The Book Of Awesome has acted as a catalyst for a new social trend; leading not towards the traditional, the finer things in life, but in fact the very opposite: the simple. While at first this seems an excellent movement, grass roots in nature, I do believe it is in fact tragic. There's nothing wrong with small pleasures: seeing the bus turn the corner towards you on the coldest day of the year, correctly guessing which pocket your keys are in on the first try, finding the remote, etc, but I hate the thought of what this could mean for society. Instead of a society appreciative of all things, large and small, we are in fact moving towards a society that expects little more of itself than small pleasures; too simple minded and simply pleased to really appreciate the finer things in life.
Today, I received an invitation to a party, as well as an invitation to enjoy the company of an old friend over a Starbucks. I say this not to inform you of my raging popularity, but to segue into the tale of what I actually did with my day. After a quick cup of tea with the most lovely people in the world, my mother and I made our way, very slowly, to Hamilton, where we endured our final uniform shopping trip of my high school career and laid on probably close to 20 matresses before finally choosing one for my soon to be refurbished bedroom. Two Tim's stops and a trip to the grocery store later, we were home to make my favourite food in the entire world: French onion soup. We made our soup, enjoyed our soup, and now find ourselves sponging our way through an evening of laughhter and vintage sci-fi flicks. While at first this day may seem a large collection of simple glories, we must remember perspective. Instead of following the oh so recent cultural norm of looking to the small glory, we must remember to evaluate as a whole: a brilliantly busy day with my mother that turned out to be an incredible gift. It's all about the big picture.
In the same manner, I have begun to evaluate the concept of "quality time". I have friends who seem to have the wise idea that quality time can happen in an instant and continue as long as one wishes, which in fact is not true. I have come to understand that quality time does not come into being without it's necessary predecessor: quantity time. It requires years of attempt and incredible persistent to get to a place where ten minutes can become quality time. One does not exist without the other, just as simple joys should not exist without the finer things in life and the trials of life serving as their experiential ancestors. Does that not make a bit of sense?
I'm not trying to say that there isn't a place for the shiner beacon of hope that is the city bus on a cold winters day, or suddenly remembering where you left that other shoe, but I do believe we need to remember the big picture: where is it that the bus is going? Aren't you glad you bought those shoes in the first place? The fantastic day that is built from an hour over a pot of onions, a sci-fi flick, and what seemed to be endless shopping. Big picture people, big picture.
