The World is Too Much With Us
I'm sorry for my silence lately. There's been a lot swirling around inside my head and much to keep me distracted from writing. I'm still trying to make sense of my thoughts but maybe the first step is voicing them. I've been reconsidering the direction of this blog. I've expressed my love of design and history here, but I'm not sure I've done a good job of putting it in context with my values.
The clothes shopping hiatus I put myself on a couple of months ago has really had a profound effect on me. I'm torn between wanting to express (and ultimately possess) the aethstetic beauty of Things and wanting to encourage people to buy less, to not over-consume. I worry that my appreciation complete with link to where to buy said pretty object is just more advertising. Not really what the world needs, is it?
It's hard to be a North American and not be a consumer. I've tried my best to be a fairly green one. I've been taking my bags to the store long before it was the the thing to do. I buy organic and local. Even owned a small organic food shop at one stage of my life. But I was still a shopper (and secretly would still love to be).
These days I shop less and produce more. I grow a lot of my own veggies in the summer, I sew, I compost, refinish and repurpose. I think these actions put my life in line with some of the things I love so much about earlier times... the idea of making instead of buying. The pride of creating the thing you need and wanting exactly what it is you already have.
I need to put this out there more... I need to write about not just vintage-inspired STUFF but how perhaps by looking back we can move forward. I will talk about pretty things sometimes but I will also talk about ideas, meaning and simple pleasures.
How about some poetry if you're still with me? William Wordsworth sounds like he was struggling with this very thing back in 1806. Poor fella.
"THE world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn."