Life Under the Butterfly Effect

Michele Issel

Jack built a house. It had a flaw.
Flaws, wing flap, a moment, a thing
    Call it what you will.

Something happened…
Forgot the phone, lost the credit card, punctured the tire.
That car, alone, motionless on the freeway shoulder
Slowed others to look and wonder and ponder and gawk.
Lanes of 70 mph going 5 mph
Back through the interchange, back for miles,
Brake lights, panic gasps, curses, not so near not misses.
That something that happened made so much.

That little something, so big an effect
A pea in the throat.
A sneeze.
A single bacteria lying dormant.
The zillion ways we let the pin ball fly.

We’d rather think about the drama, the ripples
Not the grain of sand or last straw,
Not the way or where or what started it all,
        Not the eyes or thought that went astray.
We see it all around, feel it, but never declare it.

That little something, so inconsequential in the moment
The unplanned choice to go here not there,
The lingering at the last of a radio story,
The glance that became a smile.
So natural in the order of disordered things.

The Science

When we attempt to understand the source of our regrets or joys, it’s the small changes that made a difference. The Butterfly Effect, as a concept in Chaos/Complexity Theory, amplifies small variations into large changes which can then push complex adaptive systems far from equilibrium. Emergence, as an attempt of complex adaptive systems to regain equilibrium, results in new patterns. This poem acknowledges emergence resulting from the Butterfly Effect as experienced in the social systems of everyday life, and how it makes our lives interesting and unpredictable and liveable. 

The Poet

Michele Issel, PhD, retired from life as a public health professor, now writes outdoors, looks for new marvels, and chats up the neighbours. After having travelled widely and lived across this marvellous continent, she settled in North Carolina, USA. Contact Michele at isselwrites@gmail.com or via Twitter @IsselWrites.

Next poem: Micellisation by Michael J. Leach