by aramatzne@gmail.com | 4 Dec 2016 | Musing
I wonder if snails ever get tired of hauling their homes around on their backs.
When hermit crabs move out of outgrown shells, do they feel elated?
I offloaded the camper yesterday for the first time since July. I suddenly feel exposed and, at the same time, delighted that I am free of my shell. The truck feels like a zippy sports car without the extra weight but I have to learn to use the rearview mirror again.
I’m settling in Bend, Oregon, for the winter. Stay tuned. I’ll be adding posts along the way. It’s always an adventure.
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by aramatzne@gmail.com | 26 Nov 2016 | Musing, Roads Taken
wo MAN
When I was in third grade, the elementary school principal came into our class to speak with the students. I don’t now remember what the primary reason was for his visit; what I remember is only a fragment of his lecture.
He stood at the chalkboard and wrote in large letters:
M A N
Stepping to the side so everyone in the class could see the letters, he said, “Without man,” he stepped back to the board and wrote “wo” before completing his sentence, “you cannot have woman.”
On the board was the word:
wo MAN
Almost 50 years later, I can still see this man saying these words, spewing ignorance and sexism across a new generation of children.
The principal of a school stepped into a classroom to tell half of the students that they were not of value or importance, that without the other half, they simply did not exist.
At the time, I am not sure that I understood all of the implications of his words – I was, after all, a child. But, I still think about this often; clearly, it made an impression upon me.
To be told that, as girls, our very existence is entirely dependent upon men fundamentally undermines all that we intuitively know to be true about ourselves, our intrinsic value in the world, and all that we think ourselves capable of doing.
Woe, man.
Women innovators, explorers, and scientists the world around and for generations back have been discouraged from their pursuits. Surely, their place in the world did not involve pushing boundaries. Too many women have been punished for pursuing their dreams, for questioning the status quo, and for attempting to break barriers.
Sexism must die. In light of the recent election, the dis-ease that it has created, and the long road that lies ahead for us, it seems particularly important to bring these words out of the dark. They are words that can no longer be whispered. They must be clearly spoken, believed, and lived by every thinking person: sexism must die.
The possibility of a quiet revolution or a slow paradigm shift has passed. Improving women’s status has repercussions well beyond the individual; it has been proven time and again. Yet, repeatedly, women are held back, pushed down, and thrown out.
And, of course, this extends beyond women to every other minority (whom, collectively, create a majority).
Whoa! Man.
Imagine a world where all genders, orientations, colors, and religions are celebrated. Imagine collaborating across the board, and finding the best place for each of us to shine. Imagine if we were each encouraged to pursue our inherent talents and were supported in our dreams. What an amazing world we could create.
It’s time. Whoa! Everyone. What a cool world we live in.
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by aramatzne@gmail.com | 13 Oct 2016 | Musing
Part 1 The jackal
The jackal arrived first. Stopping every few meters to look around, over this shoulder, over that shoulder, turn all the way around and look again. Then do it again a few meters later and again a few meters after that. Finally, at the zebra carcass, she ripped off big chunks and swallowed them almost whole. Standing on the ribs for better traction, tearing, stopping to scan every mouthful or two, gulping as much as possible. Working every angle for the best grip and the most meat, she moved from one end of the zebra to the other and back again. Watching and eating.
Black-backed jackal with zebra carcass. Moremi National Park, Botswana
Part 2 The hyenas
Three hyenas materialized, one by one, in the grass 30 or 40 meters from the carcass. The jackal stood on high alert. It went back to the carcass, but more furtively, inhaling as many big chunks as she could. The hyenas began working their way in, looking around as they moved. And then, just as quickly as they appeared, they dissolved back into the grass. The jackal stood down.
Hyenas in the grass. Moremi National Park, Botswana
Part 3 The lions
As the hyenas began their descent upon the carcass, a lioness sauntered into view through the grass. Lying down 20 meters out from the carcass, only her back and head were visible. The hyenas made their exit. The jackal went back to business with renewed vigor.
