Sometimes hearing other people’s
words opens other perspectives. A word or two uttered in a conversation can
lead to a lifetime of discussion. Listening to each other is becoming more
important than ever. I heard a new expression last week. We were in Sault Ste.
Marie and had taken a lunch break from the running around chaos. While I
enjoyed a toasted western at a Queen Street eatery, I overheard the strange
words “chaotic good” from a couple of young diners. But the TV, with an
interview with Chris Hadfield at the space station, distracted me from the rest
of the young philosophers’ conversation. However, the odd terminology stuck
with me. So once at home I turned to the Google world, which told me that
chaotic good refers to the combination of a good heart with a free spirit. That
was easy enough.
And that trip to the Sault had been an easy one. The
highways were clear and the snowstorm factor was nonexistent. In fact, most of
the snow has disappeared from this part of the world. Last week we were able to
snowshoe through at least 10 inches of beautiful soft powder that had arrived
in late December. But then January thawed into April. A wild wind arrived with
the mild temperatures. Lake Superior churned and roiled. Ten-foot waves crashed
the shore, tore to the back of the beaches and released thundering echoes into
the air.
On the second morning of the storm, as the lake was trying
to calm down, we noticed a large bird, a partridge, fly into the birch tree
outside our front window. The ruffed grouse was exquisite. It tiptoed along the
slender branches, stretching its neck to reach and grab the tender fat fingers
of “fruit” at the end of each birch twig. We marvelled at the bird’s dexterity
and balance as it walked on the multitude of tree tightropes. It was so amazing
to watch that Ward grabbed his camera and filmed a minute of the acrobatics.
You can watch the bird on YouTube under the title, “Lake Superior ruffed grouse
in birch tree.”
The bird’s tiptoeing was an effortless exercise in time and
space compared to some of the recent antics that humans have undergone up in
the sky. Not only has Hadfield been sharing his insight, but NASA’s Kepler
mission also has been relaying some mighty sublime stuff. The advanced
scientific project has revealed the possibility of some 2,400 candidate planets
a few light years away and even suggests that there is a planet that is
composed of diamond. The study, launched in 2009 to search for other earth-like
planets, now suggests there are even more possible habitable planets up there.
Some of the data from Kepler suggests that we could have 17 billion further
sisters and brothers. Such planets exist in what researchers call the
“goldilocks zone” — not too hot, not too cold, just right.
Chris Hadfield, Canada’s philosopher astronaut, is living on
the edge of the goldilocks zone right now. And we were lucky to be among the
millions who could appreciate his 20-minute live interview last Thursday from
the Interntional Space Station. Hadfield is an incredible ambassador for Canada
and our world. From his module he can watch his own nature channel and observe
the earth roll around space, showing its different faces at each turn. Hadfield
shares his view with more than 165,000 followers on Twitter. His crystal-clear
images of familiar places emphasize the beauty and vulnerability of our world.
And he adds his own introspection: “Yes, there are important territorial
issues; there are important personal issues. But at the same time, with
increased communication, with increased understanding, comes a more global
perspective.”
Chris Hadfield, I think we need your insight right now. From
your perch in the sky give us guidance. Canada could be in trouble. We are
dealing with a multitude of conflicting ideas. An ever growing chorus of voices
and opinions fills the media and the streets. The chaotic good is walking a
risky tightrope. And it’s not easy for people like it is for the grouse. This
tough balancing act teeters between wanting to do good and not wanting to
impose force to do that good.
We must be careful with what we say and how we treat each
other. Unkind words, heavy blame or rash actions could tip the scales.
Judgemental biased opinions could condemn any combined successful future.
Columnist Brian MacLeod put it well when he said that we
need an omniscient observer. Maybe Hadfield could be one. Maybe his
Twitterverse can give our country the balance it needs. And then we could adopt
Hadfield’s simple, yet complex, perspective. “We’re all in this together.”
Those are words that could unlock any door.
Meditating on the past is a natural consequence after Christmas. This
is such a reminiscent time of year. Some might even say that a flip
through 2012 is inevitable.
Although, the present moment can be quite fine also. I
stole one the other
morning. The light from a full moon danced across the lake, leaving a
light trail before sinking into a bed of sea smoke. As the moon slid
away, sunrise pink blushed the early morning blue. Such a marvellous
sight from such a non-technological source. No YouTube here.
But, technology drives our world
and as we speed into the next year,
electronics makes it even easier to check out what was. I’ll share a
couple of my own personal highlights. This week I am enjoying Adele’s
CD 21. Her Rolling in the Deep sends shivers down my musical spine.
What a powerful voice she has. And as for the books I read in 2012, I
started the year off with Margaret MacMillan‘s Paris 1919 and am
ending it with Tolstoy’s War and Peace. All that War of 1812 stuff got
me into the heavy tome, although I suspect it will take me about
another 200 years to finish it.
Regarding my 2012 columns, I want to thank all of you for reading
my
missives. Your enthusiasm is most appreciated. As I perused my 2012
stack of writings, some memories jumped out at me.
On Jan 24th I wrote about the abandoned Eastman house beside Highway 17,
right across from the Mississauga River. There is something so enticing
about that empty old place. It must house hundreds and hundreds of
stories.
On April 2nd it was fun telling about the digital camera we found
at the mouth of the Agawa River. The trusty little unit had spent the
winter by theshore until spring break up released it into, and back out of,
thelake. The wonder of Facebook made it possible for us to find the owner,
Scott Matthews. We returned the camera intact.
On May 30th I enjoyed sharing the recipe for lamprey pie. (Yoikes)
And then on July 23, 2012 there was the coincidental July 22, 2004 entry from a
notebook in the light keeper’s house on Otter Island. That grand old
lighthouse is one of my favourite haunts on Lake Superior.
For Aug. 9th, the connections between the wonderful Olympic opening
ceremonies, Shakespeare and Lake Superior wove together.
The Aug 20th paddle on the little lake with all the little frogs is my
great memory for stormy winter days.
On Sept 24th honouring Glenn Gould was an honour,
as was writing the Oct 22nd story of Baumgartner jumping into space
and landing in the New Mexico desert.
Nov 19th gave me the chance to describe the incredible light filled
Dieppe memorial on the Windsor waterfront. And Dec 4th was for imagining Mark
Carney as he played hockey on an outdoor rink.
I’ll end the year with just one more story. Last week, scientists
called off their search for microbial life in the water of an
Antarctic subglacial lake. The 100,000 year old lake, lying beneath 3
km of ice, remains inaccessible for now. The scientists couldn’t reach
the hot water cavity they had created to supply the water needed for
the drill. However, the researchers will return to the Antarctic in
four or five years to try again. Science! You gotta love it.
I like this story because I like ice. It is such a winter
treat. Last
year there wasn’t ANY ice on our stretch of Lake Superior. I missed
watching it form, missed that glimpse into an artist’s heart. The
creations are magical. High crystal cliffs, singing ice sheets and
shining reflections always refresh the spirit.
And that transformation from liquid to solid is a natural
miracle
everywhere. The little frogs in the little lake sleep within an icy
grasp. The pages of the Otter Island notebook curl up with frost
flowers. And skating on an outdoor rink can open the soul.
However, even if the ice man does not cometh, I shall embrace whatever
the winter of 2013 gives.
So Happy New Year everyone and may your 2013 be full of
fine, fond memories for the years to come.
