One, two, three...  Count up,

love, then halves down.  Zeno’s foot

taps beats:  eight, four, two...

ACHILLES & TORTOISE

SOMEDAY WALTZ

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A proverbial story tells of two Talmudic students in debate. At one point, a participant missteps. He continues off balance, worsening his argument, until his opponent interrupts him: “If I understand your position correctly, then previously you would have said this instead of that.” Thankful, the first person corrects his earlier statements and the debate continues. Similarly, in chess, if an opponent makes a clumsy move, you have two options--snatch up the piece or let the player take back the move. There’s no hesitation when money is on the game, otherwise a better player will choose the latter. Seeing two strategies played to completion is far more interesting than the quick math of human error. This haiku is a tribute to that virtue--foregoing an easy win out of love for the greater pursuit--as well as to Zeno of Elea, the pre-Socratic philosopher often considered the father of dialectic reasoning. He is most known for his false paradoxes that exposed reductio ad absurdum argumentation. In one paradox, Achilles and the tortoise race. The tortoise is given a head start. By the time Achilles reaches the starting point of the tortoise, the tortoise has advanced to a second point. By the time Achilles reaches the second point, the tortoise is to a third. As this can be repeated infinitely, Achilles must never reach the tortoise. In another version, the argument is that Achilles requires a unit of time to halve the distance, and another unit of time to halve the distance again. As any distance can be infinitely halved, Achilles must never reach the tortoise. Although common sense clearly contradicts this conclusion, the thought of continuously halving the distance to a goal, an approach without an arrival, has always held a certain beauty for me. Does this haiku mean something different to you? Contact me!

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