Building....stone upon stone

Our own small stone of activism,

which might not seem to measure up

to the rugged boulders of heroism we have so admired

is a paltry offering toward the building of an edifice of hope ...

For we can do nothing substantial toward

changing our course on the planet, a destructive one,

without rousing ourselves, individual by individual,

and bringing our small, imperfect stones to the pile.

- Alice Walker,

The Impossible Will Take a Little While:

A Citizen's Guide to Hope in a Time of Fear.

Nostalgia

I haven't meant to turn into a wordsmith but Roger Cohen has set me off with his piece about Paris v Havana. He contrasts the packaged history and nostalgia of Paris with the crumbling authenticity of Havana.

I was surprised to find that this definition and history of nostalgia gives what I consider to be a relatively recent attribution of the word. 1688 in fact. The reason I find this "recent" is because it seems to me that there is one always-present factor basic to nostalgia and that is age. Why did it take until 1688 to 'discover' it.

Nostalgia is a process related to time: looking back, re-thinking, re-membering, re-living, re-flecting. It seems to me that nostalgia is really the province of those of greater age. Surely, those in their 20s can be nostalgic for their teen years - but the older one gets there is certainly more to be nostalgic about. Or perhaps it just seems that way because one indulges in it more and more.

Nostalgia emerged in a longing for homeland and landscape - a quite Aboriginal feeling for country. This brings to mind the opening lines of The Go-Between:

"The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there."

One could challenge Hartley, though. Why am I challenged so often with the feeling that I am living in a foreign land and things are done differently here? Why is nostalgia so indulgent and luxurious - and, above all, so familiar? Why do I find so many things have got worse or become degraded or gone down-hill - in spite of acknowledging that some other things are much better? Why is nostalgia so comfortable and so warm?

Roger Cohen's Paris v. Havana does admit the price that has been paid for the nostalgia and authenticity of Havana. I went once, many years ago, to drive past the home of my paternal grandparents. I came away in tears and I have never returned. The wonderful old Queenslander which was the site of so many happy holidays and joyous family Christmases had been turned, insensitively, into flats and covered with pink stucco. Conversely, the more modest home of my maternal grandparents has been renovated sensitively and it is a joy to see the old home so fondly liberated and loved.

That is how it is with nostalgia. It is a bitter-sweet experience. A return to reality never matches remembrance. The world does not stand still on its axis. There is change and decay; restoration and new life. We must seek the wisdom to act wisely, intelligently, sensitively, and lovingly to-day, in this minute. Future generations will always find that even when we do all we know how to do, we haven't got it quite right. But, perhaps, the good spirit of our actions will infuse even an imperfect reality.

Seasons of the Soul: Advent 1 2008

From website, www.earthsong.org.au

We are being called into a new place
and our creativity is being placed
at the service of Earth,
in a new millennium and a new moment.

There is an awakening of deep energy,
for embracing the interconnectedness of the whole life community
and finding the place of the human within this community.

Living within the Divine Mystery,
we celebrate the sacredness of all beings
and the integrity of all creation.

Drawing on the wisdoms of our past,
we are moving into new expressions
of our response to the creation:
'groaning in one great act of giving birth'.

We seek to learn new ways,
widening our horizons,
believing in a possible dream,
touching into our deepest experience
to give and to receive life.