Back in 2011, I wrote with some alarm about polarization. It was a year of federal election. My wife Betsey and I put up both an NDP and a CHP sign in our yard, for candidates who were both men of integrity and conviction. We added two home-made signs: “think” and “vote”. Things are even…
The word round can suggest futility, but it can also describe a continuous loop, year after year of opportunities to serve and to observe, to grow food and to eat food, to speak loudly and to meditate in silence, to labour and to stand in awe.
The sociologist Max Weber discovered that real leaders (those whom inspire others to follow) must possess a blend of uncommon personal traits and learned behaviours. He singled out the traits of charisma (enthusiasm and empathy) and expertise (specific knowledge and masterful communication skill).
So, what are things? Isn’t it strange how hard it is to define such a common word as “things”? I mean, things are . . . well, just things. Like everything is a thing. Rocks are things, trees are things, planets are things, families are things, governments are things, essays are things, poems are things, theories are things, universities are things and people are things (though not just any old things).
The rain is like hundreds of bare feet on the roof of our tent trailer and it’s 8:30 in the morning, the dirt ground pooling outside, the windows crying. The air is thick with storm and mosquitos, and it’s our second day camping with my family in Whiteshell Provincial Park (MB).
As theatregoers were still finding their seats, a number of raggedy individuals in haphazard clothes milled about on stage. They engaged in mimed conversation. Some interactions were friendly and some were menacing. The audience settled down quickly, intrigued and puzzled.