Straight Lines and Right Angles

For many years now I have waged a war against conformity. I do not seek nor do I wish for anarchy. I am not anti-establishment for the sake of being anti-establishment. If anything I desire to avoid conformity only upon reaching the conclusion that the only good reason to conform in some matter is to join others who have already conformed.  If the sole benefit is being numbered among the masses, I'm not interested.

I would prefer and actively seek to be a person who thinks outside the box. It sounds easy enough. It is not.

I am not referring to some simple adolescent battle with peer pressure here. What I battle is far more hideous. It is often subconscious.  It is second nature. It is somehow deeply imbedded in my soul and seeks to destroy my uniqueness. It wants to obliterate any abstract thought. Rather it rewards an ordered life and lifestyle with a pseudo-peace and a pseudo-comfort that come from making straight lines and right angles. Curves are out of the question.

I hate the drive from Dodgeville to Madison on Highway 151. There are no curves. It's flat and it's straight and it's boring. Two or three miles to the north are some of the most beautiful hills and prettiest country roads that you'd ever want to see. Knowing this makes the 151 journey all the more miserable. Yet the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. So I bow to the wisdom of the highway planners and take a road well traveled.

The woods are one of my favorite places to be on all the earth. Put me in a couple of acres of trees that reach well above my head and I am at home. It is nearly impossible to walk a straight line in the woods. I like this.

I noticed some time ago that forests planted by humans are different than the natural variety. Regardless of the age of the forest, you can usually find rows. Nice, straight, orderly rows. It's as if we human beings are incapable of duplicating natural beauty.  We can't even get close.  We reject abstract design and surrender to an overwhelming need to add straight lines and right angles.

The other day I took a break from tree cutting and bush trimming. Physically exhausted I looked for something good to read while my aging muscles recovered. I settled on E. B. White's, “One Man's Meat.” It is a collection of his essays that I picked up last week at the Spring Green library.

In the section entitled, “Removal,” I came upon these lines: “This life I lead, setting pictures straight, squaring rugs up with the room- it suggests an ultimate symmetry toward which I strive and strain.” In his ongoing struggle to bring straight lines and right angles to his world he concludes that it, “satisfies something fundamental in me, and if, fifteen minutes later on my way back, I find that the rug is again out of line, I repeat the performance with no surprise and no temper.”

I immediately thought of the bushes that I had just pruned. They had been placed near the edge of our yard by the previous owners. They had been planted in a straight line. They had looked more like small trees rather than bushes. They had grown so tall that they were now blocking precious sunlight needed by the cherry trees that I had planted near them. So I attacked them with my Stihl chainsaw and my hand trimmers.

As I read E. B. White's words I was struck by the fact that I had once again failed to battle that fundamental weakness within me that seeks, “an ultimate symmetry.” I chopped the tops of the bushes to an even height. I pruned their branches to make straight lines. I made right angles at the ends. Never did I entertain an abstract thought regarding their appearance. Not once did I consider allowing each bush to retain its own identity. I forgot all about curves and I felt ashamed. And then I laughed.

The battle had been lost and once again I had failed to realize that I was at war. I took a photo of my handiwork. It's there, and now here, to remind me of my shortcomings. As Frost put it, “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by.” Hopefully I will do better with the lilacs.