Monday, October 10, 2011


I had a lovely dinner and conversation and walk with my friend last night, and she affirmed the thoughts I've been recognizing for a few days now about her generation and mine. I know I may sound terribly whiny. I am jealous of a generation that seems to have had a good run of it, that started with a grounding in nature and real-person socialization, and then witnessed and participated in the technology onslaught and redefinition of our lives, and even had some faith in our leaders. Mostly, I'm jealous that they get to die before things get really, really bad. It seems like our species is rapidly regressing and I miss being around people who enjoy walking outside (and I don't mean on pavement or through urban jungles) or exchanging thoughts about books they are reading or have just read, since they always read books (real books that reflect, not project, light). And the funny thing is that I don't know how I turned out this way: I grew up so removed from nature, or at least the wilderness, and am still squirmish about a lot of it. I realized this morning that it all changed once I started traveling on artist residencies. I'm grateful for the chance to have seen so many different landscapes in so many disparate locations, and for the good fortune to have been taken out of the rat races in cities. You can't know until you know.

1 comment:

  1. that cliff is so big, and, aimee, i remember feeling like i was born too late, too. why is that?


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