A few minutes later, another lioness appeared in the grass. Moving around the first, she strolled the perimeter, moving slowly toward the carcass. The jackal took note and without rushing or being in any way obvious, she evaporated from the scene.
The lions took turns moving closer, repositioning themselves, lounging near the carcass but not going directly to it. They were both within a few meters, rolling a little, posing for the morning sun, seemingly enjoying their implicit power over hyenas and jackals. One flopped to the ground with a post-zebra belly in need of rest, while the other dragged the carcass closer to a covering tree and began feeding. Breakfast is served.
Zebra breakfast, Moremi National Park
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by aramatzne@gmail.com | 30 Sep 2016 | Musing
Stealthy elephants. Note elephant number five cleverly disguised as a tree. Moremi National Park, Botswana
Our lives are full of noise. Endless beeps, twitters, and rings. Traffic, jets, refrigerators, air conditioners. Ubiquitous cell phones, microwaves, TVs, and tablets. Each pinging, humming, and demanding attention. Gratuitous noise, the tv or radio turned on and then ignored, or worse, talked over loudly, has long been a pet peeve. Car keys left in the ignition, leaf blowers (^%*^%$$ leaf blowers), car alarms (see leaf blowers), and every cell phone/ATM/POS card reader with keyboards that indicate, by sound, every letter entered.
Every.letter.entered.
For some, like me, it’s exhausting. Our brains process all that noise, whether we actively recognize and acknowledge it or not. We filter out the sounds that are unimportant, we acknowledge those that have an impact on us, we scan for those we are expecting, and more importantly, for those that threaten us. This is the natural process of evolution. Hearing allows us to tune into the world, to alert us to danger and opportunity, alike. Modern humans have piled on so many extra layers of noise that we barely hear what is necessary anymore.
Enter, the elephants. Elephants are bigger than your imagination can conjure. They eat plants, roots, branches, leaves, and stems. Their dexterity, for not having an opposable thumb, is remarkable, but still, tearing limbs off of trees and roots out of the ground is not a quiet pursuit. Elephants, like humans, leave an impressive imprint wherever they go. And yet, if they were not pulling branches from a tree, you might not know they were there.
They are silent. They walk without noise. They move through thick brush and low trees silently. An entire herd of elephants can sneak up on you. They materialize out of the shrubs one by one as if they are vapor suddenly swirling together to create a house-sized, gray phantom. And then they swirl away again back into the trees, one by one out of sight.
Scanning either side of a road, while politely waiting as an elephant crosses, there are no more to be seen in the brush. Searching low for legs and trunks and high for ears and backs, there is nothing but brush. Before the first one is across, though, there is another, fresh out of the shrubs. You look again. Nope, definitely no more hiding in there. A big female with a calf comes strolling through; a couple of teenagers horsing around follow her. Now you’re sure that’s the last of them… What at first appears to be a lone animal turns into an entire family group taking shape out of the bush and dissolving back into it.
They rumble. You have to be close to hear the bass, almost cat-like purr, more felt deep in your chest than heard; it does not travel far. Elephants also use infrasound, below our audible hearing range, to communicate across long distances.
I wonder, is their world as noisy as ours?
Do they say, among themselves, “The impalas are sooooo loud!” Or, “I hope the hippos keep it down tonight.” “There go the hyenas again. They always go blaring off when someone walks by.”
Are there teenage elephant infrasound parties that keep the whole neighborhood awake? Do they make infrasound noise just because it brings them joy? Or do they remain silent in their elephant way, only rumbling and speaking when necessary? Is the baseline noise of the savannah exhausting enough that they choose silence?
In what is perhaps a romantic view, I see elephants as intelligent and humble, rumbling when content, and otherwise staying quiet simply because they are listening. Because adding their voices to the cacophony isn’t necessary, because there is more to learn from mostly remaining silent. I could learn a lot from elephants. Rumble more.
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