvious intent. No agenda, as we might say in corporate terms.

It is, instead, a frontier where the action is as pure and unpremeditated as the growth of a snowflake.

In my experience, and I do feel that my arena is this out of order realm, I feel that this definition of chaos allows me welcome latitude as well as a baseline for some necessary reforms.

We could also look into purses for examples of such real life principles of chaos.

My purse is heavy and scrambled but not random. There is a lot of rational stuff in there -- fine brass wire on a red spool, tape measure, umbrella, a pair of athletic socks, pocket knife, bandaids, notebook, and a little sprig of basil all on a bed of spilled coupons -- but initiating events here have become vague and forgotten, and things have gone their own way.

It has been worse.

My good thesaurus has become, at last, too old to travel, which helps things weightwise, but I miss its presence on occasion.

I no longer carry a stethoscope, which often proved entertaining, and no more wildflower seeds for impulse scattering, no more moist towelettes for besmirched children, even the occasional ladle or timer or pot holder is promptly removed.

Nothing alive or succulent is allowed, naturally, although I have been rather liberal about that in the past.

I am newly inspired in my struggle toward a healthy balance of tolerance and order because, in the scheme of scientific things, which I study whilst I brush my teeth, I have learned that any advance I might make, however humble, does and will affect the whole.

This is not in the context of a religious insight.

It is not a political slogan.

It is known as the butterfly effect, a subtle, purely physical statement regarding the true connection of all things within our local system, however chaotic it may seem.

If a butterfly, it is said, flaps its wings in Texas, it might just cause it to rain in Singapore.

I like that. It is comforting and astounding at the same time.

Therefore, I am working on world peace by accepting my purse in its natural state.

I shall allow it in the future to accumulate its own assortment of practical items within the aforementioned boundaries, as a gesture of tolerance, and, taking into consideration the fact that no intent was involved, I will forgive my purse for erasing my computer disks.

I will not leave it in the driveway.

I will consider it my symbolic effort and give it respect anew. It is a subsystem; it has life. Its life is consequential and should not be tampered with unduly.

If you are engaged in such lofty enterprises, you will most likely find yourself searching for an ideal summer soup.

This will be one that assembles in just a few minutes; it will be simple, not taxing to the cook who has other work to do, and, as well, a celebration of the coming wave of local, actual tomatoes, which have been grown in real dirt and allowed to ripen in their own homes before coming to market.

For Fresh Tomato Soup for four people, procure 6-7 deep red specimens, judging their merit by color and demeanor, and with some gentle, surreptitious examination in the market.

Squeezing is not really necessary, but if you are inclined to torment the produce staff, this is the way without a doubt.

Dip the fresh tomatoes into a kettle of boiling water for 30 seconds, then lower them into cold water for one minute. This will release the skin without cooking the tomato.

It will droop off and you can remove it easily. Remove the core with a paring knife. You can seed them if you want to. I don't.

Now, in a soup pot, sauté in:

2 Tbsp. olive oil

1 large onion, diced

Cook and stir for about five minutes, or until it smells fragrant no longer raw. Add:

2-3 cloves fresh garlic, minced

Cook for 2 minutes more.

Whiz just a little in the blender, leaving them chunky :

6-7 tomatoes, peeled, cored

1/4 C. chopped parsley

Add to the pot along with:

3-4 C. chicken broth, defatted

dash red pepper flakes

salt and fresh ground pepper to taste

Cook this very gently, stirring occasionally, for about 20 minutes. Just before serving, swirl through the soup:

1/4 C. cilantro pesto

Serve hot or cold, with a squirt of lemon juice, or a lemon slice floating on top.

Variations: basil pesto, dill pesto, chili pepper pesto, guacamole dolloped in at the last minute, cooked leftover rice, fresh corn, etc.

So as you go about your business, bear in mind the consequences of your actions. Be happy as much as you can. Take care of yourself. Be patient. Thereby, saving the world as we must.