Shifting thoughts

After a series of unusually hot days, this morning was a welcome change. It was 66 on the deck when I opened the doors, and a cool breeze wafted through. I took my coffee outside and read the news. If we can believe the politicians an infrastructure bill—a bipartisan infrastructure bill is about to be passed. On the other hand, the House left on vacation without extending the eviction moratorium. What fresh hell is this?

I sat down at my desk and worked on a poem. That's not something I normally do; this one had started as a paragraph. But for some reason I thought it might work better in poetic form, so I spent about an hour fiddling with it. I don't know if it's better or if I completely lost its meaning, but it was fun to fiddle. There's nothing better than letting your mind roam over patterns and the mysteries of arcane grammar and the rule of three. Then I went for a walk.

It was still pleasantly cool and there weren't many people about. I stopped to admire a Rose of Sharon and a fat bumblebee slipped past my nose and buried himself deep in the heart of an open flower pining for a pollinator. The bee led me back to the fires in Turkey. 

A friend, a former Bodrum resident, had earlier texted news that the holiday villages surrounding the bay were being evacuated due to fires. I went online and discovered that conflagrations were forcing evacuations all along the Mediterranean coast, from Bodrum, to Marmaris, to Antalya and beyond. 

How did I get from a bumblebee in a blossom to fires in Turkey? Because the bee—and the rarity of seeing one so close—had reminded me again of the well trimmed forests of Turkey's coastal mountains. I clearly saw the steep hills that make fighting fire so dangerous and the hundreds of bee hives scattered in the mountains between Bodrum and Göcek, where we lived for a year. I remembered peasant women lunching in the forest shade surrounded by their colorful skirts; women from whom we no doubt bought some of that honey.

Walking home I recognized the blessing of having time to let your mind wander. It is a great loss to humanity and the planet that people are led to believe that money and fame and impressive titles are more important than having space and time. Time to fiddle with a poem or space to admire a blossom. 

Work and focus are necessary of course, but I think we've overstated their value. Imagine telling Plato, Galileo, Newton, Darwin, Franklin, Edison, Curie or so many others, to sit 40 hours a week at a desk while being constantly interrupted by a phone call or text. Would they have dreamt their world changing dreams?

I see subtle hints that our attitudes are changing. I hope so.