Imperfect spheres without meaning.

Last night I watched a program about the stone spheres of Costa Rica. The hosts were disproving myths surrounding these mysterious relics of some ancient era. For example, contrary to popular belief, the spheres are not perfectly round though they appear to be. Also, they could have been made by a primitive culture with limited stone tools. Neither the magi of Atlantis nor the superior beings of Ursa Major were necessary accomplices in the feat.

The question of the meaning of the stones arose on several occasions. What do they mean? Are they religious? Are they philosophical? Do they represent the great circle of life and death? A distant world? The music of the spheres?

It occured to me as I watched that perhaps the sphere-makers just liked making spheres. That simple. Maybe one of them, we'll call him Ug, began thumping away at a big hunk of stone after a long day of hunting and gathering to let off a little steam. After a while, the stone took on a pleasant spherical shape. Ug thought, "Hey, that looks nice. And I feel better. Maybe I'll make some more." His friends were struck by Ug's beatific face as he scrubbed away the pock marked surface with a piece of sandstone, and they decided that they'd give it a try. "Besides," Ub said, "Spheres look nice."

Why do we always assume that people must mean something grand and profound? Maybe the ancient goddess-worshippers of Mesopotamia didn't worship goddesses at all. Maybe they just liked fat ladies, so they carved little statues of naked fat ladies in their spare time. Like primitive Penthouse.