Forever I have been taken by the adage, “What’s bred in the bone will out in the flesh”, something I recall having read years ago in a book by celebrated Canadian author Robertson Davies. The precept has today assumed what is likely an unintended meaning; namely, that extracting significance from anything requires more than a superficial or cursory examination. In the context of daily activity – the majority of which is admittedly mundane – the analysis, if it is to produce nourishment, involves an element of dissection and foraging. Every incident of life is, I am convinced, fraught with deeper meaning. But one must dig around for it. We’re not merely staring at a glass globe of synthetic manufacture.

As appealing as that transformative way of thinking may sound, its mandate did not awaken entirely from a purely inquisitive intellectual nature. The blunt truth is that I am now demonstrably limited in my personal motion (that is, apart from driving my car).  Accordingly I have had to face reality. Basically I have a desk job. Perhaps because I have been glued to a desk most of my life, I do not regard the scenario as a complete or uninspiring limitation.  Certainly I miss long distance cycling – especially on the beach on Hilton Head Island – but I am content at 76 years of age to tricycle about the neighbourhood. Just as I am now willing to remain in Canada throughout the winter.  No longer do I imagine that having to look up a snow squalled river or across a  snow covered field is an inhibition. My immobility enables an ideal synthesis with the flow.

By utter serendipity this afternoon we became better acquainted with a neighbour of ours. The unwitting acquaintance has revealed – with moderate devotion to examination – a volume of interesting tales.  The superfluity and surprise of today’s social encounter (she delivered a bag of privately grown garlic bulbs) was her account of her “previous life” in a cabin on 300 acres of land in the country, “off the grid”. Because her visit was unplanned I have no recollection of when exactly she knocked upon our door; but – judging by the current late hour in the afternoon – I would think we spent over 2 hours together. We touched upon details of life for all of us.  It was a highly communicative foregathering; and, importantly, unrestrained by practiced manners (which I’ve always been taught are only necessary when the going gets tough). In this particular case, none of us had to maintain balance or direction in our informative expedition of story telling. Unmoored, we were fully at sea and subject to the changing tides and winds of charm.

The conclusion of our confab today was that it is important to make an effort, to leave the past in its place, to change the avenues of discovery. It is naturally no accident that the thread of this entry began early this morning while I lounged on the balcony in the sunshine. Everyone of us is embraced by the identical need to accommodate change and to seek initiative from what surrounds us. It is nothing but an admission of defeat to fail to do so. I punctuate this generality by stating very clearly that I view this “domestic” shift in my perspective to be an inviting one as well as necessary. There is no denying the universally agreed truth that we, the residents of this apartment building, enjoy a magnificent view with the company of some lovely people.