A History of Civilisation; Yeah... Ofcourse it is

Today I attended my first lecture in History of Civilization, which I was supposed to take in first year but I would have rather shot myself, figuratively at least, than sit through that. Unfortunately I could not avoid it any longer so I walked into the class after my Italian class had ended, that was an event on its own but alas that's a story for another day. I walk in and take my seat in the third quarter, which is the ideal location, too far for the lecturer to read my face when I lose interest but not near the guys who have no interest in being there. A man walks in twenty minutes before the class is scheduled to start and walks slowly past where I was so I say hi; what can I say, I'm nice. He says hi and walks to he front, turns out that the man is the lecturer.

I won't get into a discussion of the other students because the lecturer was more intriguing. One of the first assumptions about a man who lectures on history is that he would be an atheist so when the man said he was an atheist I wasn't exactly shocked. It made him a little more interesting. He mentioned how history tends to be written by the winners but in our class we would try to look at all bits of information and question everything, within reason and time frame of course. I was in. He also mentioned how he would like us to be involved in the discussion which for me; a combative Christian was like Christmas coming early. Lastly he mentioned how he would not give us notes until after the exemption exam. I add this because in my entire time at CIU he gave the best reason for this. He said "you writing the exemption is you trying to prove to the university that you know the contents of this course and don't need to attend it, so why should I give you notes when you, those who will write the exemption exam, claim to know the contents of the course." To say the least I was impressed.

Then came the bones of contention and this my one reader, in the immortal words of Agent Smith "brings us to why we are here". I will explain the issues first then my issues with the issues next. So firstly he mentioned how human or hominidae life began in Africa. Evolution and climate change necessitated the need 'for some' to migrate from one area to another till completely evolved humans were all over the globe. He also mentioned how survival of the fittest meant weaker genes got eliminated, giving the example of zebras with genes that caused them to be slower eventually died out because they were, surprise surprise slower. Lastly he mentioned that tribes and early beings could not be referred to as Civilisation because they did not have all the things that encompass life and living e.g art, alphabet, culture, style, etc.

Issue one: Life begun in Africa + Migration 

Firstly I completely agree with the idea that history is defined by the victors/winners. And this little fact is a major part of why I disagree with this first bit. The reason for the migration was that those creatures that had begun to evolve went in search of better and more. This is a major paraphrase but the principle remains true. This kind of thinking subconsciously sends the message that those who remained were not as good or evolved, i.e Africans. If history is written by the victors, which we know it is, then history is there to benefit those who would wish to plunder "the shackled continent". After all those that remained were lesser than they that moved on in search of more and better but I will come to this more in issue three

Issue two: Weaker genes or traits dying out

What is the determinant for weaker? Or better? Is it about desirability on our part or ability to survive in harsh conditions. It can't be the former because desirability depends on trends and styles that change ergo it must be the latter. I disagree with the latter by virtue of the fact that animals that could be characterized as weaker still exist. They, for all intents and purposes, could have and should died out millennia ago. Sloths still exist. Sheep still exist. Goats still exist. Chickens still exist. SHEEP STILL EXIST. If any creature should have died out because of survival of the fittest it would be sheep. These are creatures with a male population a lot less than female which means those that actually put up a fight are less. You can't tell me that we evolved to realize the value of domesticating sheep before pretty much every canivore within a 5km radius of the sheep population wiped them out. Keep in mind the assumption is we took millennia to get that civilized. 

Issue three: Early man cannot be counted as Civilisation because they lacked certain elements to their life and living

This is just flat out insulting to Africans. The view of one people group as primitive has been a plague of the historians since the beginning of the field of study, especially since there are few historians who are natively African. Historians in the "orthodox" sense if the word. Our art, music, heritage and culture have been seen, and in a lot of areas are still seen, as primitive. This is mainly because of a failure to understand African people from an African perspective but the thing is that throughout history we have been the losers. Therefore Africa and Africans cannot help but be seen for the majority of their history as uncivilized simple because they are poorly understood. Even a lot who claim to understand end up sounding condescending. History paints Africa badly because we to a large extent have been on the losing end of world history, the his cannot be reversed or refuted. The trouble is the history of origins is excluded from this debacle and this is a huge travesty.

