Driftwood

 

DRIFTWOOD 

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

 

I saw a log of driftwood, resting inland from the shore.

Some would call it detritus, but I would call it more.

I looked it over carefully and traced its deep etched lines,

The weather told a story of twists and turns and time.

 

The driftwood lay above the tides, but not beyond the winds,

For they had sent its body to a spot where life begins.

Around it there grew seedlings, and they fluttered in the breeze,

As if announcing here begins and ends a story of the seas.

 

I sat upon that driftwood log and listened to the waves,

 I thought about the lives it knew, and how many had been saved,

As it drifted miles away from home, and lifted up the lost,

Helping them embrace its hope when fear around them tossed.

 

Beyond the rocks and tidal reach, more driftwood could be seen,

Where others there before me had found a space to lean,

By building little monuments and shelters made from limbs,

Though none might last the winter in the face of biting winds.

 

Yet driftwood lets us come to rest on a temporary plot,

That tells a changing story showing nothing ever rots,

The cycle just begins again and memories abide,

In places where there’s shelter and life beyond the tide.  

Why We Should Look Fear in the Face

 

 Why We Should Look Fear in the Face

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

 At his first inauguration in 1933, in the depths of the country’s Great Depression, Franklin D. Roosevelt warned, “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.”  He described it as “nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts.” 

 Things like fear of failure, social rejection, loss of employment, a diagnosis of cancer, and near-death experiences have freaked out many of us from time to time. The causes lie all around.  In their mildest form, they produce anxiety.  At the extreme, when we fixate on certain fears, they may morph into phobias or mental illness.

 Now more than usual, our country is struggling with fear.  What is worse, the problem is intensified by widespread anger, which works just as well at distorting our vision, warping our thinking, and spawning hate. Lately the dramas of fear and anger are causing us to “circle the wagons” to stop others from sharing our space.

 Fearfulness causes us to distrust others or even ourselves to do the right thing.  We sacrifice our sense of community and togetherness.  We stop listening or only listen to what we want to hear. 

 Under our fears grows a willingness to blame others instead of ourselves, never to admit guilt, or to insulate ourselves by litigation.   Stubborn ignorance leads us to deny science or delay giving it due consideration.  Tragically, the pandemic has played on some of our worst fears.  It has convinced a third of us to resist life-protecting immunizations, despite a 99 percent unvaccinated rate among related hospitalizations.   

 In no small measure our fears arise not from too little information, but too much, provided quickly by the media, typically undigested and spewed into our minds and ears, absent wisdom or perspective.  Awash in data, we grow inclined to ignore or reject it, believing we are powerless.  Sometimes we latch onto the wrong conclusions, for instance by insisting that shark attacks and snake bites far outnumber fatal traffic accidents or heart disease.

 Not always is fear a damaging emotion.  It can be a survival response as it releases empowering adrenaline.  The scariness of horror movies and roller coasters provides a satisfying rush of dopamine.  And sometimes fear and anger galvanize us into steps that may resolve an issue or strengthen a cause. Whenever there is time, we should stop to examine the underlying worthiness of purpose. 

 I always find it useful to explicitly name my sources of fear as a way to challenge them.  I try to separate anger from fear, and to consider whether threats are real or imagined. And before acting, I always ask myself, what are the best and worst things that can happen.   

 Fear can deeply affect family relationships.  My own mom provides a lesson in fears unintentionally nurtured by too much dependence on my dad who took care of everything.  Throughout her married life she remained fearful of bankbooks, swimming, driving a car, or using mechanical conveniences of all sorts.  When we insist on self-responsibility and independence at an early age, significant fears may never materialize.    

 Fears that edge into lasting illness may respond to behavior modification or more formal cognitive therapy.  Sometimes by seeking out mentors or sounding boards, little by little we may gain self-assurance, start to listen, consider a broader array of choices, and find common ground. 

