Every year, at the coldest time of the year, our furnace goes out. I’ve written about it before, I’m writing about it now, and I’m sure I’ll write about it again. Benjamin Franklin said, “In this world, nothing is certain except death and taxes.” I say, “In this world, nothing is certain except winter — and our furnace breaking.”
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about modernity: not just as an era, but as a way of life, and as a particular relationship we have with technology and the natural world. Winter has a way of provoking those thoughts. It’s unforgiving outside and warm inside, and that contrast shapes not only our environment but our state of mind. Winter invites introspection whether we ask for it
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