There are definite solutions to this. The main one for me would be scrapping such a line of thought completely but that's not what I'm here for, and it's a losing battle. I'm just talking about my day in class with a lecturer who I found very interesting and the thoughts the class provoked. Shame I might never see the man again because I have every intention of passing Friday's exemption exam. But if I do not, look forward to or dread more from my conversations with the very interesting Mr Nesip

What ever happened to the Artist in Church.. He left

For close to a while now I have been fascinated by the arts, fascinated by the variety of them and the variety of the variety. I have been fascinated by their use to express so much, sometimes more than words but with less clarity, sometimes able to express things alongside words. I have been fascinated in the use of the Arts by the East and the West to convey so much emotion; fear, anger, happiness, sadness even hatred. Such a tool deserves to be looked at more than once and I do admit at times I have concentrated more on the beauty of the art-form forgetting the creator of the art and the artist.

The thing is in this day and age if I speak of an artist you mainly think of a guy holding a pencil and a sketchbook or a pretentious guy with a barrette and a canvas or even the guy buy the street corner with bare feet who uses charcoal but produces fine work. But if I speak of the artist in a church set up the image changes to a musician rather than the guy with the pencil, why is this? Why is it that in this day and age the visual art is sort of thrown under the bus in lieu of its audio sibling.

Well this past week I came across a three part documentary by an artist I hold in high esteem called Scott Erickson. I came across Scott through a video he did with Jefferson Bethke called The Greatest Artist of All Time, Jefferson was doing his spoken word and Scott was painting. The progression of the video fascinated me, still does. You see the movement of the art work and it gives an extra dimension, if you will, to the words. I immediately, through the power of social media begun to follow Scott Erickson and I have not been disappointed. I was even happier to see the short documentary on art in the church because I had been thinking along the same lines.

I will not try to add to the documentary but I will plug the videos below so you can see them for yourself. It adds up to about 15 minutes worth of watching time so you can enjoy them all at once as you eat any of your meals. I would like to set up a few premises before I speak my peace. Firstly, to a large extent I am speaking of the use of visual arts in the Reformed Baptist Circles, as I can only speak of its use in a forum I know well. Secondly I do not see the use of visual arts in and of themselves to be the way forward, they are one colour on the pallet that is used to paint God’s love and grace to the non-believer, I wrote more on this here. And thirdly, this is a topic that requires much discussion into the means of use of visual art.

If you have ever set eyes on good art work then you know of its effect. One of the great paintings of minimalism is The Black Square by Kasimir Malevich, it is a very simple painting at first sight but once you know about the circumstances surrounding the painting it gains a whole other dimension. There is so much that can be done in terms of instruction and communication of biblical truths through the medium of paintings, in fact early church artisans used visual arts as a way to communicate biblical truths to a largely illiterate people. They saw the need for it and used their God given gifts to explain and express such things.

Such expression was seen in paintings in and around the church, stained glass windows and in some rare but popular examples the buildings themselves were used to express these things and they were appreciated greatly. The appreciation came from the ability of art to reach us and communicate to us extra value that in some senses words cannot. Back then a statue of Abraham walking with Isaac up the mountain would express visually the words that had been heard and a statue done right would show little things that would provoke the mind to thought. The expression on Abrahams face as they went up, the age of Isaac etc.

Fast forward it to this day and age and it could be argued that there is no need for such expression but then again the type of need may change but the need still exists. There always has to be some element of thought into how the gifts God has given may be used in his service. But speaking of it from a negative point of view, why would it be that the musician may express his art in service to God and receive support but the artist not so? Aren’t they both forms of art? These are gifts that God gave to express his glory and they should be used as such. But I must mention that I do not argue for the change in the method of Church worship. I do not say the Artist should walk up with the preacher and do his stuff. However there are other forums in which they can be used, such as evangelism, youth meetings, etc.

Lastly, I think that there may be a few gifts of individuals that are not being used in the church because of a failure to think over and discuss their use in reference to the bible. The lack of use of some of these gifts may be due to the negligence of not just the individual but also the church body as a unit

How Easy…

In 2009 I went to live with my Uncle and Aunt in South Africa for a couple months. I was there to see how the life of an Architect was, I kinda think my Dad sent me there to scare me straight concerning the decision. Before I left I got a couple sermons from my eldest brother, Mwindula, decent chap. One of them was a sermon by C J Mahaney called “The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing”. No offence to C J because that is quite the sermon but that sounds like a dumb tittle and yet the relevance of that sermon echo true to date and I think will be the same till the day I finally leave this earth.

