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about
When I die, I imagine that there will be a place I can go to see any statistic I ask for in perfect accuracy. Even if I wear a pedometer, I'll never know exactly how many steps I took in my life. It might miss shuffles, or miscount a jostle as a step. Wouldn't it be nice to know for sure?
An excerpt from my notes about it:
"And so in that way, I guess spiritual statistics is kind of a comforting mental exercise for me when I when I don't know something. When I am in a situation where I don't know whether that thing has truly happened. And I don't know how to articulate what it what the qualifications for that thing occurring are.
But if I ask spiritual statistics, spiritual statistics will know. It will be able to understand exactly what I wanted to know, it will know what those qualifications are, it will know how to define that occurrence, and in such a concise way as to be able to count it.
By presenting a count of those instances, it implies that it has basically produced a perfect definition for that something that I wasn't able to articulate. And that's comforting.
And that's why I turned to spiritual statistics because it allows me to imagine that there is some numerical, defined, absolute, correct value for the thing that I am unsure about. The thing that I am thinking or that I wish had a value to assign to it."
lyrics
At the long end of the day today, tell me: how many steps did I take?
How many times did I shuffle, scrape my feet against the ground and each other?
How do you know I didn't just shake you so many times up and down?
When I'm ready, show me the chart, haven't I earned that? Don't I deserve that?
Somewhere ahead, propped up in a puddle of ink with a pin, with the stars sprinkled in, there's a blue table
On it there's a handful of numbers that I know, a grand total
Maybe they've grown to where they are now, maybe they've come a certain way from zero
But that's none of my business
Everything that happened, all the air that I moved in my time moving air
And the data that left me and wandered outside
Someone has tied perfect, countable packages around every instance of every footstep, all the time, forever
What does it matter what I'll do with that information?
It's the comfort and reward of knowing that it was lovingly gathered for me
Someday, I hope I will see you and be finally apprised
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