We’ve
all heard the expression. Essentially, the concept involves small
things and a large thing. Can’t see one because the other dominates,
usually offered as the idea that one cannot capture the full picture
because of the attention given to a handful of pieces.
But
have you ever wondered about when the small things disappear completely
because of the creation of the new large thing?
Think
pancakes and tomato sauce and such.
We’ve
all likely mixed up a sauce. If not by making it from scratch,
then by pouring a jar into a pan and adding wine and assorted
spices. When it’s done, and we’re plating up some delicious linguini
with tomato sauce goodness, we rarely think about that shot of
merlot and spoonful of garlic we added. We just enjoy the meal.
When
we discuss the original saying, the elements remain intact. In
short, even if we do visualize the entire forest, we can still
readily identify the idea that the structure of the forest is
trees.
Where
I’m headed here is something entirely different. One doesn’t usually
think cookies and at the same time have a grasp of butter, eggs
and cinnamon. I’m wondering about the moments where we lose the
trees. Poof. Gone.
A
car is a tool. A resource. Nothing complicated there. It provides
a way for getting from point a to point b. Simple. That is its
purpose.
For
some of us, there are needs from a vehicle that adjust what we
might be looking to drive. Consideration allowed for what we need
to get from point a to point b, or the process of getting from
point a to point b. More passengers might mean a minivan. Long
trips could trigger investigations into the best gas mileage.
Equipment to for work brings trucks into the conversation.
Want
to listen to music or radio or whatever during the journey? Suddenly
the dashboard options and subscriptions services enter the debate.
A
car. Simple? Again, sure. But perhaps not so basic.
The
operation of a car is a checklist of actions. Unlock the door,
get inside and fasten a seatbelt, insert a key into the ignition,
shift into reverse… step one, step two, step three… and eventually
the car is in motion. Do you ever look at your car and think seatbelt
and glove compartment? Chances are, when you do, it’s for a specific
reason and not a general observation.
A
car is a car, not a steering wheel, rearview mirror and trunk,
until you need to consider those. A cookie is a cookie, not sugar
and flour, until you don’t have enough flour to make the recipe.
There are times to consider the whole, and times to consider the
parts. And I would contend that there isn’t much that truly draws
us to one perspective or the other upon first glance.
And
maybe that’s the word. Perspective. If you’re in your backyard,
looking off into the distance, it’s a forest. If you’re sitting
in the middle of the woods, enjoying a campfire and you glance
around, it’s trees. The ingredients—so to speak—could be irrelevant.
It
becomes situational. Not necessarily need driven, and not perfectly
location driven, but definitely personal observation driven.
When
does a collection of things become something else? And, is there
a point where it becomes difficult to go back to what it was?
If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is around to hear it,
does the tree exist at all?