The Book of Form and Emptiness

by Ruth Ozeki

Sometimes it’s more than one voice. Sometimes it’s a whole chorus of voices rising from a single thing, especially if it’s a Made thing with lots of different makers, but don’t be scared. I think it depends on the kind of day they were having back in Guangdong or Laos or wherever, and if it was a good day at the old sweatshop, if they were enjoying a pleasant thought at the moment when that particular grommet came tumbling down the line and passed through their fingers, then that pleasant thought will cling to the hole. Sometimes it’s not so much a thought as a feeling. A nice warm feeling, like love, for example. Sunny and yellow. But when it’s a sad feeling or an angry one that gets laced into your shoe, then you’d better watch out because that shoe might do crazy shit, like marching your feet right up to the front of the Nike store, for example, where you could wind up smashing the display window with a baseball bat made of furious wood. If that happens, it’s still not your fault. Just apologize to the window, say I’m sorry to the glass, and whatever you do, don’t try to explain. The arresting officer doesn’t care about the crappy conditions in the bat factory. He won’t care about the chain saws or the sturdy ash tree that the bat used to be, so just keep your mouth shut. Stay calm. Be polite. Remember to breathe.