Skiing season is here. You would never know by the weather here in the lowlands, but you can tell by looking at all the advertisement for winter sports gear.
Invariably, these ads will depict some incredibly cool dude or dudess doing something unbelievable in some impossibly pristine area. And maybe it's a sign of the velocity at which I am approaching that stage of life known as being a really grumpy old fart, but those beautiful pictures give me the same feeling as somebody scratching their fingernails down a blackboard.
For one thing, I am beginning to feel that nature that looks that friggin' good should perhaps be left alone. Yes, I know, getting a glimpse of spectacular nature will trigger us into protecting it.
Ok. Maybe.
But then there's the unintended propaganda effect. These pictures tell us that the only beautiful nature out there is one which is unfit for human habitation anyway, places that can be used for nothing except as recreational areas. As long as we preserve the mountain tops and the deserts for their pure awesomeness, maybe we won't notice what an awful mess we're making of the rest of this planet.
Why does middle-class "fun" today equate with "going somewhere previously unspoilt"? I am highly guilty of this mind-set myself. But gradually, the vision of packs of dreadlocked ski-bums in garish, plastic clothing chartering helicopters to get to those really remote off-piste places is starting to seem less and less innocent to me. We mushers have a lot of explaining to do too, for that matter.
Ideally, we would all live in really, really nice places. Places where we could go bicycling or skiing or surfing or maybe somebody could develop some real high-adrenaline gardening. We could live in places we didn't feel we ever had to escape from. And maybe this could even work in reverse, we could all simply decide to do fun things right where we live, even if the place we live in doesn't look all that great.
Sure, a change of scenery is nice. But the Great Spectacular Nature Show put on by advertising companies does end up being read as "everything cool is somewhere else", which can not possibly be a healthy message in the long run.
Whine, whine, whine.
4 comments:
I have and continue to be guilty of the "everything cool is somewhere else" syndrome. You'd think after all these years I'd know better. Man carries his own baggage with him be it good or bad wherever he/she goes. As Calvin (in Calvin and Hobbs comics) said about what man is doing to the planet "The only bright side to all this is that eventually there may not be a piece of the planet worth fighting over."
I do believe I have gotten over the "If I only had (fill in the blank) I'd be set for life" syndrome but it's still a struggle.
You said: "...we could all simply decide to do fun things right where we live, even if the place we live in doesn't look all that great." Well said. This is my philosophy--you have nailed it.
I have to admit that I have been fortunate to have mostly lived in places overall that have much beauty; mountains, oceans, forests. But I did not always live in an exact spot that was completely great; perhaps for example, "too much traffic," "too much rain," "too many religious nuts," or "funky-looking-lower-income houses." But how quickly can one come up with fun things to do: Ride bikes to park and play Bocce ball. Go down to in-town creek and look for red foxes in the city. (maybe pick up some trash while there.) Walk somewhere with dogs or pack a picnic. And doing this right in your own environs means you didn't have to spend hours driving or flying somewhere else, eating up your day and exacting a larger toll. Especially on a bicycle, you will learn so much about the area you live in--you'll see and learn much more than you can from a seat in a car. When I do go afar for adventure, I try not to arrive with the mindset that I will "make" that place into what I want it to be, or into what I am accustomed to; as if I had to bring my virtual home and typical routines with me as some sort of template to be perpetrated on a different locale.
One of the more upsetting visuals I encounter in the popular media is the image of a lusty 4 wheel drive vehicle, perched on top of a fragile natural feature somewhere. The patter says that with this vehicle, one can "escape" or "retreat" or "be one with nature" or some other car-centric fallacy. Don't misunderstand, I drive a truck when I must. But I wouldn't climb all over a meadow or other pristine natural feature with it.
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I am enjoying your blog, by the way. Just stumbled across it today searching velomobile ideas.
I am a carpenter, boatbuilder, writer, cyclist (former racer,) mechanic, a terrible welder. Anyway just a general "do-it-yourself" person. Always the one making something, hopefully useful. When for pay, always try for precise and beautiful-- but for amusement I'm not afraid to bang together something crazy just for fun. I would be the guy (though I am a gal) in the movie "My Life As a Dog" ("Mitt liv som hund" directed by Lasse Hallström, from the novel by Reidar Jönsson)--I'd be the one who fancifully fabricated a "space capsule" and sent young Ingemar into "orbit" over a cable suspended across the road. I live for projects like that. Hopefully no one gets stuck in the air as Ingemar did, though. Now that, was doing something fun where one lived, for sure.
