Ubersupra-Relevant Diversions
A lot of thoughts simmering tonight, none of which I will elaborate on but several of which I will take time to outline.
A friend posted recently that activism was true education. I could not agree more. I’d like to that statement and add a dimension to it as well. For me, much as I resent the fact, activism is also the primary component of my social interaction. I very quickly get bored and frustrated and out of place when “hanging” with people to whom the word activism is raison d’etre to change the topic or turn up the volume. So I’ve been deliberating the role of activism in my life, and it’s a mixed bag. I want to be able to walk into a social setting and feel at home regardless of the context, but at the same time, if that context isn’t a purposeful one, I find it draining and de-motivating. In short, I suck at “just hanging.” I start pacing, and fidgeting, and staring at the ceiling, and generally being a less than sociable guest.
I have a hard time thinking of a better feeling, socially speaking (not physically or emotionally) than the aftermath of a successful event. The positive vibe created by the passionate airing of ideas and solutions to problems and the spirited social atmosphere which tends to prevail is something I find tremendously uplifting and is something I seek all the time. Perhaps it’s why I’m so frequently disappointed.
So I’ve established that my role is an activist one and that anything less leaves leaves me unsatisfied. Robert Jordan’s epic fantasy The Wheel of Time contains an intriguing concept; that of ta’veren. In the fantasy, the context of the events that transpire is The Pattern; the giant web of life in which each individual weaves his or her own thread. The Pattern is complex; not all can influence it significantly. It can absorb minor changes and weave around them, but only some individuals have the power to influence large-scale change; these individuals are ta’veren.
“sometimes the Wheel bends a life-thread, or several threads, in such a way that all the surrounding threads are forced to swirl around it, and those force other threads, and those still others, and on and on. The first bending to make the Web is ta’veren,” (http://www.generationterrorists.com/quotes/wot/eyeworld.html)
Ta’veren is a neat concept to run with. Are we all ta’veren or are just some of us, like for instance, Martin Luther King or Adolf Hitler, or JFK, ta’veren? Can we all change the world we live and do we have an obligation to try, or should we simply go with the flow and trust that things will work out? How have I changed the world? Will anything I’ve done trigger history-making change? Who can say?
That’s one concept, and for no very good reason, I’d just like to copy the opening to each book of the Wheel of Time, for its poetic and lyric beauty as well as its philosophical relevance, in light of a discussion with an old friend at Afterthoughts last night:
“The Wheel of Time turns, and ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legends fade to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the third age by some, an Age yet to come, an age long passed, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings or endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.”
In a different vein, we all have sacred places. We may not have as strong a connection to our environment, and by environment I mean more than just the natural world, as those who inhabited this land before us, but I think that inevitably most of us develop strong associations with certain places; places we go to for comfort, or for relaxation, or places to visit for inspiration. Places that hold strong memories, or perhaps places that touch a chord deep within us though we may not know why. What are yours, if any come to mind?
All of the places that are sacred to me occur right here in the Fraser Valley; I haven’t yet travelled extensively enough with sufficient duration to really get to know any other places. Most of them are closeby, not more than a 45 minute bike ride, though some are a little further. Some are sacred to me for the memories associated with the people who accompanied me there; some sacred for other, spiritual, or associative reasons.
Most have to do with waterways; salmon have been and are my passion, along with all that sustains them and us. One is the point where McLennan Creek goes under Olund Road, where two tributaries of it meet and converge into one fast riffle before emptying into a deep slow moving pool that serves as excellent habitat for juvenile fish, trout, good hunting grounds for heron and kingfisher, and a well earned respite for the salmon that travel upstream to this point.
Another is up Clayburn Road a ways; just downstream of where two Poignant Creek tributaries merge and form a unique waterfall; one of the most beautiful sites in all of Abbotsford. There are several waterfalls here, most magnificent in mid-winter during high flows, and no salmon can travel upstream of it. It’s where I got stoned for the first time; and where young people like to hang-out at night and build fires. I like during all times; during the day to admire it’s beauty, or during the night around a fire to hear its roar and absorb its wildness. It’s so uniquely un-Abbotsfordian; it doesn’t seem to fit in to this city of farms and flat roads and motorists.
There’s a giant Sitka Spruce along Downes Creek; perhaps the biggest tree remaining near the urban core, and almost no one knows of it. It has to be protected.
All libraries are sacred. They all have their own unique character and ambience and hold the records of that which we cannot afford to forget.
The place where I grew up that is now a parking lot is sacred, especially the crumpy Douglas Fir tree with perfect crow’s nest whorled branches that still stands in what used to be our front yard is sacred. It would have broken my heart if they’d cut that down, too.
A last thought – does loving make one lovable? Or is there more one must do?
