Have you ever been chased around a bay by a dangerous predator that swims faster than you, is hundreds of times heavier, and has left you no apparent way to safety? Probably not, but have you felt like that? Sometimes the environment that brings us nurture and hope brings threats and danger. Like work, home, a neighborhood.
This past year has brought business failure, human tragedy, loss, and frustration to many of us. Sometimes there is a rescue boat. Has one come your way? I am thankful for those things that provide temporary shelter from the fight to stay alive. Sometimes it is the simple kindness someone that cares as a friend. Sometimes it is a glimpse of beauty in the sky, or the smell of a fragrant breeze, or the sound of laughter. It is often the small things that bring perspective and hope, at least until we can resolve some of the larger issues, like getting away from that predator.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
What is it about water?
I have yet to see a little kid that isn't fascinated by water. At about 4 months old, a baby's impulse is to splash with both hands while in the tub, then gasp, smile, and look up at mom. The five year old on the way to kindergarten will detour from the sidewalk to march through puddles. When nine and ten year olds jump into a pool or lake, they usually shout with delight as they do. Visit an ocean beach in the summer, and the happiest people are the kids chasing the waves and building sand castles just out of reach of the foam. The world is mostly water, and, by and large, we are fascinated, entertained, moved, challenged, and satisfied by dihydrogenoxide in all its forms.
Somewhere along the way, some of us develop fears and phobias of some forms of water. The waves that are so fun to bodysurf in can get so big that they terrify us. The gentle brook has its adult version in the category 5 rapids. The gentle stream leads to Niagara falls, and the little puddle is just a hint of ocean depths. Even 5 gallon buckets have drowning warnings posted on the sides. It seems that lawyers are more afraid of water then anyone. Water in all its forms must be treated as both the very stuff of life and with great respect.
I live in Southern California now, and I am a lawyer that likes the water. My youth was spent in in Minnesota, the land of 16,000 lakes. If you have seen a license plate from that state, you read "10,000 Lakes." So what gives? It is not exactly misrepresentation. The state motto was penned before the lakes were accurately counted, and what would people think if the land of waters now changed its motto to "the Land of 16,000 Lakes" - that rivers are being dammed up there? If you look quickly at Minnesota on a map, you could think it was farther from large amounts of water than any other region in north America, but it is positively filled with water, and even has over 120 miles of coastline along the largest body of fresh water in the world, Lake Superior (measured by surface area, which is larger than South Carolina). That stretch is called the North Shore, and it is on par with Northern California's Big Sur for its sheer, wild beauty.
The Ojibwe called it Gitchigumi, and it is a beautiful and scary body of water. The water is so cold (averaging about 45 degrees) that you will die of hypothermia in just minutes if you are out boating and have the bad luck to be knocked overboard by a big wave. Then your body will not float to the surface because the temperatures are too cold to allow bacteria growth, which causes bodies to float. Waves in big storms have been known to get over 30 feet high, and 20 foot waves are seen every year. The water is incredibly clear, and in most areas you can see the bottom about 27 feet down, and in some places underwater visibility is a hundred feet. If you could see 700 feet down, you would have a good chance of seeing one of its 350 major shipwrecks.
When I was about 10 years old, we were on a trip along the lake, and stopped in to stay with friends that had a cabin along the shore. There was a big storm raging, and the 10 foot waves were breaking about a hundred feet away on the rocky shore, but the 60 mph winds were blowing the spray all the way up to the cabin door.
If you live by the ocean, you know what big waves and dramatic conditions are like. The water that fascinates the child draws the adult, but often for different reasons. We are attracted by the wild beauty of the world around us, the powerful forces of nature, the crash of waves, the dramatic scenery. So much of what we consider beautiful is really deadly. So why is it that we are so attracted to settings and conditions that can so easily send us to meet our maker? Mountains and cliffs inspire us, but can kill us. So can the big waves that curl in their blue arches to crash down and grind rocks - and surfers - into sand.
What makes all this dangerous beauty so attractive? I don't know. I just know that on that day in the mid 1960s, when I was a kid alone in the storm, leaning at about 45 degrees into the wind, and hearing the crashing waves, I felt truly alive.
Somewhere along the way, some of us develop fears and phobias of some forms of water. The waves that are so fun to bodysurf in can get so big that they terrify us. The gentle brook has its adult version in the category 5 rapids. The gentle stream leads to Niagara falls, and the little puddle is just a hint of ocean depths. Even 5 gallon buckets have drowning warnings posted on the sides. It seems that lawyers are more afraid of water then anyone. Water in all its forms must be treated as both the very stuff of life and with great respect.
I live in Southern California now, and I am a lawyer that likes the water. My youth was spent in in Minnesota, the land of 16,000 lakes. If you have seen a license plate from that state, you read "10,000 Lakes." So what gives? It is not exactly misrepresentation. The state motto was penned before the lakes were accurately counted, and what would people think if the land of waters now changed its motto to "the Land of 16,000 Lakes" - that rivers are being dammed up there? If you look quickly at Minnesota on a map, you could think it was farther from large amounts of water than any other region in north America, but it is positively filled with water, and even has over 120 miles of coastline along the largest body of fresh water in the world, Lake Superior (measured by surface area, which is larger than South Carolina). That stretch is called the North Shore, and it is on par with Northern California's Big Sur for its sheer, wild beauty.
The Ojibwe called it Gitchigumi, and it is a beautiful and scary body of water. The water is so cold (averaging about 45 degrees) that you will die of hypothermia in just minutes if you are out boating and have the bad luck to be knocked overboard by a big wave. Then your body will not float to the surface because the temperatures are too cold to allow bacteria growth, which causes bodies to float. Waves in big storms have been known to get over 30 feet high, and 20 foot waves are seen every year. The water is incredibly clear, and in most areas you can see the bottom about 27 feet down, and in some places underwater visibility is a hundred feet. If you could see 700 feet down, you would have a good chance of seeing one of its 350 major shipwrecks.
When I was about 10 years old, we were on a trip along the lake, and stopped in to stay with friends that had a cabin along the shore. There was a big storm raging, and the 10 foot waves were breaking about a hundred feet away on the rocky shore, but the 60 mph winds were blowing the spray all the way up to the cabin door.
If you live by the ocean, you know what big waves and dramatic conditions are like. The water that fascinates the child draws the adult, but often for different reasons. We are attracted by the wild beauty of the world around us, the powerful forces of nature, the crash of waves, the dramatic scenery. So much of what we consider beautiful is really deadly. So why is it that we are so attracted to settings and conditions that can so easily send us to meet our maker? Mountains and cliffs inspire us, but can kill us. So can the big waves that curl in their blue arches to crash down and grind rocks - and surfers - into sand.
What makes all this dangerous beauty so attractive? I don't know. I just know that on that day in the mid 1960s, when I was a kid alone in the storm, leaning at about 45 degrees into the wind, and hearing the crashing waves, I felt truly alive.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
