A Change of Direction?

BRIGHTEVERYDAY A Change of Direction?

Change is a notion feared by many but can be a welcome tonic for supressed emotions. We can never go back but we can look. Sometimes, however, it is a useful reminder and insight in how our modern world developed rather than evolved.

That people are creatures of habit is true for many, but it is not the idiom for all, rather it can be a frustrating cliché suggesting lethargy and complacence. We blight possibilities in accepting the status quo, blighting new horizons, and compelling us to a monotone life of drudgery. What of the vision and energy of metamorphosis, the sublime and the raised awareness of ourselves and the world in which we live, and share?

Sometimes one thinks of the Nostalgia Shop in our trips back, thinking of those pleasures and images of life in its simplicity and beauty. Time and space and place, conjuring up emotions of pleasure, peace, and tranquillity. Time to immerse yourself in the moment of being, absorbing the purity of air and sublime existence. There is something inherently benign is such innermost emotions. It suggests a life of honesty and simplicity. It asks the question, why are we running everywhere at such a speed? Life is a journey, taken slowly, enjoyed, to contemplate, to learn, reflect and to dream.

Geoffrey Chaucer’s “The Canterbury Tales” speaks volumes about the human condition, warts, and all, but the Hubble Telescope relates another fascinating and humbling story. It seems wise to acknowledge our time here on earth with an extreme effort to be the absolute best that we can be and be aware of our place in it with humility. We have a duty of care, but we also have time to make our presence a memorable one, albeit ephemeral. We must take time to smell the roses, be respectful, caring and loving and join in the fight for peace!

There is something beautiful and earthy about the vineyard and the olive grove, the honest and sublime artisanship of the stone buildings, and the subtle hues and scents of a rich countryside. The busy marketplace bursting with fresh produce form land and sea, rewards of the toils of truthful endeavour, etched in the friendly faces, a community and harmony. So much space and colour, fresh lingering air and the sound of silence and happiness. Villages and towns are just like that everywhere, reflecting a will to enshrine community and place, ignoring the drive to anonymity and the descent to mediocrity.

Compare that to the anaesthetised world of the Metropolis bursting with excitement, or is that people? The suburban homogenised sprawl creeping into the next one almost close enough to warrant an underground journey or a cycle ride through the acrid air: ring-fenced green space heaving with people, bus lanes, vacated shops and office premises, cities no longer fulfilling a useful function in diversity, their heart transplanted to the “Shed” creating a vacuous core.

The beating heart anaesthetised in a new city of “Sheds” fulfilling the dreams of the obsessed and the devout. One wonders if there should not be a Spire signifying and directing the new flock to worship. They destroy communities and place, lured and driven by boredom, entropy, and their relentless pursuit and compulsion in shopping and buying. Ignorant or uncaring of the adverse consequences, they destroy that important social aspect of life so treasured and vital to social interaction. It is a demeaning abdication of self and respect of traditions, an ignorance or perhaps a lack of care, in understanding virtue, identity, proportion, and propriety. I am not suggesting “Sheds” should have been modelled on say, a Palladian Villa (although Vitruvius, “The Ten Books on Architecture”) is a sublime read, but their planning and building into the firmament should perhaps have been appraised by a Planning Department with oversight by sociologists and philosophers I am not offering a defence for their existence, but there is a beauty in proportion, whether it may be in built form, art, music or other aesthetic considerations.

Alas, the City Fathers, having revoked their moral responsibilities and duties, now wreak the last ounces of currency from a dwindling core, inflicting punishment through traffic infringement fines, bus lanes, lofty rates, and morale-sapping incompetence. It is indeed as sad reflection on the flawed world of Commercialism and Capitalism and an insatiable appetite for towering mediocrity. We surely deserve a change in direction and outlook. Perhaps we all need to look through that telescope, not so much to make us feel humble, but to remind ourselves of the beauty of the universe, its permeability and infinity.