Intermission

As predicted, it did indeed rain. But as the Swedish say, “There is no bad weather. Only bad clothing.” So we were prepared enough to weather the precipitation and it was on and off, so mostly okay. Arrived at our hotel around 12:30 and retreated to our rooms as it continued to rain. I had a return of my on again, off again, chronic dizziness, so mainly lay down and napped and then lay in bed reading —or rather re-reading—my little vice of Sue Grafton novels. Something about the setting, characters and story that I like and thanks to my leaky memory, having read the almost A to Z collection (she died before writing Z), I’ve enjoyed re-reading I Is for Innocent and my current R Is for Ricochet. 

 

Without much to report about the day, there’s always my reflections on what’s wrong about my country that could be so much better. And let me clear. Neither France nor Ghana nor Bali nor Brazil nor any of the other 60+ countries I’ve loved being in and learned so much from and admired so greatly are without their cultural shadows and their murderous histories. But my critique of my own country is always a blend of true patriotism, a love letter, a grave disappointment and a shameful disgrace.

Having waxed rhapsodic about the quality of food and culture and intellectual engagement and aesthetic appreciation I find in so many places, this quote below from Rachel Carson’s book The Silent Spring rings true. We all talk about the political disaster we’re slogging through, but so much of that is tied to the piss-poor quality of life we endure. Our daily diet of violent movies and TV shows, our profound ignorance of art and literature and music and poetry, our fast food and ugly shopping malls, our obsession with guns, our superficial social relations limited to texts and social media. This all is deeply connected to the political decisions we make and what we accept as okay. And remember that Ms Carson wrote this in the 1950’s!

 

“Why should we tolerate a diet of weak poisons, a home in insipid surroundings, a circle of acquaintances who are not quite our enemies, the noise of motors with just enough relief to prevent insanity? Who would want to live in a world which is just not quite fatal?”

 

Who indeed. And Victor Hugo says something similar in his novel Les Miserables published in 1862! So much of our poor quality of life comes from our obsessions with quantity of money:

 

“Races petrified in dogma or demoralized by money are unfit to lead civilization. Genuflection before the ideal of the dollar atrophies the muscle which moves or the will that goes. Heiratic or mercantile absorption diminishes the radiance of a people, lowers its horizon by lowering its level, and deprives it of that intelligence of the universal aim, at the same time human and divine.”

 

Our radiance has certainly been dimmed down to the barely visible. Our horizon keeps lowering more and more so that just when we think it can go no lower, well, there it is! Hundreds of times in the Toddler King regime and still not touching bottom. Each time, as we adapt to something “not quite fatal” as the new norm, our intelligence, universal humanity and divinity is diminished. 

This is not mere whiny complaint, but hints as to how to really turn things around so we’re not merely bouncing back and forth between the almost tolerable and the unbearable. Mere votes in an election won’t solve that without digging deeper below the surface and organizing our lives, our schools, our government institutions around that which promotes a diet both nutritious and delicious slowly savored, a home in beautiful surroundings, a circle of acquaintances that reflect and inspire our best selves and the quiet music and right speech and early morning bird song that restores us to our sanity. That helps us not only survive, but thrive. Thanks to Ms. Carson and Mr. Hugo for the reminders.