Michaelmas Daisies, G.K., and the Thrill of Monotony

Whatever happened to Michaelmas Daisies? I'm not sure, but I think that they are asters. Whether that is an old fashioned name for all asters or just for a particular variety, I can't say.

When I was a child, Michaelmas Daisies were a common feature of the gardens I knew. They were a delicate purple flower that bloomed in September and October. How nice it was that when everything else was fading, they were just coming into their own. They remind me of the passage in Ecclesiastes about there being a season for everything.

Several years ago, I bought a plant labeled 'Aster', but it bloomed in June and never came back! Can't have been the real thing. I'm going to have to take a drive around town and see if I can't spy some.

Last Sunday evening I saw a man portraying G.K. Chesterton. He quoted him about life being a 'dance' and not a 'race'. The dance stands for order - rhythmic and recurring action around a central thing whereby balance is kept. God built this balance and rhythm in nature - the days, the seasons, and the stars.

The 'dance' ruled in society and private life until 'the cult of progress' took hold in the last century. It was a new goofy idea in Chesterton's day, but a way of life now. "New is always better than old", "We must leave the past behind us" are two of the progressivists credos. Doing the 'same old thing' is truly a horror. It's just as bad as having the 'same old tired ideas'. "Change is what we need!" And finally, "God is Dead!" But the problem is, the progressivists have no clear goals for the race they propose. So, here we are, personally and collectively rushing toward unknown or undefined goals (healthcare is one of the latest) and all the world is thrown off balance by it. But if nothing else, progressivists say, "the race is more exciting than the dance!" Is it?

Let's ask G.K.:

"Because children have unbounding vitality, because they are fierce and free, they therefore want things repeated and unchanged. They often say, "Do it again", and the grown up person does it again till he is nearly dead. For grown up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps, God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again" to the sun; and every evening, "Do it again" to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes each daisy separately, but never got tired of making them. It may be that he has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we."