At Least There is This
What a week it was. Heady concepts were thought on, debated. My son, the philosophical high school student, informed me one evening after work that ours is the only country that does not regularly revise its Constitution. Truth be known, and perhaps due to my upbringing, but I have never questioned the inviolability of our Constitution and certainly cannot recall (though it has been many years in the past) ever debating the point in school. Yet I see the point - times change, and to succeed you must react to those changes. So what happens if change is limited due to outdated constraints?
Later in the week came word of a conference being held at UCLA concerned with the relevance of the teachings of John Muir. In many ways, from what I understand, the Muir debate is much the same - holding certain notions, of preservation, the meaning of wilderness, etc, as timeless standards to be emulated regardless of change in the wider society.
Being someone of the liberal persuasion, who's biggest dream growing up was to live in the mountains, I can tell you I am more receptive to one, than I am to the other of those debates.
Yes, there has been much to think about lately. Enough to start my head spinning, if I had let it, if I had not been able to get out and ride, ride to this place, this place where only the moment matters:
The beat of a heart, loud in my ears. A crow's three-peate caw, followed by another series a few seconds later and further away. The melodic whistling of an unseen songbird. The tumble of granite pebbles as a lizard causes a small cascade down the nearby cliff face. The familiar side to side rocking of a climber out of the saddle, wheels making a shush - shush - shush in regular rhythmic pattern as he ascends the road. The wind, a hum, as it rushes along the canyon bottom then rises upslope sounding like the drone of a thousand busy bees. The sun, filtering through a canopy of leaves, drifting ever so slightly as I sway on my feet, a curtain of light drawing closure, even if for a few fleeting minutes, on all but this close up place.
Later in the week came word of a conference being held at UCLA concerned with the relevance of the teachings of John Muir. In many ways, from what I understand, the Muir debate is much the same - holding certain notions, of preservation, the meaning of wilderness, etc, as timeless standards to be emulated regardless of change in the wider society.
Being someone of the liberal persuasion, who's biggest dream growing up was to live in the mountains, I can tell you I am more receptive to one, than I am to the other of those debates.
Yes, there has been much to think about lately. Enough to start my head spinning, if I had let it, if I had not been able to get out and ride, ride to this place, this place where only the moment matters:
The beat of a heart, loud in my ears. A crow's three-peate caw, followed by another series a few seconds later and further away. The melodic whistling of an unseen songbird. The tumble of granite pebbles as a lizard causes a small cascade down the nearby cliff face. The familiar side to side rocking of a climber out of the saddle, wheels making a shush - shush - shush in regular rhythmic pattern as he ascends the road. The wind, a hum, as it rushes along the canyon bottom then rises upslope sounding like the drone of a thousand busy bees. The sun, filtering through a canopy of leaves, drifting ever so slightly as I sway on my feet, a curtain of light drawing closure, even if for a few fleeting minutes, on all but this close up place.
A very Muirish reflection piece. Nice.
ReplyDeleteA success then!
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