Something beautiful in tradition

I've been in two different directions as regards tradition and its value in life.

On the one hand, while studying philosophy I had to put tradition on a level that admitted its distinctness from Truth proper (it might give us hints, but it itself is not Truth). On the other, I am from a mobile family that has spent much time overseas and traveled widely. This was followed by my tour with the Peace Corps and the experience that brings with new cultural traditions.

One part of my worldview distrusts tradition as a perpetrator of illusion and an obstacle to clear understanding of the universe; the other is fascinated by and is in awe of the various methods of human expression that have arisen throughout time and geography.

As an adolescent who took that role quite seriously, I dutifully let this dichotomy exist in my mind and argued the more impressive position when the situation called.

What brings this up now is that since Thanksgiving I have been playing Christmas music on repeat at home. This is the same music I just to roll my eyes at and give my dad a hard time for just five years ago. This is the same music that my parents grew up on, the same music that my grandparents weathered a war on, the same music that folks I never met in an era I never saw loved and continued my prestigious family name with (nothing like a good carol to get the reproductive juices flowing). Songs very much like these have their roots deep in my very heavily European line.

To be honest, not all these songs are very good. Some of the things Ella Fitzgerald does with her voice and pronunciation distract me from actually feeling the music. It's annoying. There's no accounting for taste, right? But that's not really the point. It brings me back to Christmas' across the US and across the world. It brings me back to Christmas' with grandparents past and it connects me to those I never had the chance to annoy by digging holes in their lawn.

It seems me that very few people can stand in a place of great age and not be struck at once both by how transient they are but also how connected they are in that one moment to a wealth of generations past. Who could gaze upon the foundations of ancient Rome in indifference? Our traditions are living manifestations of these foundations and our partaking in them a recognition of our unity with all other souls who throughout history have struggled against the conditions of existence.

The fact remains that when searching for capital 't' Truth one cannot look to tradition as the authority; precedence does not establish accuracy. This is not the point, though. From crappy Christmas songs to fruitcake to mistletoe placed in strategic locations, there is something beautiful in our silly traditions.