There's a song too, not by C J though, it's by some other guy

A line that really got me from the entire sermon was “How easy we forget!” and C J would bellow this a number of times during the sermon. How true is that my one reader, how easy we forget? It’s like one of the things that we do as humans, isn’t it? It’s as sure as death, even more sure than taxes. No matter how important or significant an event or occasion is we forget. It is such a painful reality but let me give a couple examples to prove my point.

On the night of the 14^th of April 2014 about 276 girls were kidnapped from a school in Chibok, Borno State, Nigeria. The world was in uproar, me too. How could such a thing happen? What kind of people kidnap children, let alone that many. How soon till they are found? How will the families find Justice? These and many more thoughts rang through the world like the continuous beating of a giant bell at the top of a hill. And the noise of it echoed around the world. People were moved, I can say that from memory no other event united the African Continent like that one.

A year has not yet elapsed and yet to a large extent we have forgotten. We have forgotten the feelings that we had and how they made us act and react. We have forgotten how for a moment we stopped looking at the guy next to us as anything more than our fellow man. We have forgotten the families that live through this reality. We have forgotten those for whom forgetting would either be a reason for self-loathing or some level of consolation, much like sleep at the end of a tiresome period of days.

Very few can claim to not have been moved by the kidnapping

At the beginning of December 2013 250 nurses and midwives lost their jobs because of a strike in Zambia. The nurses were on strike because they wanted, one could even argue needed a 100% increment in their salaries. The government did this to show that they would not be held to ransom. Nurses were hired to replace those who had lost their jobs though not all 250 job slots were filled. Fast forward a year almost to the day and Zambia is on the verge of a presidential election because of the passing on of the president. All 250 nurses where given their jobs back. Not at the cost of their replacements, no, they were just given their jobs back.

Now one could argue that this was just the benevolence of the government or that this was done to win favour in the upcoming election, I tend to think the latter but that’s all conjecture and I’m not intending to go into conjecture. The jobs where given back and the ruling party kept its status as the ruling party. People forgot, maybe not the nurses themselves but people forgot. They forgot how they once associated and felt for those who lost their jobs as well as a dozen other feelings but at the end of the day what can’t be missed is that people forgot.

Three things I would like to point out to wrap this all up. I am not saying that EVERYONE forgot, I am saying that people forgot and this is because people forget. We don’t even know or notice that we are forgetting till we think back over something and realise that the day for it has passed, like an anniversary, or that the item is lost, like a wrist watch or a ID card of some sort, or even a memory of a person. One day we just realise that we forgot, not all of us maybe not even most of us in a couple cases but we do forget.

It does happen so we must take time to remember.. lest we forget

Secondly, and I hope I showed this through my spectrum of example choices, the reason for forgetting have little to do with the gravity of the issues we forget. We forget, it’s what we do. It does not make the issues any less important. There are those out there who enjoy pointing the finger at others saying things like “see how you forgot, we knew you were just after the attention” NO! Sometimes we just forget. The days I do not think about the man who died while we were playing football do not show that the event did not mean something to me, it shook me to the core of my being. We should not beat ourselves up over the occasional forgetfulness

But this brings me to my final point. We must make the effort not to forget. It pains me that I forget and I try not to beat myself about it but it pains me that I forget. It pains me that I forgot about the Chibok girls and that I do not pray for them as much as I ought to. It pains me that I can only think of the 250 nurses who lose their jobs when I want to criticize and crucify them in the court of public opinion over their potential vote. It pains me that I forget the man who died because I could do nothing to help. It pains me!

C J Mahany spoke of how easy we forget the things we should remember and begged, I heard him beg, the listener to take time to remember the important things. I must go out of my way to remember daily the things and people I should pray for and think of. I should increasingly find ways to forget less often such things and though I will continue to forget, because that’s what we do, I must try to forget less and less. It pains me that I will forget people and things but I will try to remember more than I forget, progress will be slow but I’m in it for the long haul

Music, My Heart and My Head

This past Sunday myself and two other guys were invited to lunch at the home of Andrew and Daphne Swanson (Link to the blog I did on them and their work in North Cyprus), who are in my opinion, hands down, the best elderly couple north of the equator. It’s not even up for debate, they are a class act, the jury came back, went home and a couple are in comas. It was really good times. While there we got into a conversation about books which deserves a separate blogpost on its own because it was REALLY GOOD. But there was another conversation on music. I have had a couple thoughts on music and its use by Christians in term of expression and the questions that came from Pastor Andrew and his wife were great to help develop the idea. The idea is far from sound and the academic paper will have to wait but I would like to bring you, my one reader in on it, trust me, it’s worth it.

