One of the things that always gets my attention in England is how many wheels you see out in the world of the non-automobile variety. Even though aspects of American-style suburban auto-based life (shopping and commuting) have increased over the years (and I saw some impressive traffic jams in London last week), people do still generally seem to rely on trains and buses, walking, cycling, walking their children in strollers (push chairs over here) and pulling their groceries in wheeled shopping carts. The constant swirl of life is as much on the sidewalk (pavement) as it is in the streets; as many errands as possible are done locally, around the corner.
I was thinking a bit yesterday about different sorts of wheels -- the "wheels" moving in the brains of creative and scientific geniuses. Last night on the BBC, there was a program about scientists' efforts to explore and explain dark matter and dark energy. Through the visual metaphors of scientists sitting on trains and looking out the window, or at the water's edge looking out at the horizon, the program's producers effectively, I think, communicated how much creative scientific thought is happening "invisibly" -- in the brain. The composer I have written about, Herbert Howells, was outrageously prolific. He sketched out pieces on the train, into the composition books of his students, or while waiting for supper to be put on the table. The wheels were constantly turning. The formal scientific equations and musical scores that result from this kind of work represent probably only a miniscule percentage of the "energy" expended by these extraordinary men and women; scientists, artists, creative people in all media, and academic and spiritual writers and thinkers. And yet what the world may see is someone "merely" staring out the window, into space.
Kind of makes me proud, in my own small way, to be one of them. Some of us should wear tee shirts that say, "Quiet, please, my inner wheels are turning."
