Reaping Chaos

I accept chaos, I’m not sure whether it accepts me.
          – Bob Dylan

Jeb Bush, a hapless presidential wannabe, enjoyed a rare moment of prescience when he labeled Donald Trump a “chaos candidate (who) would be a chaos president.”  Nobody else has explained the Trump phenomenon so precisely.  Trump is of, by, and for chaos.  His candidacy was born in chaos, he personally embodies chaos, and chaos will eventually destroy his presidency – if his political opposition is able to use political tai chi to turn his strength, chaos, against him.

Much of human existence is occupied with attempting to make order out of chaos, fueled by the irrational belief that order can always be imposed.  But the order we impose, whether based on politics, religion, or alchemy, is like the cooling crust over a lava flow.  It looks like solid land, as durable and firm as granite, but collapses like a cracker in soup under sufficient weight.  Sometimes you can walk on it. Sometimes you collapse into the lava and die.  Life’s uncertainty is chaos.

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