Reveling in Dimness

Window light illuminated this gymnasium during an afternoon.

   Do we crave exposure to natural light? 
   When the weather is inclement, I visit a public gymnasium. My arrival triggers a motion detector. Fluorescent lights activate. For exercise, I walk round and round a basketball court.
   Last week the fluorescents didn't turn on right away. I relied on window light.
   I preferred the window light. It created a more relaxing ambiance. I reveled in dimness.
   By design, do our bodies prefer natural light?
   Natural light dances across floors and walls. It brightens and dims. It responds to the rotation of the earth. Our circadian rhythms are tuned into this light show.

Fluorescent lights came on later.

   Artificial lights--fluorescent, LCD's, and others, don't shift around. Nor do they vary in output.  They're consistency disrupts our circadian rhythms.
   Taking a walk. Driving a car. Sitting near a window. Might several minutes per day of exposure to natural light, without competition from other lighting, improve our well being?
   Call it an optical vitamin.

Are Talented Artists Few in Numbers?

 
   This statue rubs me the wrong way.
   It depicts the ascension of Jesus to Heaven. His face is intriguing. The body language is effective. What disturbs me is the body itself. It's effeminate.
   I will admit that the statue is evocative. Lots of people will view it with high regard. It's located on the grounds of a Catholic retreat house in New England. (I took the photo early this month).
   Art is subjective. We've all heard that expression. It implies that quality is in the eye of the beholder. I'm skeptical about that outlook.
   Subjectivity can not defend mediocrity. Most art being created is mediocre. Only a small percentage of artwork is evocative (like that statue).
   Does this assertion represent cultural snobbery?
   Nope.
   I am searching online for a freelance artist. This person will be hired to illustrate the cover of a novel I'm writing. So far I've scrolled through hundreds of portfolios. Some of them appear at websites featuring dozens of artists.
    Most of the artwork I've reviewed is boring. There's a sameness to it.
   Only a minority--a slim minority--of artists grabbed my attention. It's no coincidence that they received the most compliments by visitors to those websites.Their artwork was superior.
   Each generation, only a few artists in the world create masterpieces that resonate with masses of people. Their artwork is celebrated long after they die. Why are these elite artists so few in numbers? Did God create it that way?

Wither or Blossom?

   

   Five feet of snow buried these daffodil stems.
   A week later, after much snow melting, they're back. One stem is bent; it might not survive. The rest should bloom in March.
   Human beings are like those daffodils. They experience disappointments and hard knocks.
   Some people can't hack this pressure. Their outlooks wither. They don't contribute anything worthwhile to the progress of mankind. The sum of their lives are mere statistics--a birth record, a citizenship identification number, and a death record.
   Other people carry on through suffering. Their lives contribute to humanity. Like most daffodil stems that crack the soil, these people blossom.

Where Have All The Snowmen Gone?

  

   A suburban winter wonderland. Eighteen miles of driving. One snowman observed.
   Huh? Just one?
   Snowmen used to appear on front yards all over the place. Carrots became noses. Buttons substituted for eyes. Children love that stuff.
   Nowadays, kids don't play outside as much during winter. I suspect they're sitting--or better said, vegetating--in front of televisions, computers, and tablets. The same goes for their parents. As a result of this lethargy, few snowmen are being created.
   What a shame.
   Are snowmen barometers of social ties within towns?
   I'd bet that neighbors are better acquainted where snowmen are commonplace. That's because building snowmen is an outdoor activity. Conversely, social isolation might be greater in neighborhoods where snowmen aren't seen.
   I grabbed my camera and drove back to that lone snowman. Wouldn't you know it, he'd been knocked over. Probably mischievous behavior by children. 
   At least the kids were outside and playing together.

Daffodils at Risk?

Hours before blizzard.

   They should have waited.
   Daffodils are sprouting beside my driveway. These harbingers of spring usually emerge later in winter.
   A blizzard called Nemo, more brutish than most, hammered this community.
   These sprouts endured a double whammy of abuse. First, a massive downpour of snow buried them. Next, snow shoveled off the driveway further entombed them. 
   What will become of these Daffodil preemies? Will they succumb to the elements? Or will they keep growing, poke through melting snow, and blossom into yellow petals?
   I'll report later on their fate.

Daffodil sprouts buried after blizzard.

Where are People Always Friendly?

   Several years ago I thru hiked the Appalachian Trail. Some hikers struck me as especially friendly. A few of them were best avoided.
   While traveling abroad I've slept in hostels. Lots of friendly guests were encountered. The most affable guests hailed from Ireland, Australia, and the United States. Some guests were irritable.
   Social events hosted by churches are the only gatherings were almost everyone is friendly.
   I was reminded of this assumption last week. My Catholic parish held a 30th birthday party for it's organist and musical director (He's the person speaking in the photo).
   It happened on a Saturday night. The setting was an American Legion Post. No liquor. Nothing fancy. Fellowship and happiness marked the occasion.
   I've attended church socials at other religious denominations. The outpourings of warmth were equivalent.
   Participating in a church social is like swallowing a friendliness pill.