The Principles of Theory: My Grandfather's Orchard (Part 1 of 2)

The following is an excerpt of correspondence between Carlton Farthington and a colleague whose name has since been redacted by request. These notes formed the basis for Carlton Farthington's now notorious book The Principles of Theory: A Systematic Approach to Ideas.  

Since his "accident," Carlton Farthington has spoken entirely with the aid of a text-to-speech reader. These excerpts were recently delivered as "speeches" to Cape Fear Community College students at the Union Station auditorium.  Go Sea Devils!



Text:

In my youth, strolling through the peaceful acreage of my grandfather's orchard, I would reach up and pluck a ripe, beautiful apple from a bended branch and eat it, its sweet juice erupting from my mouth and trickling in rivulets down my neck into my shirt. I fancied myself a "devourer of apples," and would spend the better part of each day sinking my young white pearlies into the ripe flesh of these "forbidden fruits." Grandma would chide me for my indulgence, but, young, incorrigible man I was I would merely laugh and chase her through the rows of trees, pegging her with apples. To me, apples were, as you say "a delicious fruit." But in another sense, at least insofar as Grandma was concerned, they also had hard, stone-like properties. And so I saw the dissolution and diminution of something that had once represented an elemental whole. 

On the densely empixelated white of this computer screen I can in some way lay claim to that unsullied image of truth/beauty, i.e. the veritable geysers of sweet juice o'erbrimming the small confines of my mouth. Like a mason laying brick, I can stack words around the fact that in my hands these ruddy vessels of purity became instruments of hurt, missiles of malignment. We can say that the kernel of truth that was "apple" has "exploded," not only into the sticky mess on my hands and face, but into a widely differentiated range of uses and experiences. 

The question is whether that which has been differentiated can in turn be reintegrated, that is, returned to its original state of wholeness. The answer is no, we are currently incapable of reintegrating that which we have differentiated, fettered, as it were, by the laws of physics. Just as a popped piece of popcorn can never return to the "fully integrated" kernel form, neither can my apples return to their pendulous "state of grace," not yet compromised by their involvement with the back of Grandma's head.