The place for things green in the City Beautiful
Have you ever heard the story of Stone Soup? It’s one of those timeless stories that talks about how, by itself, a community can only get so far; the ingredients seem bland and lacking. But together, with everyone pitching just a few little scraps into the boiling water, we can stir together something wonderful, a tasty Stone Soup.
We are hard-wired for community. Despite wherever we find ourselves upon the extraverted-introverted continuum, there is a basic and powerful element fused within our emotional DNA that seeks meaningful connections.
Writing this in the midst of the nasty and passionate 2004 general election season, I remember my political coming of age of 12 years ago-or perhaps it is better described as a political balancing act.
Every morning we ride our bikes with our son to school. Sometimes we skate, or even walk. You probably see us as you drive by and think we’re nuts, or that have too much time on our hands. I see you pass by and wonder why you haven’t figured out our secret!
Recently I have had the dubious privilege of possessing a set of school photographs taken of me during the mid 1970s.
Strep throat was consuming my health, my awareness, my movements. Yet, the actor in me knew the show must go on.
Media and art for years now have sought to shock us and bombard us into paying attention. To rise above the noise and hype, artists and venues have resorted to what the many call “negative art,” using tactics that scare us into paying attention. Ads that show a burly thief breaking into your home, threatening your family, selling alarm systems. As a result, modern art often falls short.
Each breaking dawn demands of us the tasks we must accomplish, the problems we must solve, the relationships we must manage. We need not proactively fill our calendars with many meetings, appointments and errands—life will happily and often subconsciously do so for us.
About a decade ago I published a newspaper column declaring my universal disdain for running. It hurt my shins, I bemoaned. It made me itchy, I groused.
We have a creeping tendency to live within the prison of our “shoulds” and “oughts.” Disappointment in decisions we have made, or results left by the hand of fate–often shaded by our own misperceptions–can plague us and engender a vicious cycle of regret.
Brevard County turns off its lights during turtle nesting season. No big deal you say? Can you see the implications? Can you imagine the ramifications? To me, it shows a deeper story, a profound quality that sets us apart from so many other communities. To me, it shows that there is yet hope.
Growing up in the Daytona Beach, Florida area, the ocean was always nearby. It was a place to clear my head, to refocus, to dream again.