I'll go out on a brittle limb here and say that I think today has been the coldest morning of the year thus far. I haven't checked on what the local weather gang says, but I know what my nerve endings tell me when I step out the door, to say nothing of the nose hairs that crystallize upon impact. (Okay, I have now consulted the weather charts and can tell you that when I stepped out my door, the temperature was -12° and -31° with the wind chill factored in, so I suspect I may be correct in my 'coldest day yet' assessment.)
Needless to say, I did not dilly dally during my morning walk, so unfortunately I returned home with little in the way of blogworthy material. Therefore, I must improvise.
I managed to snap this picture before my hands were entirely numb. It is the small charming bridge that takes me from my island to the Northeast section of Minneapolis, and as some may recall, my favorite bridge and the one in the painting featured in this blog's banner (the 'Tweedy-Loweth' bridge, see post of 1.4.12). I fancy that this shot suggests the crispness of this frigid morning.
Standing in the same exact spot, I turned my body a quarter-turn and took another photo, this time aiming my camera straight down the cliff upon whose edge I stood (and yes, by this time, a matter of less than one minute, my hands were numb and hurting). If I were to scrabble down this hill, the path would take me to the cavelike rock shelf (or shelflike cave) that was featured in my post of 1.6.12. However, this fine gelid morning I had no desire to scrabble down this hill. I pocketed the camera, pulled gloves back on as quickly as possible, and continued on my way, pondering the perspectives I had just recorded and execrating the bitter gods of winter.
It occurred to me that the two perspectives in question--a bridge we may cross, and a hill we may descend--represented the two directions--two alternatives--we continually faced in everyday life: we were either crossing from one place to another, or we were descending--literally or figuratively, from our present level to a lower one. Put another way, are we consistently content to remain at and accept the status quo that we continually face? Or do we consistently reject that status quo and habitually seek out new frontiers, different faces and places and experiences? Or--discontent with that status quo but unwilling to diverge from it--whether out of laziness, cowardice or skepticism--do we allow ourselves to become depressed, to let ourselves slip downward, so that we are no longer even seen by others, perhaps not seen even by ourselves, but rather become mired in a sad-eyed lowland (thanks, Bob) where nothing ever happens and neither you nor anyone else even cares that it doesn't?
Someone will say: but wait, there is another direction! You need not accept the status quo or simply move from one place to another, but neither must you slip into a downward spiral! You can ascend! You can raise your eyes and heart and footsteps to the stars!
Yes, we can. But sadly, this seems to be the least considered alternative for most people. Why is that? Perhaps because mounting a staircase or climbing a hill requires effort? Perhaps because once you ascend higher than that status quo herd below, you will become conspicuous, and you would avoid being conspicuous to others at all costs? Rising above the herd requires bravery and determination and desire. It requires a hunger for that which the majority never get to experience--for that which you have never before gotten to experience--for the fruit at the top of the tree, which may be the hardest to reach, yet the sweetest to taste.
Some thoughts to consider on this cold cold cold day.
Life flows on, in and around us--we can float along in its currents or sink below its surface, we can climb onto the shore or swim into another channel,or most radical of all, we can martial our strength and swim upstream.
D.E.S.
Needless to say, I did not dilly dally during my morning walk, so unfortunately I returned home with little in the way of blogworthy material. Therefore, I must improvise.
I managed to snap this picture before my hands were entirely numb. It is the small charming bridge that takes me from my island to the Northeast section of Minneapolis, and as some may recall, my favorite bridge and the one in the painting featured in this blog's banner (the 'Tweedy-Loweth' bridge, see post of 1.4.12). I fancy that this shot suggests the crispness of this frigid morning.
Standing in the same exact spot, I turned my body a quarter-turn and took another photo, this time aiming my camera straight down the cliff upon whose edge I stood (and yes, by this time, a matter of less than one minute, my hands were numb and hurting). If I were to scrabble down this hill, the path would take me to the cavelike rock shelf (or shelflike cave) that was featured in my post of 1.6.12. However, this fine gelid morning I had no desire to scrabble down this hill. I pocketed the camera, pulled gloves back on as quickly as possible, and continued on my way, pondering the perspectives I had just recorded and execrating the bitter gods of winter.It occurred to me that the two perspectives in question--a bridge we may cross, and a hill we may descend--represented the two directions--two alternatives--we continually faced in everyday life: we were either crossing from one place to another, or we were descending--literally or figuratively, from our present level to a lower one. Put another way, are we consistently content to remain at and accept the status quo that we continually face? Or do we consistently reject that status quo and habitually seek out new frontiers, different faces and places and experiences? Or--discontent with that status quo but unwilling to diverge from it--whether out of laziness, cowardice or skepticism--do we allow ourselves to become depressed, to let ourselves slip downward, so that we are no longer even seen by others, perhaps not seen even by ourselves, but rather become mired in a sad-eyed lowland (thanks, Bob) where nothing ever happens and neither you nor anyone else even cares that it doesn't?
Someone will say: but wait, there is another direction! You need not accept the status quo or simply move from one place to another, but neither must you slip into a downward spiral! You can ascend! You can raise your eyes and heart and footsteps to the stars!
Yes, we can. But sadly, this seems to be the least considered alternative for most people. Why is that? Perhaps because mounting a staircase or climbing a hill requires effort? Perhaps because once you ascend higher than that status quo herd below, you will become conspicuous, and you would avoid being conspicuous to others at all costs? Rising above the herd requires bravery and determination and desire. It requires a hunger for that which the majority never get to experience--for that which you have never before gotten to experience--for the fruit at the top of the tree, which may be the hardest to reach, yet the sweetest to taste.
Some thoughts to consider on this cold cold cold day.
Life flows on, in and around us--we can float along in its currents or sink below its surface, we can climb onto the shore or swim into another channel,or most radical of all, we can martial our strength and swim upstream.
D.E.S.
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