Happy birthday, my daughters (life lessons)

My daughters, today I share a few life lessons I’ve picked up along the way, as a birthday gift to you.

Fools rush in

The knowing of a thing can help dilute fear of the thing. “For fools rush in where angels fear to tread,” wrote Alexander Pope in 1709 in An Essay On Criticism. Sir Edmund Burke later popularized that phrase in his Reflections on the Revolution in France, writing the line “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread” in 1790. And then we pick it up in E. M. Forster’s novel titled Where Angels Fear to Tread written in 1905.

What is a fool? Someone who is unknowning, who doesn’t know better than to do something that will probably have a less than desirable outcome. To rush in is to act speedily, and it implies action without thinking. Where do angels fear to tread? Only in the darkest, most evil and dangerous places imaginable. “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread” says to me that in the face of danger or evil, acting without knowledge creates even more risk.

Afraid of bears

I remember being very afraid of bears, becoming acutely aware of it in my teens as I spent more time hiking in the incredible mountain ranges of Washington State. Somewhere along the way, my parents taught me if I wanted to overcome a fear, I needed to learn everything I could about the subject of my fear. I needed to become less of a fool, and to act with forethought and knowledge.

So I looked through encyclopedias and text books, found old National Geographic magazines, and talked to park rangers, and I learned a ton about bears. Then I went on solo hikes in Olympic National Park. When that turned out okay, I went on solo night hikes in the Olympics. Problem solved…or so I thought.

The bear and me

In my first geology job out of college, I went on several long hikes (we called them traverses, probably because it sounded more scientific than going on a hike) to gather samples from remote areas in Washington and Idaho. And I encountered a bear. On this particular traverse, I was near Chewelah, Washington, and had to cross a wide forested gully to reach a stream where I was to collect a water sample.

Large, mature Ponderosa pines towered overhead, blocking the direct sunlight. On that dry summer day, the thick carpet of aromatic pine needles crunched with each step of my booted feet. The trees had no branches for the bottom 20 feet or so, making the glade seem like a fairytale park in the filtered light.

I was nearly to the middle of the gully when I saw an old tree trunk, slowly returned to the soil, lying nearly perpendicular to my path. It was too large to comfortably climb over with my pack, so I decided to detour around it. Just as I started to alter my path, I heard a slight sound from the far side of the trunk, and slowly a bear stood up, seeming to tower above me.

I stood rooted to the spot – fear does that – trying desperately to remember what I had learned about bears in my research several years prior. Eyesite bad: check. Can outrun a human: check. Hearing: don’t remember. Sense of smell: don’t remember. Can climb trees better than people: check. Make noise to warn off a bear: check. Usually shy and afraid of people, unless it’s a she-bear with cubs: check.

Do something

So I couldn’t run from it and couldn’t climb to safety. Maybe I could hide. Making noise would be faster and easier, though, so I decided to do that. I had nothing in hand to make a mechanical noise, so I started singing. And what came out of my mouth still surprises me to this day: Barry Manilow’s song, Oh Mandy.

“I remember all my life, Raining down as cold as ice,” I sang. The bear stood up taller.

“A shadow of a man, A face through a window.” My voice cracked as I sang “shadow.” The bear appeared to be sizing me up.

“Crying in the night, The night goes into..Morning, just another day, Happy people pass my way.” The bear dropped, turning as it did, and galloped away. I could hear the pounding paws and the crunch of the pine needles for what seemed like minutes, even though it only lasted seconds.

As the pounding in my ears subsided, I realized the bear had run off in the direction I needed to go. I changed my course and headed for a sampling site farther upstream, collected my sample (while looking frequently over my shoulder), then sang songs all the way back to the truck.

These memories came flooding back last month when we heard something go bump in the night.

Fear can overcome the logical mind

“Fear is the mind killer,” wrote Frank Herbert in Dune for the character Paul Atreides. I experienced that with my Chewelah bear encounter, because for a few moments, my mind went completely blank.

Fear lives in the heart, but the heart can be overruled by the mind. The first reaction, though, is fear. It takes concerted mental effort to set that emotional response aside and think logically.

From whence comes hate?

I think hate is just fear, but in the context of “fools rush in where angels fear to tread,” it is amplified into something more sinister. It is based on lack of knowledge, lack of self-examination, and of acting without thinking. It is fear that has become embedded in a person’s innermost self. Hate and prejudice are rooted in the not knowing of something or someone, and we fear what we don’t know. Solution: learn everything you can about those things you fear, and you’ll discover they are not as fearsome as you thought.

Hate becomes etah

To this day, I have never seen my parents act hatefully toward someone else. It was not part of who they wanted to be, and it was not tolerated in our home. I was raised unable to use the word hate in conversation. The closest we children were allowed to get was to reverse the word, so hate became etah, pronounced ee’ tah. “I etah brussel sprouts” I would say, and we would giggle, because etah just sounds silly.

Our favorite curse words all sound violent. They are short words, and the punchy sound when saying them is almost physical in nature. They end on a hard consonant.

Hate is one of these curse words, full of violence and power. Saying etah takes the power away from the word.

Disconnectedness between heart and mind

I know I can live and love and work and play with people of all stripes. But that is knowing in my logical mind, and the first reaction comes from the heart.

I know it is the differences that make us stronger, that add spice to the dish of life. But differences also breed fear.

If I close myself off from differences, if I do not remain open to new experiences and ideas, I create a seedbed where fear can grow. One of the key challenges I face is connecting my heart and mind, so the two together are stronger than either is alone. My mind can temper my heart, and my heart can open my mind.

I don’t need one of you

I recall a moment when I stood with two other geologists in front of a mine manager, who wanted ideas about a particular part of the mine. He was seeking advice on the potential for more ore that could be mined. He asked me my opinion, and I told him bluntly what I thought the probability was: very poor. He asked each of the other two geologists, and they parroted each other, saying they thought the potential was good.

I remember thinking, “I am in for it now!” Many folks in management don’t want to hear anything less than positive, upbeat comments. Instead, the mine manager turned to the other two and said, “If you are going to agree with each other, perhaps I don’t need one of you.”

If all we do is agree with each other, then it doesn’t matter if there are ten people or ten million people. We will simply be part of a homogeneous whole, with no significant differences between us. Life would no longer be very interesting if we were all the same.

Love and hate, the same coin?

I know I can live and love and work and play with people of all stripes…except those who hate. Hatefulness is something I will not abide. And when I find tiny corners where it still resides within me, I eradicate it.

Are love and hate two sides of the same coin? I would like to think not, but I think they are the yin and yang of being living, emotional creatures. Love is about giving and sharing and accepting and building. Hate is about fear and being insular and tearing down.

I don’t want to be a destroyer; I choose love.

Etah

So to reinforce positive feelings, and turn away from violent, harsh, negative words that only create more fear and hate, I choose to continue reversing certain words. Hate is not nearly as powerful when called etah. Fear is not nearly as overpowering when it is called ra-ef. Love becomes a more powerful word when reversed, as evol is the beginning of evolution and growth.