In shady woods and under banks
The modest primrose gleams,
As nature stirs and comes to life
From out its winter dreams.
(David Hope, The Friendship Book 1976)
“It’s a busy, busy, busy world”…
Guru’s are plying us with their “busy, busy mantra” right, left and centre, using every medium known to men, women, and children.
The wise people who take guru words with a grain of salt, or not at all, are already aware of Herbert Alexander Simon’s advice, and just haven’t articulated it as he has:
“What information consumes is rather obvious: it consumes the attention of it’s recipients. Hence a wealth of information creates a poverty of attention, and a need to allocate that attention efficiently among the overabundance of information sources that might consume it.”
It is a conundrum is it not?
We’re being conned into believing a plethora of information, useless or useful matters not a whit, it is data vital to our daily lives.
If we don’t communicate we’ll vegetate; the good life only comes to those who have a myriad of technological toys and who communicate, communicate, communicate.
The new Call of the Wild is made up of four-wheelers, backpacks and you-name-it, all loaded to the hilt with technological marvels.
I mean where would we be without a profusion of gadgets with buttons to push: cellphones, and hand-held GPS satellite-dependent marvels?
Oh, and one, or more, of these gizmos must have TV.
We’ve got to keep in touch with the crazy, mixed up world we’re trying to escape, eh? Besides, how else are we going to see the wildlife without our TV?
Is the profusion of electronic wizardry why we have Weltschmerz?
Weltschmerz is a German noun, received today via one of those technical chunks of wizardry I’m on about. “VELT-shmerts” means “world weariness, pessimism, apathy, or sadness felt at the difference between physical reality and the ideal state.”
Toys help, there’s no question about it, but toys, especially noisy toys, don’t heal a soul filled with Weltschmerz.
We had some visitors who brought some Weltschmerz with them.
They were from a city, a big city, a go-go-go-go city, “a city that never sleeps” to quote the gurus who love to paint meaningful word pictures.
We were driving the Alcan. We stopped, we had the road to ourselves, so we moved off the highway a bit, and listened. He was awestruck; he’d never heard it before; the sound of silence.
He liked it.
His Weltschmerz was soon gone.
Yep, the bush can do it alright, although everything needing batteries needs to be left at home if we’re going to get a real soul-healing bellyful of bush, eh?
A wise old man said something like this one day, long ago, “When the world is too heavy on your shoulders, take the hand of a three year old and go for a walk. That kid and the bush will do more for you than all the gurus in the world.”
Time to take a walk!
Have a good spring!
Snow, snow, and more snow, eh?
Tired of March and its current peccadillo — throwing snow at us like candy to kids.
“We ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” as the fellow at the Farmers Almanac may have said in 1992 when he made this list:
The heaviest snowfall in Canada in one day was 118.1 centimetres (46.5 inches) at Lakelse Lake, BC, in 1974.
The heaviest snowfall in one month was 5,390.9 centimetres (176.8 feet) at Haines Alaska Petroleum Pipeline System, No. 2, BC in 1959.
The heaviest seasonal snowfall was 2,446.5 centimetres (80 feet) at Revelstoke/Mount Copeland, BC, in 1971-72.
The highest average snowfall, 1,4354.1 centimetres (47 feet), at Glacier Mountain, BC.
Doesn’t help a bit does it?