Friday morning at City Brew, a rainy fall Friday morning. We are slowly sliding into the colorless world that is winter in Missoula.
That colorless world fuels my love of color, of knitting with color, my love of knitting. With yarn and needles I can create warm, colorful garments that fight the winter doldrums.
I love to sit in a coffee shop. I savor my cup of coffee and glance at my fellow coffee (or tea) drinkers. Today there are two people discussing something business related. They are intent and busy for quite a while. I look over by the fireplace. There is a couple sitting in the two chairs. They are very obviously there together, though each on is busy with a solitary pursuit-he is reading the paper and she is working on her tablet. They are comfortable together, and don’t need to be constantly talking. Students are busy studying, and others are reading. I read my Kindle and watch my cafe mates.
Each of us an individual whether we are part of a pair or not. Each of us shares some qualities-we need love, security, warmth, health & sustenance. Each of us has individual tastes, preferences, loves. No one of us is less legitimately a person than another.
I wish for a world that truly glories in individuality, uniqueness while recognizing our human relatedness. We do not have to think alike, look alike, act alike. We can each be who we are, and appreciate others that share our space. I think life would be so boring, monotonous if we were all alike.
The current news cycles and activities in the US seem to be going in the opposite direction. There are days that the current norm seems to be ‘You only count if you are a very rich, powerful white male’. Everyone not in the ‘special few’ suffers, but most of all the children.
I am not going to rant, I am simply going to state that my heart hurts if that is the norm. What a country devoid of color that scenario creates. Individual color of all kinds is lost. Our creativity, our judgement. I am reminded of Madeline L’Engle’s “A Wrinkle in Time” In their quest to save their father, Meg, Calvin and Charles Wallace end up on Camazotz. Everything is done in unison. The people are fearful,, they are perfectly trained. It is a frightening place. I read that book many years ago, and have re-read it through the years. I think I need to read it again now.
Are we sliding into a winter of the soul? A winter of the heart? I will fight that slide with all I have in me. I will recognize daily that each of us is a rich, wonderful addition to the human race. Each of us counts!