Are humans natural or aberrations?

The train of my previous blog switched tracks but continued on its journey so I thought I'd invite you along.

 

Even as a child, I was fascinated by the forested mountains surrounding my hometown.  I was never afraid in the woods.  Occasionally spooked by an unidentified sound? Certainly. Cautious? Absolutely.  Respectful? Definitely.  Lost? Several times. But afraid? Not once. 

 

Life in the forest makes sense.  All natural things do. Admittedly, humans sometimes need to study a natural phenomenon for a very long time before we finally "get it".  Once we do, though, it makes sense.  Always.  So much so, in fact, that sometimes we're left wondering why it took us so long to figure it out.  I'm beginning to think the reason might be that humans are more aberration than natural.

 

Think about it for a little while.  For inspiration, go back to my beloved forest and my statement about never having been afraid there.

 

Let's say you're hiking and you come across a bear with young cubs.  Admittedly, you're potentially in a world of trouble. But the threat to you for being in the wrong place at the wrong time is rational.  Every time I'd choose the danger of facing a protective mother who's bigger, stronger, and equipped with huge claws and sharp teeth over the danger of walking in on an armed junkie robbing a convenience store.  I may well die in either situation but, if I do, at least I know what I've done "wrong" with the bear.  If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer to die because a mother incorrectly assessed me as a threat to the well-being of her offspring than to die because an insane person decided to take by force what he hadn't earned and didn't care for the possibility of leaving behind a potential witness.

 

Yes, I suppose you could argue that the armed junkie was behaving naturally.  A skilled devil's advocate might present him as a predator in taking what he hadn't earned and say that he was protecting himself in shooting me to avoid identification later.  Said advocate could, therefore, score points by twisting the hypothetical situation into some semblance of the natural world.  I'd counter, though, that his reason for taking what he hadn't earned was not at all natural.  Unless inflicted on it by man (and excepting man), you'd find it difficult to locate an animal addict. And a natural predator wouldn't take something to be bartered for something else. It would take food or shelter or a weapon; something it needed immediately for survival.

 

Another example:  If I step on a copperhead during a hike, it's not going to be pleasant for me.  Again, I'd far prefer to suffer the physical harm caused by a poisonous bite to that of being grabbed from behind and dragged into a darkened alley.  Again, the snake is behaving in a completely rational manner whereas the rapist is another insane person intent on forcing sex on me for the purpose of torture, control or humiliation. That never happens in the natural world, either.  And don't get me started on pedophilia!

 

I can think of many more examples of "natural" danger as opposed to the danger posed by man but I'm going to stop here because in every single example, I'd prefer to face the "natural".  Others may disagree but I'm always going to feel safer as the sole human in the middle of even a completely unfamiliar forest than I am in the middle of a well-known city.  The natural makes sense.  While I have hope for the potential of the aberration, I sometimes despair at its insanity.  I'm reminded of a line from the 1991 movie Last of the Mohicans in which Hawkeye recounts to Cora that his adoptive father once told him the white man was "a breed apart and makes no sense."  I would say that was equally true of all humans.

 

You can take the girl out of central Pennsylvania ...

I've been back in America for 16 months now and I'm still being knocked out by every sighting of the deeply forested mountains surrounding my hometown.  It is Autumn (my favorite season) and the foliage is glorious but it's more than "just" that.

 

I loved living by the ocean in both Atlantic City and Galway.  There's such tranquility to the natural rhythm of the sea and I loved breathing the salt-cleansed air.  In Galway, the mountains of Clare were visible so I was even more content there than in New Jersey.  Still, the Irish mountains are different from those of Pennsylvania; beautiful but for me not quite "right".  Probably just because I was born and raised here but there's little logic in emotion and even in Galway, I missed my own mountains.

 

I've always been awed by them but I now feel an even deeper appreciation, having been away from them for so very long.  Looking at them, I feel as I do when looking at a particularly clear night sky.  Star gazing gives me peace and perspective.  Watching the ocean and being lulled by the Earth's heartbeat provides the same clarity.  Looking at the mountains yields the same humbling, don't-sweat-the-small-stuff, look-at-the-big-picture-instead advice.

 

It doesn't matter what season it is.  The trees can be wearing the alarmingly bright new leaves of Spring, the rich green of Summer, the flaming yellows, oranges and reds of Autumn or they can be totally sky-clad in Winter.  Regardless, rounding a corner and being surprise-kissed by the sight of one of those majestic geological formations brings a smile to my face and warmth to my heart.

Cultures Divided by a Common Language

I realized with surprise that I’ve now lived exactly the same amount of time in America as I have abroad.

I was born and raised in Pennsylvania but began moving progressively further away from home when I was 17.  I lived very briefly in New Jersey and then in Texas for nearly 3 years. From there, I moved to Ireland, where I lived in Belfast for 4 years, in Dublin for a grand total of 2 weeks, and then in Galway for a year.  I next moved to England, staying put in London for 21 years. Finally, I returned to my hometown just over a year ago.

Fortunately, while living in London, I visited Rome and Barcelona but that’s as much an incursion as I managed to make into Europe.

I can honestly say that I thoroughly enjoyed everywhere I’ve been, although admittedly I didn’t always understand everyone and everything I experienced.

I suffered culture shock when I first moved to Belfast in December 1983 and, although I thought I’d remained as staunchly American as I’d always been (the accent never so much as wavered), I suffered an equal dose when I returned to Altoona in June 2010.  I suppose all those years abroad did leave a mark, as well as an impression, after all.

Two statements made in my hearing, equally incorrect and 27 years apart, summarize for me what I know of cultures divided by a common language.  In 1983 a man in Belfast said, “Americans know the price of everything and the value of nothing.”  In 2011 a woman in Altoona said, “Foreigners understand nothing about us.”

Where do writers get ideas?

I'm often asked this question and the answer is EVERYWHERE.

Sometimes I have a dream that is so vivid and seems such a good idea for a new story line that I use it.  Sometimes something happens to me, to someone close to me, or even to a complete stranger, that makes an impact on me.  My mind kicks into gear with imaginary scenarios based on the event.  I sometimes wonder "what if this instead of that had happened" or "what events led to that happening" or "what if this happens next".  The next thing I know, I'm in full daydream mode, creating characters and actions loosely based on the event.

I know some writers plan out their books - beginning, middle and end.  I used to do that but stopped because my characters rarely behave and go where I originally planned for them to go.  It's a complete waste of time for me, although I'm sure it works for others.  When I have an idea, I just sit down at the keyboard, put on my headphones with my favorite music of the moment and allow my imagination to take me where it will.