The Accidental Hermit blog from Sweden, comment made Aug 14, 2010:
You said: "...we could all simply decide to do fun things right where we live, even if the place we live in doesn't look all that great." Well said. This is my philosophy--you have nailed it.
I have to admit that I have been fortunate to have mostly lived in places overall that have much beauty; mountains, oceans, forests. But I did not always live in an exact spot that was completely great; perhaps for example, "too much traffic," "too much rain," "too many religious nuts," or "funky-looking-lower-income houses." But how quickly can one come up with fun things to do: Ride bikes to park and play Bocce ball. Go down to in-town creek and look for red foxes in the city. (maybe pick up some trash while there.) Walk somewhere with dogs or pack a picnic. And doing this right in your own environs means you didn't have to spend hours driving or flying somewhere else, eating up your day and exacting a larger toll. Especially on a bicycle, you will learn so much about the area you live in--you'll see and learn much more than you can from a seat in a car. When I do go afar for adventure, I try not to arrive with the mindset that I will "make" that place into what I want it to be, or into what I am accustomed to; as if I had to bring my home and typical routines with me as some sort of template to be perpetrated on a different locale.
One of the most upsetting visuals I encounter in the popular media is the image of a lusty 4 wheel drive vehicle, perched on top of a fragile natural feature somewhere. The patter says that with this vehicle, one can "escape" or "retreat" or "be one with nature" or some other car-centric fallacy. Don't misunderstand, I drive a truck when I must. But I wouldn't climb all over a meadow or other pristine natural feature with it.
----
I am enjoying your blog, by the way. Just stumbled across it today searching velomobile ideas.
I am a carpenter, boatbuilder, writer, cyclist (former racer,) mechanic, though a terrible welder, anyway just a general "do-it-yourself" person. Always the one making something, hopefully useful. When for pay, always try for precise and beautiful-- but for amusement I'm not afraid to bang together something crazy just for fun. I would be the guy (though I am a gal) in the movie "My Life As a Dog" ("Mitt liv som hund" directed by Lasse Hallström, from the novel by Reidar Jönsson)--I'd be the one who fancifully fabricated a "space capsule" and sent young Ingemar into "orbit" over a cable suspended across the road. I live for projects like that. Hopefully no one gets stuck in the air as Ingemar did, though. Now that, was doing something fun where one lived, for sure.
You said: "...we could all simply decide to do fun things right where we live, even if the place we live in doesn't look all that great." Well said. This is my philosophy--you have nailed it.
I have to admit that I have been fortunate to have mostly lived in places overall that have much beauty; mountains, oceans, forests. But I did not always live in an exact spot that others would say is great; perhaps for example, "too much traffic," "too much rain," "too many religious nuts," etc. I didn't let those things bother me. Anyway how quickly can one come up with fun things to do: ride bikes to park and play Bocce ball. Go to in-town creek and look for red foxes living wild in the city. (maybe pick up some trash while there.) Walk somewhere with dogs, or pack a picnic. Doing this in your own environs means you didn't spend hours driving or flying somewhere else, exacting a larger toll. Especially on a bicycle, you will learn so much about the area you live in--you'll see much more than you can from a seat in a car. When I do go afar for adventure, I try not to arrive with the mindset that I will make that place into what I want it to be, or into what I am accustomed to; as if I had to bring my home and typical routines with me as some sort of template to be perpetrated on a different locale.
One of the most upsetting visuals I encounter in the popular media is the image of a lusty 4 wheel drive vehicle, perched on top of a fragile natural feature somewhere. The patter says that with this vehicle, one can "escape" or "retreat" or "be one with nature" or some other car-centric fallacy. Don't misunderstand, I drive a truck when I must. But I wouldn't climb all over a meadow or other pristine natural feature with it.
----
I am enjoying your blog, by the way. Just stumbled across it today searching velomobile ideas.
I am a carpenter, boatbuilder, writer, cyclist (former racer,) mechanic, a terrible welder; anyway just a general "do-it-yourself" person. Always the one making something, hopefully useful. When for pay, always try for precise and beautiful. But for amusement I'm not afraid to bang together something crazy just for fun. I would be the guy (though I am a gal) in the movie "My Life As a Dog" ("Mitt liv som hund" directed by Lasse Hallström, from novel by Reidar Jönsson)--I'd be the one who fancifully fabricated a "space capsule" and sent young Ingemar into "orbit" over a cable suspended across the road. I live for projects like that. Hopefully no one gets stuck in the air as Ingemar did, though. Now that, was doing something fun where one lived, for sure.
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