Sunday, December 05, 2021

Seaglass Culture


How do we fix a broken society?
 

Many years ago, I gathered seaglass from beaches around the Bay Area and got pretty good at recognizing the best tides for finding it.

One section of Ocean Beach just south of San Francisco yielded a steady harvest of the blue, green, brown and white gems, and there was another nice spot on one edge of Angel Island.

What I loved about seaglass was that it had been smoothed and polished by the waves, sand, sun — transformed into jewels from what had once been simple trash.

You could say that that is the way of all garbage, indeed of all life. After all, the sum total of all of our ancestors, all other organic life forms, and “civilization” is a few inches of compacted topsoil clinging to a hard rock of a planet hurtling and twisting its way through space.

Destination unknown. 

We’re all on the trip together, despite our various shapes, colors, orientations and other distinctions. As much as we see ourselves as individuals, we also are part of a much bigger unit. Our rough places will get smoothed over by time, whether we like that or not.

And much like seaglass, what’s left of each individual will have its own integrity, its own unique ability to reflect the sun when you hold it up to the light.

That could have added up to something nice.

But for now, the pandemic has helped to shatter us into jagged shards of glass, all too good at cutting each other rather than coming together. We’ve broken into tribes of one; even families have shattered. We are like a thousand rough pieces right now than any kind of beautiful whole. 

Acts of random cruelty outnumber acts of kindness. Extremes dominate. Hate is on the loose. Killers are on the road. Isolation rules. Collectivity is disparaged. There is no common square to be found, only acres and acres of silence.

As a result, there can be no beautiful whole. 

Isn’t that a pity?

MONDAY’S HEADLINES:

  • How to Care Less About Work — As we peer around the corner of the pandemic, let’s talk about what we want to do—and not do—with the rest of our lives. (Atlantic)

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