“If only I had seen it coming…”
“If only I had known…”
“If only I had been…”
Every “if only” abstracts. You know the word. Abstraction derives from the Latin ab, “away” and trahere, “to draw” (as in “pull”), and from abstractus, “drawn away.” We sometimes associate the word with an artform, for example, the paintings of Kadinsky, such as “Brownish” and “Fragile.” Disembodied, un-embodied, dreamlike for some, childlike for others, abstract art elicits from the bewildered viewer in a museum statements, such as “Geez, I could do THAT!” and “What is THAT supposed to be?” You know the cognate noun abstract, also, the little biddy paragraph at the beginning of a professional paper that is supposed to summarize the entire document. An abstract is a bit of a tease, some unsubstantial serving of meat without potatoes and definitely without side dishes.
Sometimes, we abstract our lives, and we verbalize the abstracting with “if only.” We take ourselves out of the only universe we know, the “real” universe, and we pose an alternative reality, a fiction of the past, verbalized in past perfect tense or in some subjunctive form, like “If only I were (armed, smart enough, trained, more agile, more muscular, thinner, skilled in, etc.).” The “if onlys” we have expressed all abstract us from reality.
The next time the expression if only crosses your mind, think of abstract art, parallel worlds you can never realize, or your first-grade stick figures. Every attempt to draw you away from the realities of your past and present makes an abstract future.
“If only I had known…”
“If only I had been…”
Every “if only” abstracts. You know the word. Abstraction derives from the Latin ab, “away” and trahere, “to draw” (as in “pull”), and from abstractus, “drawn away.” We sometimes associate the word with an artform, for example, the paintings of Kadinsky, such as “Brownish” and “Fragile.” Disembodied, un-embodied, dreamlike for some, childlike for others, abstract art elicits from the bewildered viewer in a museum statements, such as “Geez, I could do THAT!” and “What is THAT supposed to be?” You know the cognate noun abstract, also, the little biddy paragraph at the beginning of a professional paper that is supposed to summarize the entire document. An abstract is a bit of a tease, some unsubstantial serving of meat without potatoes and definitely without side dishes.
Sometimes, we abstract our lives, and we verbalize the abstracting with “if only.” We take ourselves out of the only universe we know, the “real” universe, and we pose an alternative reality, a fiction of the past, verbalized in past perfect tense or in some subjunctive form, like “If only I were (armed, smart enough, trained, more agile, more muscular, thinner, skilled in, etc.).” The “if onlys” we have expressed all abstract us from reality.
The next time the expression if only crosses your mind, think of abstract art, parallel worlds you can never realize, or your first-grade stick figures. Every attempt to draw you away from the realities of your past and present makes an abstract future.
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