Of owning ice

Went ice skating the other day… drove to the winter sports park, strolled into the lodge, and sat down at a table next to the fireplace to strap in. Power-moms and pubescent teenagers alike shot me curious questioning glances. I tied the skates tight, pushed my way past a group of children, and tromped off towards the ice. The rink was a large simple rectangle, peppered with children and the occasional parental figure, and although I felt fine I imagine I may have appeared a bit unusual skating around by myself. As I neared the ice I passed a young boy who made a face at me to boost his status among his peers, so I grabbed the hat off his head without word or expression and tossed it into a nearby snow bank, hoping one of the power-moms would attempt to scold me for picking on their child, but it was not to be… I then stood before the ice, cleared my mind, and prepared to embark. My first steps were quite careful and focused, though the foreign sensation of gliding along on tiny metal rails strapped to my feet was a bit unnerving. Ever so slowly, and with great care, I began expanding my control over the ice through subtle trial and error gestures, never once leaving room for the error to result in completely falling on my face (as I am, contrary to a lot of my behavior, averse to pain). I first tested the limits of stride; then the limits of turning; then speed; and eventually the limits of hockey-stopping, until I was racing around the rink as comfortably as if I were jogging around a park. Having reclaimed ownership over the ice, and the act of skating, I accepted my accomplishment and left the children and their corresponding power-moms to their own obnoxious devices.

I find it interesting, the roles we favor in regards to systems. It’s often the generic system of life (arguably the largest perceivable system available to us) that is dwelled on most often. Too frequently life is trivialized, or mistaken for a smaller system. This tends to result in a general nullification of interest towards any other sub-system within, or at least a nullification of significance for such. I myself find the system of life much too large and overwhelming to attempt to grasp with any certainty, and merely cast my piece in that system as little more than a single atom somewhere within a dust particle, clinging to a piece of sand, floating in a tide puddle, next to the pacific ocean. By forsaking the pertinence of life, I forfeit not only common ambitions, but also the insignificance of smaller systems. It allows me to extract unprecedented sadistic pleasure and fascination from any system who’s size can be completely comprehensible to me, and who’s nature is one that I seek to possess.