 Whenever I start to feel afraid, I remember advice given not by FDR, but by his spouse Eleanor who said, “You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face.”  

 

 

The Galapagos Tortoise and the Snapping Turtle

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

 

We were witnessing a slow-motion confrontation between two giant creatures, each weighing hundreds of pounds, on the island of Santa Cruz in the Galapagos.  At issue was ownership of a muddy water hole nestled in the grassy surroundings of a tortoise farm.  About 200 of these strange helmeted creatures were slowly aging there, some of them more than 100 years old.  

 As we watched, the two opponents faced off by bracing up their front legs, raising their surprisingly long necks, and opening their jaws wide while hissing.  By no coincidence, the one with the longer neck dominated and chased off his opponent at a snails’ pace.  It was just as likely, said our guide, that what we saw was a mating ritual.  A male and female might be inching their way toward an awkward tryst.   In the wild, the line between love and war may deceive us.   

 How did some 15 different species of tortoise find their way from mainland South America to the Galapagos archipelago?  No one really knows, but with no natural predators and mountains of lush grass, some of them grow up to six feet long and a thousand pounds.  After near extinction (their meat is a sailor’s delight), currently they number more than 15,000.  The tortoises are well prepared to survive since they can live without food or water for up to 16 months, and they spend up to 16 hours daily just resting.

 Tortoises remind me of other-worldly creatures because their kind faces and stretchable necks look just like E.T. trying to phone home.   They also remind me of a brontosaurus from millions of years ago, contentedly munching on vegetation in Jurassic Park.  

 In contrast, there is a reptilian relative, also a turtle, who looks and acts a bit like tyrannosaurus rex.  This creature is threatening, ugly, loves raw meat, and has a nasty bite.

We call him a snapper.  He lives nearby.   

 The snapping turtle was declared New York state’s reptile in 2006.  They may weigh up to 30 pounds, have shells up to 20 inches long, and they can live up to 50 years in captivity.

Unlike tortoises who dwell on land and may drink abundant amounts of water, the snapper seldom strays far from the water of ponds, lakes and streams and emerges only in the spring to lay eggs.   Wikipedia literature rightly describes them as aggressive predators with a belligerent disposition.  Their powerful beak-like jaws can snap off careless fingers.  And they have a surprisingly mobile head and neck and can move fast for a turtle – but only when they want to.

 Like many who live near rural ponds, we enjoy stories about snappers.  Several of these pre-historic looking creatures thrive in our pond.  A few years ago, one of them, in search of soft ground to lay eggs, decided to stop for a rest in our pool.  

 Every morning she would topple into our pool and glare menacingly at us.  During the night she would climb out and leave.  Meanwhile we tried hoisting her out with a shovel.  Unfortunately, she was too heavy.  One day we just happened to leave our radio on by the pool.  Upon returning, we were amazed to find her nestled right beside the speaker.  We had discovered a promising strategy for turtle removal.  It worked for us more than once.  Despite having no ear drums, apparently turtles can respond to lower or deeper sound frequencies and vibrations. 

 A Galapagos tortoise and a New York snapper seem worlds apart, but they share many similarities.  Technically, they are all turtles.  Both have a permanent domed carapace and scales made of the same substances as our own fingernails and hair.  Both need air to breathe.  Both lay eggs on land and go to great lengths to do so, then abandoning the result.  The temperature of the soil pre-determines the sex inside those eggs.   Both are cold-blooded creatures who need heat to activate.  Both live very long lives.  Neither has teeth (but this does not preclude nasty bites).  Both hiss when angry or threatened. 

 There are some big differences.  Turtles live in water, while tortoises live on land.  Most turtles have web feet.  Tortoises have clawed feet, powered by massive hind legs to push their weight up and forward.  Aesop’s fable suggests why the tortoise won his race with the hare.  Those sturdy legs pushed him to the finish while the cocky hare fell asleep.  Tortoises and turtles convince us that slow and steady wins the race.