In my last year in college I had the good fortune to live near three tremendously gifted physicists. Occasionally they would put aside quantum field theory and supersymmetry for a game of chess, and I, with little mind for strategy, was only too happy to observe. The intricacies of their plotting was far beyond me, but I could still wonder at the vast complexity spawned by such a simple set of rules.
Real war, as Robert McNamara so aptly pointed out, is far too complicated to ever be understood by a single person-- hence the term 'the fog of war.' Games are fun because they put the excitement and challenge of strategic competition within the bounds of one individual's intellect. In chess, it is possible (but just barely) to see your will and wit acted out on the board. The number of variables has been reduced to a level where the system lacks the unfathomable complexity of reality.
The desert is a similar system. The dominance of a few variables-- sun, wind, water-- marginalizes all the others. It is simplicity and comprehensibility that grant deserts their beauty, the sublime alternation between life, meaning, and emptiness. In even ten minutes sitting alone in a desert you begin to pick up on cause and effect, on the connections between every element. Soon you start to figure out the patterns of life, and it is only a matter of time before you feel you know the rules so well that you are a part of the game.
Real war, as Robert McNamara so aptly pointed out, is far too complicated to ever be understood by a single person-- hence the term 'the fog of war.' Games are fun because they put the excitement and challenge of strategic competition within the bounds of one individual's intellect. In chess, it is possible (but just barely) to see your will and wit acted out on the board. The number of variables has been reduced to a level where the system lacks the unfathomable complexity of reality.
The desert is a similar system. The dominance of a few variables-- sun, wind, water-- marginalizes all the others. It is simplicity and comprehensibility that grant deserts their beauty, the sublime alternation between life, meaning, and emptiness. In even ten minutes sitting alone in a desert you begin to pick up on cause and effect, on the connections between every element. Soon you start to figure out the patterns of life, and it is only a matter of time before you feel you know the rules so well that you are a part of the game.
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