It is impossible to transmit, in words or any other medium, that which is at the central core of one’s being. In seeking to understand the humans with which we share a planet, town, bed, we attempt to feel their desires, their rhythms, their essences, but this exercise can only go so far because we cannot truly inhabit that person. Shared experiences bring us closer, unite us in similar ecstasies — to share a powder day with someone is to peek into their soul — but there remains a lack of perfect empathy.
Art, visual or written, can provide clarity, music broadcasts certain truths, impressions are given, yet a gap remains. Between members of two groups that are geographically adjacent, but ideologically distant, this chasm of understanding is magnified — it’s hard to even comprehend the motivations and morals of the other tribe. I am certain that the look of bewilderment that befalls me when I see people in furs vamping for Instagram is mirrored in their view of those dirtbags walking in worn technical gear or the old-timers rocking jeans and Western wear.
Bemusement and disdain can often follow bewilderment, driven by the predisposition to dislike that which we do not know. Thereafter, the seeds of separation and discord can grow unabated, creating “others” when there is no such thing, except that everyone is another. I may not get what drives someone to wear a crystal-plated helmet skiing on Little Eagle, but that would not excuse my derision of the same perso.
