"Modernity is the shared predicament of all who discover, or are discovered, by new values and technologies, and a description of the pleasure and pain that follows". We are in a state of change that can not be slowed or stopped just as we cannot stop imagination. We see the world in new ways as we see new sunrises. We observe the changing colors of mountains and oceans and know we are in a changing world.
Recent dinner discussions revolved around a nostalgic look at these cultural shifts and I could feel within the group a longing for days gone by. A pining for what was perceived as “the good old days”. Simpler times when there was more freedom and innocence. I began thinking that I had heard this “good old days “ thinking before, I supposed that it is likely that all generations have love for their past, and a reverence. Playing outside till the lights come on, riding a bike through a ditch of burning leaves, chestnut wars, hockey cards in bicycle spokes, don’t-touch-the-floor house tag, skating on the frozen creek.
The wonder I had at this point was that all these sorts of things haven’t really changed at all." They are, in a phrase from Neitzsche that expresses a kaleidoscopic weirdness of perspective 'a fateful simultaneity of spring and autumn'. We look back at our cherished springs as we peer out at our present autumns. And they can both be identified. Everything is in the present. I began to see the ‘spring' everywhere or as a simultaneity with the present. I looked for hints that all the "good old days' are just under my nose. Alive and well and just over there.
I am living a holiday life now in Brother Brent’s Collingwood condo. A holiday is finding a new path, new routines, new bed, new food, new sun, yes new sunrises. It’s the coldest area of North America but nothing can stop a holiday. Nothing can hide spring.
With these thoughts I headed out to the wind swept Georgian Bay where there was a lonely soul in silhouette on his knees bent over a cold cold water pump that as much as he would pull the starter cord, it just wouldn't start. A hose running to a hole in the ice defined his purpose, to flood the rink. Later in the week teenaged couples were rounding and rounding the surface as if flying, and the weekend multi-aged, hockey tournament with a small warming fire captured the timelessness. Yes there are multiple high energy arenas everywhere but spring is alive and well in the human spirit. He could just have easily been flooding the rink with a bucket his results were so rewarding.
At the ski hills one dark clear night I discovered the Blue Mountain skating rink. Sparsely populated, the skaters braved the dark and cold with joy. Children gathered around helpful orange skating cones, checking their balance and then buzzing out for another shaky turn. No one noticed the tripod. The scene harkened a Dickens novel. European architecture with mountain high roof peeks added slope to the already steepness. The gliding skiers along cotton falls gave a feeling that simple snow is wonderful stuff. Creating dazzling icicles along roof edges is a significant adornment. All in all the scene was the good old days.
So I guess new ways of looking at the world enter cultures with difficulty. The fear sometimes blind us. We use ever increasing safety measures as a way to resist novelty. We over protect, but look over there we have acknowledged and celebrated freedom and innocence in snow and ice.
Recent dinner discussions revolved around a nostalgic look at these cultural shifts and I could feel within the group a longing for days gone by. A pining for what was perceived as “the good old days”. Simpler times when there was more freedom and innocence. I began thinking that I had heard this “good old days “ thinking before, I supposed that it is likely that all generations have love for their past, and a reverence. Playing outside till the lights come on, riding a bike through a ditch of burning leaves, chestnut wars, hockey cards in bicycle spokes, don’t-touch-the-floor house tag, skating on the frozen creek.
The wonder I had at this point was that all these sorts of things haven’t really changed at all." They are, in a phrase from Neitzsche that expresses a kaleidoscopic weirdness of perspective 'a fateful simultaneity of spring and autumn'. We look back at our cherished springs as we peer out at our present autumns. And they can both be identified. Everything is in the present. I began to see the ‘spring' everywhere or as a simultaneity with the present. I looked for hints that all the "good old days' are just under my nose. Alive and well and just over there.
I am living a holiday life now in Brother Brent’s Collingwood condo. A holiday is finding a new path, new routines, new bed, new food, new sun, yes new sunrises. It’s the coldest area of North America but nothing can stop a holiday. Nothing can hide spring.
With these thoughts I headed out to the wind swept Georgian Bay where there was a lonely soul in silhouette on his knees bent over a cold cold water pump that as much as he would pull the starter cord, it just wouldn't start. A hose running to a hole in the ice defined his purpose, to flood the rink. Later in the week teenaged couples were rounding and rounding the surface as if flying, and the weekend multi-aged, hockey tournament with a small warming fire captured the timelessness. Yes there are multiple high energy arenas everywhere but spring is alive and well in the human spirit. He could just have easily been flooding the rink with a bucket his results were so rewarding.
At the ski hills one dark clear night I discovered the Blue Mountain skating rink. Sparsely populated, the skaters braved the dark and cold with joy. Children gathered around helpful orange skating cones, checking their balance and then buzzing out for another shaky turn. No one noticed the tripod. The scene harkened a Dickens novel. European architecture with mountain high roof peeks added slope to the already steepness. The gliding skiers along cotton falls gave a feeling that simple snow is wonderful stuff. Creating dazzling icicles along roof edges is a significant adornment. All in all the scene was the good old days.
So I guess new ways of looking at the world enter cultures with difficulty. The fear sometimes blind us. We use ever increasing safety measures as a way to resist novelty. We over protect, but look over there we have acknowledged and celebrated freedom and innocence in snow and ice.
