Ends in themselves

I have spent a reasonable amount of time lying in bed this morning doing a bit of musing on stuff and generally feeling a bit sorry for myself. This situation can sometimes call for an ipod exploration. Is there anything I can listen to that will sooth my aching bones? What I ended up with was a test video of one of the days just getting into the alps during our trip. I began to feel that sensation that I often get when my mental energy is truly focused on the trip. Now, I’m fully aware of the amount of time I’ve spent going on and on about the significance of the trip to me, but the feeling I had was immediate and very powerful. I proceeded to watch a little trailer I made around a year ago. I don’t mind admitting to whoever is reading this that I was welling up at this point. It may seem a little pathetic but really thinking about that stuff sends me somewhere else, somewhere where I truly value things for what they are.

Treating people as a means to an end happens all the time in ‘real life’. Our jobs depend on those kinds of relationships to allow us to flourish both emotionally and financially. Much of the philosophy of ethics makes an attempt to teach us the exact opposite, which is admirable of course but ultimately impossible much of the time. Using people is something that has just become part of our daily lives.

That ‘exercise in the ridiculous’ that occurred last summer however, was a shining beacon of an example for treating people simply as ends in themselves. During that trip I really did feel that much closer to friends and strangers alike. It honestly felt as though nothing was a given, everything was a bonus and that made me very happy. Our inane chit chat, petty arguments and acceptance of the fact that what we were doing was essentially meaningless brought us closer together and formed a kind of relationship where it felt as though nothing could go wrong. As a result, nothing did. I do hope that my fellow road dogs had a similar experience.

The general public played a huge part in my experience too. A freebie bolt fitting from a kindly frenchman in a motorbike garage, a community of four households in rural Italy on a Sunday afternoon asking around for the correct fuse for a bike almost 30 years old or a simple toot of the horn from a Greek guy warning us that the corner we’re about to hit is full of pot holes. Not to mention the woops and hollers of every nationality, race and gender in support of these three idiotic brits on pizza bikes. These things make me insanely happy. If nothing more significant happens in my life I may start to regale this blog with these stories, because they make me love things.

What a stupid and life affirming thing.