So the whole thinking process begun with my watching of a TV show called ‘Mozart in The Jungle’. It’s a pretty decent show about classical music, the replacing of one maestro for another as well as the change of direction for the orchestra and a lot, and I mean a lot, of indecisiveness. It’s an okay watch, eye opening at the least. Anyway, while watching it there was a thought that hit me on musical interpretation and it all ties in with thoughts I had been having on the artisan and his need to express himself. The idea is this, the artisan is not just there to justify his commission but also to use the forum of the commission to express his view/feeling/outlook on life through his art.

In my view this is even should be even more prevalent among Christians in that the Christian should have more to say because of the mandate and the value of what he/she has to say. So the Architect should be able to express all kinds of movement, flow and motion in his work and design. The artist should also do the same and so should the musician because art in itself is expression. I might lose you here so work with me for a second. Two musicians playing the same instrument of the same song, unless following sheet music and sometimes not even then, SHOULD NOT play it the same way. I could justify this statement a number of ways but I will use one for now. It is the same as two artists with the same instruments drawing the same object will not produce a like for like image.

You see are is expression and that was the heart of my entire argument/debate. In my view, and this may only apply to the music I hear from the Churches I have been a part of in my twenty odd years on planet earth, I did a couple on mars but we are not counting those, the use of music in among Christians is not tapping into the full spectrum of its use. I actually think the use of the arts in general are not capitalised on but that is a topic for another blog. An artist should be able to go to a piano, guitar or even a drum and be able to transmit his feelings associated with something Christian related through the use of the instrument. Things like Creation, The Crucifixion, salvation or a journey through something or other are all concepts that can be expressed through music and have been but not in the Christian circles.

Keith Green's song on the prodigal son is a good example of the tool and good use of it

At this point the questions started coming in. I will not do word for word nor will I do all the questions but I will mention the major one and it’s derivatives as well as the reason it made me rethink my take on the whole issue. The questioning was around the how that might differ from emotional manipulation. The thing is music, not just music but the arts in general, are things that translate to us on an emotional level. You see my whole idea was based on expressing the emotion that the artist might feel through his/her music but the listener is just as much a part of the art as the artisan is. And the power of manipulation that it might have cannot be thrown out the window.

The thing is this is not an idea and number of people have been using it, not exactly in the way I suggest but in similar patterns to manipulate people. Sombre music at the end of a service might convince a person they had a shattering experience at church when all that happened was the music sobered them up. A number of churches use music to work the audience into frenzies and use this to justify the ‘movement of the Holy spirit’ when in actual fact it is far from it. The reality is that and this is a heavily clichéd line, ‘with great power comes great responsibility’. There, I said it. The ability to manipulate people’s emotions through music does exist and should not be abused but in my opinion it should not throw out the credibility of the tool itself. The poor use of the tool should not discredit the tool as much as it should the user/abuser of the tool.

But what has this got to do with the title eh… Well I’m glad you asked. The thing is as much as emotion moves us, makes us giddy, and makes us sad. It should not be targeted first. The head must be reached before the heart. This idea, blew my mind! The very gravity of it and real life implications are outstanding! We all love a good burst of emotion and display of passion but if the heart is not reached through the head it is manipulation. I will give two examples of this to wrap things up.

It's not as much about balance as much as it is about hierarchy, Heart through head

A man in pursuit of the heart of a woman if he comes through with all the things that make the heart tick but does not go after her from the head through the heart will almost always reach a point in the relationship where the woman realises there was nothing in the whole relationship but emotion and it will break. The winning of the heart through the head in this case requires a pseudo complete understanding of the people involved, actual knowledge of the mind and heart of the person, in that order. It has both parties genuinely know and love each other for who they really are and not just for a burst of emotion.

But this is even more important in the second example. The winning of our hearts by God is done from the head through the heart. Biblical terminology might be used to disagree with me but go with me for a second. Salvation is found when the individual is brought to a knowledge of the gravity of his/her sin and the incapability to reconcile with God. This is a head issue not a heart issue. This is what causes the break down that has the individual plead for salvation which is a heart issue. Those who “find salvation”, and I use this really loosely, from the heart first soon find, especially when they go through hard times, that their “faith” fails/falls because the going to God started off with a feeling and not a proper understanding of what’s wrong with them and what God really is.

