On Things That Remain the Same

Sometimes it seems that nothing has changed since I was a kid in the way that I view the world, and in the way that things effect me. My reactions remain pretty consistent. My ability to predict these reactions, perhaps, gets better - which results in my avoidance of certain situations - but the reactions themselves are pretty much the same.

I find myself recreating situations of comfort that were existent when I was a kid without my having to create them. For instance, I find myself taking great comfort in breakfasting with a group of people and talking for hours after, and I find myself fantasizing about hosting large breakfast parties on Sunday mornings. This seems like an emulation of what my Grandparents used to do out in the country. Of course, the original event itself can never be recreated, but the desire to do so seems to be an attempt to ensure that there is some sort of a constant in my life that ties the present to the past. When location and company is constantly changing, there are few links of this sort, and many of them involve tradition. Family is another.

My natural surroundings seem to be another constant that I return to for comfort. They, too, are always changing; but unlike the changing nature of circumstance or friendship or location, there is something really serene and beautiful about this kind of change, at least when it involves the changing of the seasons and not the unnatural changes brought on by human beings. I worry that the comforting nature of - well, nature itself - will be disrupted by human nature. This is selfish, and really my worries concerning our effect on nature are broader, but since in this context I'm discussing my own relationship to nature, perhaps I will be understood.

Another comfort to me throughout the years that has remained effective since I was a young child is just solitude itself. This - especially when coupled with time spent in natural surroundings - keeps me grounded and helps me to reevaluate my priorities and limits. There's a clarity of thought that can be found when alone that doesn't even compare to the hyperactive series of tangents that I experience when in good company. Both are equally important and rewarding, yet each serves a very different purpose. There's something to be said for withdrawing, too, because the reality that manifests itself is one in which those friends who remain through these periods of withdrawal and in spite of these periods of withdrawal are those who truly seem to understand me - and when they don't, they give me the benefit of the doubt. I appreciate this.

The two other comforts that most readily come to mind are more distractions than constants. The impetuses for these two things remain constant, yet the things themselves are erratic and by nature spontaneous and disruptive. In a positive way that reinforces my appreciation for all of the aforementioned. These two things are art (and by this I mean listening to music, making music, reading literature, writing, drawing, looking at art, watching films, etc.) and the act of being stir-crazy. The first of these two is rich and multi-faceted and worthy of an entire entry devoted to each part of it, so I'll leave it be for now. The latter is probably at first look difficult to understand, but just as valuable. By "stir-crazy" I mean discontent with just remaining stagnant and instead craving movement and adventure and progress. It is this constant feeling of a desire to do something and go somewhere and travel on in a forward motion in my life that (perhaps aside from friends and loved ones) gives life the most purpose of all, because it is what causes me to pursue new avenues and meet new people and start new projects. It is what makes me plug my headphones in and listen to that record I've never really given a chance. It's what makes me write a song. It's what makes me go out into the fields and just sit in the vastness of open space. It's what makes me plan my next course of action and dream about all the places and people I've never seen. It's what provides me with the comfort of the realization that I will never be terribly unhappy or bored or impoverished because I will just get too antsy for mental stimulation for this to really happen. I feel fortunate in this respect. The interestingness of life itself is enough reason to wake up every morning. Curiosity is the best thing in the world and, even if it begets a kind of idealism that leaves the individual always looking forward for something greater, it is still positive; for this kind of idealism is what causes the individual to provide better solutions, more accurate answers... This is the kind of idealism that causes the individual who is dissatisfied with the present to look at the reasons for this, and an awareness of these reasons is what leads to social and political change. It is what perpetuates scientific research. It is what makes better art. It is what disrupts dysfunctional governments. And it is what sometimes keeps children from making the same mistakes that their parents made. It's what allows for growth.