FEBRUARY 11, 2020 – As the sun rose yesterday morning, it revealed a spectacular display of mid-winter hoarfrost. When I rushed out the back doorway to catch my bus, the beauty was at its peak. An inner voice urged me to return, change into ski clothes and head for “Little Switzerland” to take “Ooo, Ahhh!” photos. Another voice—of reason and responsibility—blasted me for thinking . . . unreasonably and irresponsibly. My bus approached just as I was looking to cross to my stop. Soon I was aboard.
So were the voices, now arguing with each other. I felt partial toward the aesthetically inclined voice and annoyed by the one preaching “reason and responsibility.”
“Go jump in a snowbank,” I growled at the preachy voice.
“That’s it!” cried the other. “But now you have to jump off this bus before it goes too far!”
I wasn’t quick enough. Before I—“we”?—knew it, the bus was hurtling toward downtown Minneapolis. The voice of reason and responsibility settled in comfortably and then, in character, directed me to open my book and “make constructive use of my commute time.”
“Nothin’ doin’,” said the aesthetic voice. “If you caved to ‘reason and responsibility,’ you’re now going to put that stupid—sorry; that interesting—book down so you can look out the window and see the hoarfrost over the landscape passing by.”
The scenery was stunning. I absorbed as much detail as the bus’s speed allowed, and yes, I regretted my decision to listen at the outset to reason and responsibility instead of aesthetics. Oh, the fleeting nature of . . . nature!
Just then, two things happened. First, once the bus was about two miles from home, I noticed the limit of the hoarfrost. It was a very localized phenomenon. Second, yet another voice called for my attention. I recognized it immediately as “higher reason.” I allowed it a say.
“You and your camera—I mean, phone!” it started off. “Wherever you and millions like you go, you think you have to take a photo or a video of everything you encounter. It often reaches absurd proportions. Just recall those tour buses in Paris packed with Chinese tourists with their phones and selfie sticks. The worst is at the Louvre, where they elbow their way in like a pack of starved, thirsty children competing for food and drink, only to reveal they’re in search of gumball machines. Snap a photo of Mona Lisa, one of Venus de Milo, another of the Coronation of Napoleon (How quaint to Chinese with memories of Mao!)—then back to the buses for an assault on Tour Eiffel. Do they not realize better shots are available on the internet?
“Now, how about you? You too try vainly to transform ephemerality into permanency. Like a little kid with a net on a stick, you chase the butterfly. Why can’t you just admire that winged insect in all its glory, flying hither and thither in the fickle breeze? Why can’t you be satisfied with what reigns in the moment?”
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© 2020 by Eric Nilsson
1 Comment
We had the same scenery here this morning. The hoarfrost covered the river bottoms behind the house. Birds we busy at the feeder and the Sharp Skinned Hawk waited for the right moment to sample the buffet. It lasted for about an hour or two cups of coffee, depending on how you measure time. Retirement is truly a wonderful thing. Alan
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