The influence of gaslight or electric light on the growth of paraheliotropic trees

In this poor body, composed of one hundred bones and nine openings, is something called spirit, a flimsy curtain swept this way and that by the slightest breeze. It is spirit, such as it is, which led me to poetry, at first little more than a pastime, then the full business of my life. There have been times when spirit, so dejected, almost gave up the quest, other times when it was proud, triumphant.  So it has been from the very start, never finding peace with itself, always doubting the worth of what it makes  . . . All who achieve greatness in art — Saigyo in traditional poetry, Sogi in linked verse, Sesshu in painting, Rikyu in tea ceremony — possess one thing in common: they are one with nature.

— Basho, Records of a Travel-Worn Satchel

When I was a child, the protagonist of Sesame Street was Big Bird. Given that viewers enter a world through the person of the protagonist, it was both clever, profound, and powerful that we children were told that what we really were was a nice, large, awkward bird with bright yellow feathers. Echoing somewhat our own  fierce brightness of soul and alienation from the Adult World.

Though I have not watched Sesame Street lately, it seems that the role of protagonist has at least partially shifted to the character of Elmo, who is more outwardly congruent with the notion of being a child, wanting to have fun, and being taught such. While this shift can only be explained because of the deep fascination real children had with that character, an alienation effect is lost where our strange uncanniness was shown to us through the strangeness that was Big Bird.

What’s lost is the celebration of diversity. What we get instead is the continuing conforming effect of our society that tells us that kids are kids, adults are adults, and we are all expected, foreseen, and fully predictable.