Transformation

Supposedly, Aristotle coined the phrase "The whole is more than the sum of its parts", but in fact there is no place in Aristotles's Metaphysics where that phrase, or anything similar, can be found. The Gestalt theory of Max Wertheimer maintains that there are experienced objects and relationships that are fundamentally different from the mere collections of sensations, parts, or pieces. What Gestalt theory actually says about relationships is that "The whole is different from the sum of its parts". With that in mind Kurt Koffka wrote that it is more correct to say that "The whole is something else than the sum of it's parts", because summing up is a meaningless procedure, whereas the releationship between the whole and the parts is meaningful. In the natural world, synergistic phenomena are ubiquitous of course, ranging from the synergies of scale in multi-cellular organisms and the many different kinds of synergies produced by socially-organized groups, from honeybee colonies, to wolf packs, to human societies. In the context of organizational behavior, following the view that a cohesive group is more than the sum of its parts, synergy is the ability of a group to out perform even it's best individual member. This has been true from the begining, and the early hominins who became systematic big-game hunters is one primoridal human example.

Recently, I've been thinking about the idea of transformation, which is a bit like synergy. As children our kids were always making something from clay, some of which we have kept to this day, and one of our daughters now teaches three dimensial art. Opening the door of a kiln is a moment of high expectation, anxiety and joy, and I would think a moment of transcendent surprise as well. A potter could describe the general process that results in a small work of functional art. An engineer would deconstruct the chemical interaction of the clay and glaze properties, as they interact with heat and time. A chemist could explain why metalic crystals are formed in the surface of the glassy silica under the condtions of oxidation and reduction in the kiln environment. As you've probably noted, I tend to find the spiritual in just about everything, partly I suppose because I'm usually looking for it, and you would probably agree with me that none of that information, knowledge, or truth really begins to express what one sees when the door of a kiln is opened for the first time.

There is something more at work here, which is a tranformation in the fire that goes beyond mere rationality and logic, although both have directly contributed to the process. All of the activity, sensations, and parts that make up this single piece of pottery, can't explain the transcendant creativity of the fire. Essentially, reducing it to numbers and formula doesn't describe beauty. Our modern minds try to reduce everything to what we can measure, weigh, and reproduce, but as important as the scientific method is there is "something more at work here". This is true of an art process, a relationship, ones sense of self, or our sense of God. Reducing life to the evolution of the chemical and biological interactions of self-conscious beings may be completely accurate, but it doesn't begin to define the moments of our lives. There is "something more at work here". The next time you stand in awe of a sunset, or the giggle of an infant, or the helping hand of a friend, take a breath and suspend the logic that seeks to limit such moments to what you and I can understand.