Close For Comfort

Continuity. A vast river which, while unceasing in its flow, exists indefinitely as geography does; constantly in motion, and yet never moving, an entity which embodies all of what was, is, and is to come. But before blue hippie aliens start to rejoice in what appears to be some form of new-age neo-pagan eco-worship, let us shelve such titanic thoughts for later reference--this is but the tip of today's iceberg.

Every day, a PC user somewhere contemplates the meaning of life. Whilst doing so, he also contemplates whether he should really be using a Mac instead. His likely subsequent decision to remain of the Windows persuasion could probably be attributed less to his aversion to fruit (and perhaps, original sin), and more to his idiosyncratic resistance to change. Yet, let us hesitate to condemn this PC user to the luddite pile. Instead, let us celebrate his sterling defence of consistency, for much comfort can be found in consistency.

After all, some form of pleasure could be derived from the knowledge that you can head home every day to a house that actually doesn't look like it had been thrown into a geological blender while you were out. In a similar manner, the toddler carts around his favourite soft toy wherever he goes--a piece of portable stability if you will--for the child knows that while the people around him have moods which can swing to any colour of the spectrum, he has his teddy. A physical, holdable, huggable reminder that amidst a world of newness, randomness and chaos, some things don't change.

As we grow older however, we'd also like to imagine that we have, in some way or another, grown more sophisticated. (As quirky as you might think it be to bring teddy along for your board room meetings, your bosses might not quite appreciate that comedic character allusion which you'd thought yourself rather original for) And what could possibly get more sophisticated than abstract ideas! Ideas and concepts such as the bulwark of Tradition float up, like wisps of smoke curling away from sticks of incense lit for the elders.

It is in the stage of Tradition's conception that we find beliefs, superstitions, habits, and practices--tiny individual actions which, when operating in tandem, create an immutable, timeless form.

Tradition provides an easy fall-back, a common ground for the masses to agree on. If something has been so, it must have had its reasons for being so, and thus should continue to stay as such.

No doubt, one could say that the Shepherdsons and Grangerfords were foolish in their feudalistic struggles, but we are equally led to realize the bond that each of these families shared within their clans, and the sense of internal stability that it brought. A state of being at peace with going to war perhaps. (Oh, the irony!) And yet, in this irony lies a testament to the grounding effect of Tradition--the overwhelming calm that comes with being anchored to an idea as the world gets tossed about the storms of reality.

Is it any wonder then that we so earnestly seek consistency and the continuity that it creates? One who is able to hold his ground and maintain his state of mind as the squall rages is deemed to possess a certain amount of control. You might not be able to harness the storm, but as long as you have your constants, you are safe. You might grow taller, you might grow older, your house might shift, your friends might change; but your teddy is your teddy, and that fact never will change. That shiny red packet will always pocket dollar notes, and that pine tree will always bear the fruit of gifts.

Like kids on a carousel we carefully pick our mounts, as we await the ride of our lives. The machinery kicks in, and we lurch forward. Our world begins to spin, slowly, at first, then gradually picks up in pace. Soon all will be a blur, as lights flash and faces whiz by. Confident of our steeds we whoop and yell.

On and on we go, galloping powerfully in inevitable circles

Constantly in motion, and yet never moving