Many things are arbitrary. Only recently for example I discovered to my initial displeasure that a pair of Oliver Peoples spectacles I had purchased at a local optometrist’s boutique were described on the manufacturer’s web site as for “Women”.  Seriously?  How did they decide that?

(Ezelle) inspired by the original metal OP-4, the distinctive curves and glass lenses of this feminine sunglass offers a progressive, polished look.

I wrote to the “Concierge” on the manufacturer’s web site enquiring about the designation (and also to confirm where the frames were made in light of their noble proclamation of being a Californian company).  Below is the reply I received.

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What propels people is the same thing as a computer – a combination of software and hardware.  I liken the software to our brains which are capable of two kinds of gymnastics – intellectual and spiritual (the real and the unreal). The hardware, like the case that surrounds the computer, is the stuff that surrounds each of us – people and things (the real and the unreal).  Each of these four elements – intellectual, spiritual, people and things – routinely interact to create the world in which we live, a world which on one level is the same planet for everyone but which on another level is an immensely diverse experience. The software and hardware of our respective lives define us.

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It is fatuous to pretend we haven’t been brainwashed. Years of reading the same stuff and listening to the same people leads to indoctrination and does little to engender hesitation about the truth as we already know or believe it. We may occasionally stumble upon an event which momentarily at least precipitates an epiphany but it isn’t long before we lapse into conformity. The narrowness of our thinking is predicted by the routine of our experience. As necessity is the mother of invention, there is no more need to change unless we must. By contrast living in a state of perpetual doubt and analysis is not the norm. It is so much easier not to have to adjust to new or different external indicia. Seeing the world clothed in the same fabric, colour and spirituality is by far more convenient.

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Have you ever lost track of someone you once liked? And wished you could reconnect? There are certain people whose favourable memory I wistfully recall but whose fate is regrettably unknown to me. One chap – whom I’ll call Rutledge – intrigues me in particular. I’ve even tried to find out from other mutual colleagues what happened to him but no one seems to know.  In fact I may know more about him than others do. The only comment which surfaced during my investigations was a concise but pointed observation by a mutual friend and former colleague at undergraduate university:

“He had all the characteristics of a good-looking loner who played by his own rules. The stuff that young ladies swoon for. I did not know of the connection with Elliott but would have assumed that there was a connection through the private school clique.“

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Seldom is it a challenge to make the case for patience. Patience has an almost heavenly nuance captured in that well-known adage, “Patience is a virtue“. But like other sublime conditions it is not one to which I naturally aspire and it most certainly isn’t one I regularly practice. I can’t say that I have anything against patience – I willingly acknowledge its reasonableness – but it frequently constitutes nothing but an obstruction in my life.  I am constantly being told – or reminding myself – that I haven’t any which of course is ludicrous, I just resent having to exercise the talent except when pushed to do so.

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As shameful as it may resonate I can’t think of much that is irreplaceable. In fact I pride myself on having let go of about 90% of what I spent a lifetime acquiring – and having subsequently swapped it quite happily for something else. Once I resolved to retire I posited it wisest to down-size in a major way. As my late father frequently observed, “You can’t have money and things”. It is possible to assert that what I had was not worth keeping; but even if that were true – which I contend it is not – the remark doesn’t contaminate the thesis that there is always something else to fill the gap. And guess what, I found a substitute.  No trouble.

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When I was studying law at Dalhousie University in Halifax, NS between 1970 – 1973 I attended a lecture about comparative law.

Comparative law is the study of differences and similarities between the law of different countries. More specifically, it involves study of the different legal “systems” (or “families”) in existence in the world, including the common law, the civil law, socialist law, Canon law, Jewish Law, Islamic law, Hindu law, and Chinese law. It includes the description and analysis of foreign legal systems, even where no explicit comparison is undertaken.

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I have never considered myself especially anticipatory. It would for example attach unwarranted credit to my forward-thinking skills to suggest I ever really knew what I would be doing 10 years hence. Likewise it is strictly charitable to suggest I was being cautious. I don’t think I even thought about the future much beyond the end of my nose. I just did what had to be done from day to day and let the rest take care of itself.  This isn’t to say I was completely mindless but rather that I responded to appetites more than apparitions.  Mine was a visceral existence.

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Getting out of bed after nine o’clock in the morning normally appals me. It’s frankly repugnant to my instinctive work ethic cultivated over years of study and employment. But now no longer learning or working I have the privilege to submit to the urge to sleep whenever it strikes. Shamelessly I do so. Restoration is good. Besides it’s not as though I’m going to be late for a meeting!

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It has to be the supreme conciliation of life’s struggle that one finally succumbs to living it as one should, that is in accordance with one’s better judgement. While it sounds to be a small compliment it is in fact a cosmic accomplishment. Until recently I cannot recall a moment when I didn’t feel that my conduct and thoughts were to a degree at least constrained by independent authority. To abandon that imposition requires not only the effluxion of time but also concentration and commitment. Living one’s private vernacular is serious business. Naturally I have always attempted to work my way around the problem but it is only lately that both the means and the end have united to promote personal expression.

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