I cannot completely shut off the idea of a person getting genuinely saved from the seat of emotion first, the heart, before a full comprehension by the seat of the thoughts, the head. But I think the former is the more common. But bringing it round to the idea of the use of art as an expression. Art, as beautiful as it is, and romantics like myself can sometimes be over awed by the notion of it and its limits. Art cannot express full ideas on its own, it must be accompanied by words, real words that paint full and clear pictures, it is only through this that the tools will not be abused. The heart through the head.

When Liverpool Lose

Another weekend that has gone south. I woke up in good spirits like usual on a weekend. Weather was great, I woke up early enough, had a nice sesh with me morning devotion and even snuck in a good hour with The Magician’s Nephew by C S Lewis, great book, I will be doing a review when I’m done with it. All was looking good, I even forgot Liverpool were playing till my phone gave me the courtesy beep that signals thirty minutes till a Liverpool match starts. Like the football addict I am I soon begin searching for a stream to watch it online, the channels over here are pointless, almost like ZNBC back home, they are oblivious to football matches or anything good.

Great book by an even better author

I find a stream that was pretty good just in time to catch the last bit of You’ll Never Walk Alone, Liverpool’s anthem. The squad line up was shown and I was pretty psyched, we had just won our last two matches and I was going to watch Coutinho, Lallana and Sterling in the same line up, what could go wrong? Stupid question Mwansa, stupid question. First thing to go wrong was the internet went off so the stream goes right out the window, laptop almost followed it but I had a bit more control.

I started flicking through all the channels on the TV in a vain attempt to find any possibility of watching the match. 152 channels of nothing! Absolutely nothing! So I was left with my last option, follow the match via twitter. I spent just over an hour flicking down to refresh the app every minute or so. Any small movement by my annoying roommate had me up against a wall ready to rip him to shreds, all because of a footy match. I was hoping for anything, any sign of life, any bit of hope to tell me the team was doing well and would win. Nothing came.

I did that for an hour then someone came to distract me for the last ten minutes of the game, thank God. As I was helping him out my phone gave me the dreaded whistle, full time had come and the score was nil-nil. What a let-down, the lads had failed to win again. I was beaten broken ready to throw away another weekend in sulking just because the team had lost. After the guy I was helping left I remained alone with my thoughts and my roommate who was doing his best rendition of The Annoying Roommate, Oscar winning performance by the way, when I realised that things need to change.

The annoying scoreline that has haunted me today

In actual fact I have had this thought almost every weekend that Liverpool have had a bad result which in retrospect is every other weekend but this time the subject was different. Before I was thinking along the lines of things need to change at Liverpool. Tighten up the defence or improve the attack or bench this player and bring this guy on but the problem was not Liverpool, the problem was me, the problem is me. I had placed Liverpool into the be all that ends all of my weekend, a position it was never supposed to occupy.

The truth is I am an addict. Anyone who knows me might be quick to say I’m addicted to coca cola and maybe I am but the addiction here is football. Football is my addiction and my laptop is the altar on which I worship, I realised that in full colour today. I have put so much of my satisfaction on the success and failure of not just Liverpool matches but football in general. I spend a lot of time watching it, I know stuff about it that is borderline ridiculous at times. I am usually able to tell what boot manufacturer players get their footwear from and not even the high profile ones, I’m talking mid to lower table. I follow U21 and U18 football and watch matches, all bragging aside this is a problem and I cant ignore it any longer.

In the words of Jefferson Bethke if you cant put it down you don’t own it, it owns you. This might be true of me ad football and I am going to find out. Most of the things I put on here are problems I have already solved, well this is a new kind. It is an issue that needs solving. I need a break from football before I put it so high that I cannot bring it down without an earth shattering system overhaul. We’ll see how things go in the next couple weeks.

If you can't give it up you don't own it, it owns you
- Jefferson Bethke

Lastly it is possible that all of this is a reaction to my team not doing well. I could be the wolf in failing to get the grapes that are high up and walking away calling them sour, no idea why a wolf would want grapes but it’s an actual metaphor. This could be a decision sparked by that but the reason I think it is more is because I see the need to wean myself off of all football ad not just Liverpool’s. We’ll see how things go but of this I am certain, the only thing I want to have such a strong hold over me is that which already has it’s hold over me, my loving service to my God.

