Childhood is that magical period when a human mind first forms and begins to glimpse the mystery and majesty of the world that surrounds us. The tragedy of adulthood is that so many of us not only lose that sense of wonder, but forget how to rekindle it, forget that it even existed. The purpose of art is, as Picasso so brilliantly summarised it, “to regain the eyes of innocence”.
Our scientific view of the world is a “best fit” template. It helps us make sense of the adult world, but it comes at a terrible price: the loss of imagination.
My sestude, about board games, addresses the mysterious issue of luck, something which most of us dismiss as superstition in adult life, but which inevitably touches on deeper issues such as karma and freewill, the question of whether the future is pre-ordained or, if not, what control we can really exert over it by purely rational means?
My sestude mentions one of my brothers, who always threw a ridiculous number of sixes at board games. Ironically enough, in adult life he has sometimes referred to me since as “lucky Douglas”. Luck is childlike wonder, I’d say.