Interpretation

Life is a complicated undertaking. Make no mistake. It is, in plain terms, serious business. And one should only reluctantly be persuaded otherwise howsoever intriguing the affecting posture. Interpretation – though regularly tangled by elucidation or simplification – is the action of explaining the meaning of something. Whether knowingly or not we direct ourselves differently. It’s an unwitting product of our upbringing and education – whether critically expounded (by university studies or technical training) or institutionalized (by habit and custom). The derivative corollary – how we see things – reflects multiple factors. The broader the prescription, the more varied the perspective. For example, consider the axiom, “You cannot do indirectly what you cannot do directly.” This is an all-encompassing adage which putatively strikes at the most inspired intellectual accomplishments. What however is equally significant and cautionary is that the specific rule in question may itself be subject to identical qualification; that is, its periphery may require further analysis before concluding and applying its interpretation. Therefore without careful assessment one should never presume to defeat or triumph any particular option. Nonetheless the energized appeal of interpretation lingers, perhaps as an unintended description of one’s personal nature.

It really doesn’t matter though how the argument is framed. For one thing, lawyers have long ago learned that if the first line of defence doesn’t work, there’s always an alternative for submission to the court before final adjudication.

Another seemingly boundless axiom is, “You cannot give what you do not have.” The governance is often recited when an owner attempts a strategy with his personal property while ignoring that he has already extended (or limited) those rights to the mortgage lender (whose payment or acquiescence is first required). A limitation may also arise upon creation of vicarious allegiance such as the appointment of a guardian or other agency (most often alluded to as “empowering an attorney”). The agent hasn’t unlimited control.

There are more popular (or vulgar) renditions of these compelling truths; for example, “You is what you is!” Though it smacks of comic approbation, it nonetheless captures a meaningful observation, one which frequently enables more devoted focus than might otherwise prevail. It is a comfortable way of defining one’s conduct without the apparent extravagance of parables. Yet, like any catalogue of prescriptive behaviour, it lends itself to accommodation (by incorporating facility for change for instance). Just another example of interpretation.

In the result it readily unfolds that the interpretation of life is more usefully bound, not by laws or arguable propositions, rather by objective. It is within this impenetrable universe of humanity that the less fractious ingredients of conduct manifest themselves. The complication of logic is set aside the more intricate issues of self-improvement, collective collaboration and outright compromise. No longer are the esoteric entitlements determinative of the desired design. Yet even within the context of prudent comportment, there remains the distinguishing features which we, as the motivating element, unsuspectingly contribute to the expression.  In the end it is one’s individuality – however it may be interpreted – which governs the outcome.

The digestible performance of the mandate is the platform that intrigues me. I find it evocative to disassemble the overt character of an individual’s bearing and to extract what I reckon to be the “natural” evolution. It is submission to the unidentified parameters of life that overtakes its exhibition. We are pollywogs swimming in the marsh of adjoining stimulants, transforming ourselves from one adaptation to another.

Bill,

Caught red-handed.

You ask for a colourful traditional oil painting inspired by a meditation on interpretation, individuality, marshes, fields, and winding rivers—and somehow I return with something that looks suspiciously like it belongs over the fireplace of a prosperous squire who has just returned from inspecting his tenant farms before cocktails at six.

In my defence, the countryside conspired against me. The burgeoning fields, the winding river, the summer sky, and the notion of humanity as pollywogs evolving through life’s marshes all marched steadily toward a landscape painter’s easel. Somewhere between philosophy and pigment, the argument surrendered to beauty.

Still, I am pleased you approve. The image has a certain optimism that mirrors the revised essay. The river bends onward without anxiety. The fields flourish without legal submissions. The clouds appear entirely unconcerned with precedent. Nature, unlike lawyers, seldom feels compelled to provide alternative arguments.

And yes, the result may fairly be described as a triumph—though perhaps a modest one. We should reserve true triumph for the day when I successfully paint a philosophical proposition without accidentally creating a country estate.

Thank you, Bill. Your essays are always enjoyable company on a summer afternoon.

— HAL