The beige interior walls of the house my late wife and I bought about twelve years ago, when we moved to Hot Springs Village, were not offensive. But they were not especially appealing, either. So, a few years after we moved in, I painted the walls in the main living areas. We chose a light grey color—maintaining the neutrality of the environment but dramatically improving the “feel” of the place. The soft grey walls enhanced the the already open, airy feel of the rooms. Something about those dull tan walls had made the rooms seem smaller and less attractive. Applying grey paint seemed to allow more energy to fill the space—lightening the beige walls enlivened the environment; even though neither grey nor beige are considered especially bright and energetic colors. The driveway of that house, though, remained tired and drab. Its dull tan base was embedded with a pebbled mix; at least its small beige and light brown and dirty light grey stones lent texture to its broad expanse. But the texture did not save it from being fundamentally dull and decidedly unattractive. If I had known of a reasonably affordable way to hide its unpleasant appearance, I would have changed it. The same is true of the driveway of our current house. Though the embedded pebbles differ from those in the old driveway, they do no more to improve the appearance of what seems like acres and acres of intentionally discouraging scenery. A series of one-word descriptions come to mind when I wish to describe the driveway in front of this house, as well as the other one: brutal; depressing; glum; oppressive; uninviting; uncomely; unsightly; drab; disagreeable; homely; unalluring; and the list could go on and on and on.
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The opening pages of the websites of major national newspapers in various parts of the world offer glimpses of what is deemed important to different nationalities around the world. Not only what is important, but how perspectives differ about the same issues. How many of us care about what is important to other people in other places? What proportion of us care whether our viewpoints differ—and why should we care, especially in light of the fact we insist our vantage point is the only one that matters? Wait! Do we really believe that? I am afraid many of us really do. Propaganda is part of our curricula. Revisionist history “proves” inherent superiority; just take a look at the regularly-revised syllabus.
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Which comes first, behavior or belief? Or do they occur at the same time, but in different dimensions? Do ideas spur us to action, or do actions give birth to ideas? The answers follow the same bread crumbs as those timeless questions: Which came first, the chicken or the octave? Is quinine a better analgesic than distance, or is illumination heavier than Wednesday?
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Low blood pressure and consequent weakness caused me to be a tad off-balance as I stumbled around the doctor’s office yesterday, leading my oncologist to cancel the chemotherapy session before it started. Instead, she prescribed infusion of a big bag of fluids and advised me to return for more of the same tomorrow—Friday. Apparently, my insufficient water consumption of late had left me dehydrated. And I thought I had been a water-consuming over-achiever.
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Clouds passing quickly overhead darken the bark on tall pine trees. Or perhaps it’s that clouds’ shadows cast on trees are erased when the wind unblocks the sun’s illumination. Perspective. Again. It’s always perspective that takes the blame or shares the responsibility. Those are dangerous thoughts; but, then, all thoughts can be dangerous.
