Hiking today, I came upon… a fox! Lovely small kit fox, all dusty golden, with a hint of black at the tops of their slightly oversized ears and fluffy tail. I’ve seen bobcats on the trail before (hello cousin!) and plenty of deer and turkeys, but this was the first fox, and I feel lucky and honoured to have caught sight of one.
(No picture to share, unfortunately — I don’t bring my phone on my hikes, so when my hand went instinctualy to my pocket there was nothing there :P)
Disneyland Monorail, taken a week ago!
This is a philosophical statement. It is intended to spark thinking and examining.
If you spend any time within the Happiest Place On Earth*, there’s one for-sure thing: you will see a lot of very much not happy people.
And for this I don’t mean just upset two year olds who dropped their ice cream. I mean of all ages, of all cultures, of all types.
Doesn’t matter who or where, we are all the same in this way… we can be most riotously miserable no matter the circumstances. Even in the midst of lavish surroundings catering to the entire panoply of delight, giddiness, amusement, thrills, savoury, sweet, colourful, surprising, and all manner of enchanted storybooking come to life, even with all that pulling for at the very least a smidge of amusement, we can yet be downright upset, morose, and blah. Perhaps, even, for the whole day.
How fascinating!
There’s something really great about witnessing this.
For while it may, at first, be distressing that we appear to be so readily thrown towards the dark, even while we stand in the midst of a thousand lights, it isn’t. For this equally indicates that the reverse is for-sure true: our circumstances are, quite often, just our circumstances, and even when we are caught visiting the Most Miserable Place on Earth** we can also totally be a very much happy person.
In spite of our circumstances, we have agency. It is something we can work towards. We can gain the freedom to be, no matter the circumstances.
We may not always be as happy as a tagline, but also we needn’t suffer.
And when we are in a place full of play, we can jump and squeal and run about and indeed really make ourselves the happiest place to be.
* Disneyland, according to their tagline…
** Not sure a theme park with this tagline would be all that popular, really.
This is a fun little idea, taking the idea of shutters and writing it large across the facade of the house. Opening a few, most, or all playfully changes the look and feel of the house, shifting throughout the day. Even when completely closed, the cutouts (which derive from symbols used to identify boats and gear in this traditional fishing town) keeps things warm, illuminated at night like a giant tea light lantern.
The reverse, of course, also works, cutting the glare and heat-ray effect from direct sunlight and casting a delightful patterns within. (Though I do not know why they do not have any furniture…)
This is a philosophical statement. It is intended to spark thinking and examining.
Tonight in comic form:
This… is all shades of both interesting/bizzare…
… and hilarious if you follow one of the comments’ suggestions and replace the redacted areas with classic D&D names:
“Vecna considers GYGAX to be eccentric . . .”
“Tiamat added that . . .”
“Mordenkainen advised that GYGAX…”
“… his knowledge of “The Tomb of Horrors”, also known as FRESNO.”
This is a philosophical statement. It is intended to spark thinking and examining.
When I was young, my parents owned a cassette of Tchaikovsky music that led off with none other than the 1812 Overture. Start the tape, Side A, first thing, there it was. And I loved it. I listened to it over, and over, and over again, the full thing, from the opening strings to the final carillons. I’d get into it, mock-conducting as the music went by, spinning the story of the music in my head. I knew it inside out and backwards.
Some years later, I came across a different recording of the 1812th. I don’t remember if I heard it on the radio or off another cassette, but I do remember instantly knowing one thing: I didn’t like it. At all. It was just so WRONG. Why were they playing with the wrong tempo here? And what was with that different instrumentation there? Who in their right mind would place the emphasis on those particular notes? Or have the brass take the lead in that passage? Why change the arrangement like that?
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE??
I had so gotten to know a particular version of the piece that it became the “right” version. It wasn’t even a version, it was just RIGHT. Normal. Proper. Truth. Reality. How it should be played. It’s what sounded best. It wasn’t judgment, it was self obvious. This was what the 1812th Overture was. Everything else was flawed (and so were you for not doing it right).
Soooooo, a bit righteous there.
Of course, at that age, I had not yet learned that classical music – any music, for that matter – was open to so much interpretation and alteration by conductors and musicians and artists. And, certainly, I was very much not alone in this.
Less immediately obvious, however, is that this very much doesn’t apply only in the realm of music.
Our brains are pattern making machines. We take what we experience and turn it into reality. We inherit what we see and hear and experience around us in our culture, family, society, we add to it that which we encounter, decisions we make, events that happen to us, outcomes of our (in)actions, and it all gets wrapped up into a nice little ball that we take with us as we go about our lives. And whenever something doesn’t match that what’s within that little ball, our feelings come online pretty quick: dislike, upset, unease, weirded out, disgust.
We get so familiar with something that our feelings quickly reject anything outside of that “norm.” Things can feel bad just because they’re foreign, different, or plain new to us.
Of course, because it’s our feelings, it, well, feels right and truthful to us. We’re having the correct reaction. That really is bad. And wrong.
There is a large pitfall in that immediate, and quick, rejection:
We can miss out on so much because of it.
Architecture, art, music, literature, cuisines, styles, aesthetics, people – a whole world of exquisite beauty and form we can miss out on by being dismissive and moving on.
But even more importantly, it can completely blind us and shut down avenues towards listening to each other, towards compassion, and towards growing a society that benefits us all, with human rights, dignity, and with the growth of love, understanding, and freedom.
It limits who we are and who we can be.
Those other 1812th Overtures I heard weren’t bad. I just wasn’t used to them. I’d never experienced them before. The ick factor was real, yes, but there was no meaning behind it, other than simply ick. Other than simply that unfamiliarity. I had to put aside what I knew and expected to listen generously and with curiosity.
And so it continues. All the time. Let the feeling be, and go forward to explore. To get past that first thought and go beyond.
And through that gain access to new realms of possibility, and to glorious new worlds of wonder.
Books, architecture, and delicious adaptive reuse. An ancient church + insertion + lighting = one glorious space, and one of the most impressive bookstores on the planet.
I really love the clarity of concept (shown in the sketch above) and the simplicity of the basic design: a stark multistory bookcase that hugs one side of the old church’s nave. The black steel contrasts with the white of the stone pillars and arches, while the colourful books mirrors and joins hands with the fading frescoes on the ceiling. It calls itself out, never trying to fake its way into being an original part of the church, yet it’s rhythms and proportions work harmoniously with elder. And best of all, the placement of the bookshelf does nothing to diminish the grandeur of the space, or of the amazing windows. Quite the contrary – by occupying but a part of the nave it heightens (pun semi-intended) the existing space.
And then, when you get up in the bookcase, and find yourself nestled up close and personal with vaults, arches, and those frescoes, the perspective shifts are wonderful indeed.
Also really liking the design for the apse, with a robust chandelier that creates an interplay of low, intimate space inside of the taller exuberance, and the built-in furniture that feels both at once monastic as well as contemporary.
This was a church that had been deconsecrated in the late 1700s and had languished in use and purpose, and it fills me with excitement to see it get this second lease on life. And doubly so for such a great space.
Selexyz Dominicanen Bookstore by Merkx+Girod Architecten
Maps of the Atlantic, the Great Lakes, and the boundaries of Canada from (likely) the 1600s. Amazing, meticulous work. And I really like that there’s a list of birds, animals, and plants at the bottom…
Photos by Jim Hines taken at the Bibliothèque Municipale d’Epinal
Lynx Thoughts 