Morning, 23.May.13

It's raining. Thunder. Dawn is eerie peach.

Idée d’jour

I am not an atheist, but an earthiest. Be true to the earth.

Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire, "Down the River"

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As I mention, I am thoroughly enjoying this book. This line leapt out at me because I have been pondering the qualities of human nature of late.

I don't suppose being true to the earth would be the same as being true to our human nature. If the 21st century version of human nature is any indication, humans are about as far from being true to the earth as possible.

Consider: changes in geologic forms take multiple human life times. Changes in atmospheric conditions, at least until the industrial revolution, were similarly slow.

Consider: human nature seems dominated by straight lines, boxes, rectangles, and grids. None of these exist in nature; all relate to a human concept of "perfection" which has held sway at least since Aristotle.

To the best of my knowledge, a "perfect circle" does not exist in nature. Neither does a right angle, or something as perfectly straight as a plumb-line or laser beam. Even the average human body, whether male or female, does not contain a truly straight line or perfectly round circle.

Humans struggle to make life easier. We may not be alone in using and constructing tools (even some bugs use sticks as tools), but we do seem the only species who improve on the tools and methods used by previous generations.

Thus, we move into desert regions, such as the better part of southern California, and we find ways to force streams into the desert, as it were. We do not consider the repurcusions; we act as if the water is an inexhaustable resource.

In our dreams of providence and manifest destiny, we suppose that humans miles away need the water more than the mountain or lake, and its environs.

Perhaps it was when we built the pipelines from lake and mountain. The years of inexhaustable water, however, seem well behind us. The demand, measured by an increasing number of thirsty humans and artificially green lawns, has outstripped the supply. And, many scientists believe, the supply has decreased as well.

I do not judge southern California's city planners, developers, or home owners. I recognize the hubris and short-sightedness because I am also culpable. I have been equally short-sighted and head strong in ways big and small.

The situation in southern California is a striking example, however, of how our human ingenuity has played its part in creating this "perfect storm".

Tornado Season

It’s tornado season.  As a TV junkie, to me this means most network programming will be pre-empted by local weathermen.  Like political parties, TV stations have discovered the way to keep you glued to their station is to scare you: “Our new Doppler system will tell us when the twister is knocking on your door!  Stay tuned!”

In my case, these fear tactics generate a response similar to the towns’ people to the boy who cried wolf.  I am, in a word, cynical.  I won’t worry until I hear tornado sirens.

The quiet suburban  neighborhood I live in is far from traditional tornado paths.  The infamous May 3rd tornado of 1999 did not come significantly close to this area.  Tornadoes this weekend, along the Texas panhandle, and in southern Kansas, were significant distances from Oklahoma City, which is almost dead center of the state.

There were a number of tornado warnings last night.  The closest I’m aware of was near Wolf, which is almost 70 miles southeast of OKC.  As I say, I’ve gotten skeptical of the constant barrage of mostly redundant information provided by local TV.  I’ve chosen to wait for the sirens. 

Once I hear the sirens, then I turn on the TV to see how close the system is. Otherwise, I refuse to get caught up in their manipulation.

I almost turned on the tube early this morning, even though there were no sirens. I became aware of repeated lightening strikes a bit before 3 a.m. It was a major lightshow, and one could barely say "one Mississippi" between the flash of the lightening and the thunder. This told me the system was quite near.

I wasn't afraid, really, but DJ was. She ran from window to window meowing. She did her own form of feline storm tracking.

Try sleeping through thunder and meowing. It's an effective alarm system. However, I was still groggy enough to lack the inertia to get out of bed.

Happily, DJ and I survived. By the time I got up (around 6), there was only a shallow stream of water down the middle of the street; the water in the gutter was only about three inches deep. Easily passable.

Coworkers' yards flooded. One lives just a mile or so north of me; the other lives several miles south. So, I count myself lucky.

And we're all lucky compared to the people of Greensburg, KS.