To imagine that the sun is made up of a million billion nuclear explosions all happening at the same time in a continuous cycle is a wonder. The terrible and unimaginable brilliance of such a force of nature is what I thing we mean when we say that things are supernatural. When we look at the sun, it is poised, definite, consistent, and always gives off warmth that the world basks in.

It’s interesting to consider that such a chaotic internal make up creates the utterly sublime and comforting force we call the sun.

Extrapolate this to another force of nature, man, it seems that man also exhibits this concept I’m terming ‘chaos gravity’. Case in point, I submit, Tiger Woods and Lance Armstrong. These sport heroes exemplify perfection in their respective domains, at least they used to.

For these subjects their reputations were beyond reproach though today having seen deep into the core and into the chaos that powers these gods, we have a different opinion. The old saying ‘for good to be good, there must exist a bad’ comes to mind.

Regarding the first subject, Tiger Woods, whom within his element was immaculate, his strokes and his swings where math. His form was so math, that the math of the game was based on him. His victories were inevitable and in the game of golf, he was a golf god. It was a sad time to hear of the marital dishonesty -tip of the iceberg-discovery of his life? There was a chaos that drove that madman to such mathematical perfection.

This infidelity, this chaos, this continuous nuclear explosion in effect powered his public form, which though debatable is a perspective. The bad, and inconsistent, the random, free moving nature stoked the exterior poise that we the public saw day in and day out on the golf course.

Tiger woods had a controlled poise on the golf course that was admirable, as fans we basked in it, esteemed him to higher than man stature, though in hindsight, could it not be arrived at, that this poise was to contain the interior chaos from escaping and once it escaped, the rest is history.

Lance Armstrong’s recent downfall plays out just like the case above, which perhaps says that there must be some outlet for perfectionists, something that allows them to be so perfect.