Humanities & Classics 3270
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Sixties Forum
Humanities & Classics 3270 |
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This is it. The class, this thing we all took part in, has reached a conclusion. Most of you out there, judging by your profound thoughts and unfamiliar perspectives, really give me hope; you all give me the idea that you literally eat all this mental candy up. I love the fact that most of those I have conversed with or observed honestly give a damn. The ideas of the 1960's, in their most sincere, could never belong to one specific age group or social class or culture. These thoughts remain not entirely original, nor esoteric, but maybe well cultivated. 1960-1969 exist as inconsequential numbers that have come to represent things that were a LONG time coming and much overdue.
So what does this mean for me and any wisdom gained. Every time I puff a joint or throw on a retro-hand-me-down jacket of my father's or hitchhike I am living the ideals of my fore bearing generation. Not hardly. These things can be, in the wrong hands, contrivances and awfully superficial. It all lies in the mindset. We all try things to see how well they suit us. I am certainly no stranger to this. The very things or experiences I have come to find unconducive to contentment or ill suited for my personality I shrug off like old clothes. But I keep with me the memory of that which caused me pain and cherish it as much as my most fondest thoughts. I value the learning process for its gift of knowledge. A poet once stated, " Accept the seasons of your heart as you would accept the seasons of the year."
We should look not to the trappings of ideas and thought to gain understanding. Though admittedly they appeal to me quite often. These things we can all easily find in ourselves and in others around us. In the world around us. So many look to or judge the context of history's messages. It seems so few want to find the implicity or content that lies within. Be it a word. Event. An act or action. Especially in a writing. These things we take what we want out of them, some give us sweet pain, others give us longing and yet others give us hope.
Maybe the glass menagerie exists, as Tom spoke of on many occasions. But it only has reality by our own design. I have often believed that others played a strong hand in its manifestation. True, possibly, though it was I who acted on them. And only now do I see its creator in my own reflection. All my cynicism. All my apathy. All my disdain. All my foolish pride. These things I chose. This citadel of distrust and chasm of presumption, wrought by my hands. Hands and a heart that were never really meant for such fashion. Now in this hour of realization can I come down from the parapets, cross the threshold and walk this world before me...
ATH