I might be shivering from withdrawal in a couple days or weeks’ time but hey, it’s the road to recovery

The Classics

Old is gold. It’s a phrase I heard for a long time by many people but never really appreciated or understood. I spent most of my life trying to defy it till one day I woke up and it looked me point blank in the face, old is gold. This isn’t just because gold is old though I’m sure it is, the meaning goes deeper than this. Allow me to give you, my one reader, my view on “Old is gold”.

My need to write about this started around 5 43pm today, I know because I  looked at my phone checking for the time around that time but that is not the place to start a good story so I will begin with my afternoon class. The class was some Landscaping class and I was not ready for it, sorry mum if you stumble across this but it happened. Anyhoo, we were supposed to show the lecturers our Site Analysis’, it was a group project, but thanks to poor time management we had the pieces but no cake. So the job started, to get cake together, we managed to do so and using my “gift of the gab” we made it across the finish line just fine. Then the lecs, short for lecturers, asked us to begin work on our concepts.

I pulled out my little sketch book and started to draw, this was after my afternoon coke, but realised I had nothing on me mind. So I picked up me phone and googled “outdoor recreational spaces” I came across this picture of a park that was simple but it took me. I did my math, adding my analysis of the site and the picture I saw and my mind saw the idea, I just had to run with it. The image was clear, I could see the place, see the people using the place. I could see it at 4pm with the school kids walking home through it, the young mothers looking out on it from their balconies while their babies fell asleep in their arms, I could see the old guys having a smoke playing backgammon in it. I could see a young couple on a picnic blanket enjoying the moment. I saw it, I smelt it and I felt it. And I sketched.

My sketching was ended with the lecturers inviting us to the official opening of the Faculty of Fine Arts in the main Amfi Theatre on Campus. It was actually under duress because the attendance could only be signed after the event, I wasn’t even mad, I got to kill two birds with one stone. We went in, they had the usual speeches, I won’t bore you with the details and then there was a music session. That was the time I looked at me phone, I thought the launch had begun to end too soon. I soon forgot all about that as two ladies stepped up, one on the Piano and one on the violin. They were Turkish ladies, both lecturers but from a different University. They had their degrees in music which I thought fascinating but I was even more impressed when they played. They took me to a time and place, it was a transcendent experience.

That's where the took me, A time and place

All else faded away, the noise of the room. The guys doodling on small pieces of paper at my side. My body aching from all the sitting I had done. The bag by my leg that would not stay still. All was forgotten as I was immersed, carried by the music. It was music by George Frederick Handel, commonly known as the celebrated Saxon. The levels of mastery involved in the playing of the piece on both their parts. The movement and grace that they showed, the poise, the accents and the rests; it was picturesque. As they played I thought of my little sketches and in that moment I knew what I wanted to design. I wanted to design that. That space, that time, that moment.

Old is gold. Modern art forms of all kinds are great and their evolution mind blowing on so many levels but there is a lot and I mean a lot of beauty that can be seen from the root of it. Old is gold implies the value of that which has seen its time. As a young person I have grown up seeing techniques and styles and have grown accustomed to doing things a certain way because of technology etc. but old stuff makes you appreciate how people achieved so much with so little. Especially in art. How words thought and feeling can be transmitted through an art form that had yet to realise as much of what it was doing as can. We are studying now to appreciate and learn to use what came before because the achievements of those that came before are just great.

It all comes down to that

Old is gold speaks of us learning from a bygone time and period lessons that can be applied today in every aspect and not just the arts but I will give an example of the arts, cos that’s what I do. A lot of design in the minds of my contemporaries starts and ends digital but the ability to represent what you think and feel at a moment’s notice on paper with pencil/pen/marker cannot be matched. That form of “thinking on paper” is really old but its relevance stays true and once you begin to use it and see the depths of it, you see that old is gold.

Old is gold speaks of the value of age, not in that old is better than new. I don’t think it means that in the least. I think old is gold speaks of remembering the old and learning from it, cherishing it. So much can be taken from the old, so many lessons that are relevant today whether in part or as a whole. Whether directly or improved on. But even more Old is gold puts pressure on me, that when the time comes for people to look back on my time, they too may see it and say “You know what man, old is gold.”