It’s still winter

In September 2021 I wrote, Can’t You Hear the Whumpfhing.  And darn, I am still hearing the whumpfing. Less subtle. More frequent. Increasingly frightening.

It has been an active avalanche season here in Colorado. And, there are several big snow storms happening in our mountains as I write. It’s April. It’s still winter. So yes, there is whumpfhing. And on top of that, continuing my original metaphor, there are any number of things happening daily causing me to feel as I did when I wrote this original post three and a half years ago. So there is nothing better to do than repost.

It’s a good time for me to say, in advance, this is not a political blog. And if you only want to see it that way, you can stop reading. This blog is not the place for any kind of divisiveness. This is the place to reflect and feel. To pause and consider the human condition. How we treat one another. How we make it all a better place. And how we make it through the seemingly unbearable times, the valleys, the potentially deadly snow, the dormancy, the swirling chaos and the grief.

So I haven’t changed anything below. From September 2021. What do you think? How do you feel? How are you living with it?

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[September 5, 2021] – Warning. I feel angry today. Some days, I don’t want to be here. I don’t mean not alive versus dead, here. I mean, here, in the midst of suffering, violence, addiction, poverty, disease, hatred, ignorance, natural disasters. The here that we find ourselves in on this planet. I am angry about it. I understand that each of us can play our own small part in making our world a better place to be. I will always believe that, preach it, and do it. But in truth, there are days when I feel weary. And I want to run away.

I have learned in my professional education on change management that, generally speaking, humans get more stressed by changes that occur in their personal lives than large scale, global events.

This is because on a day-to-day basis, things happening outside of our local purview don’t generally require us to respond. Therefore, they don’t take up as much space in our thoughts, so to speak. One of the ways I interpret this is that we can bury our head in the sand. We can live in denial. We can say, well it’s not my problem. But in my opinion, right now, there are a lot of humans who should be and need to be putting in a little more effort.

I learned a new word in an avalanche awareness class last year. Whumpf. This word has been adopted as a technical avalanche term describing the sound of a collapsing snowpack. For example, “we got a lot of whumpfing today,” or, “the snowpack whumpfed like rolling thunder just before it caught us.” Avalanche.org describes it as “the sound of nature screaming in your ear that the snowpack is unstable.”

The teacher in my class described it as not only a sound, but a feeling, a knowing of pending doom.

I have to say, there is an awful lot of whumpfing going on right now, and it has nothing to do with snow. The ethereal side of my being tells me, stay calm. We are all living out our destiny. So on the whole, the haters, the dumb assess, the spoilers of the planet, they are on their path, just like me. But when my brain takes over, I feel angry and helpless, and I don’t accept that suffering caused specifically by the actions of others is in any way acceptable. I want to grab the collective by the shoulders. Shake them. Tell them to just stop. Can’t you hear the whumpfing?

That’s what makes me want to run.  I do know, however, if I am going to be part of the solution that I need to find my own balance. First take care of myself, in other words, ensure that my own actions cause minimal or no harm to others and the planet. Second, help to educate. Third, take time to retreat so that ultimately, I have more to give.

Reading this beautiful poem by Wendall Berry was enough to help me take a deep breath today and find a better way to handle this anger. It showed itself to me at a really good time. And, you know I believe that if we pay attention, we get what we need when we need it.

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

So when I feel like running, I will continue to find what I need in the peace of wild things. Such a beautiful description of where I would like us all to be. But, if we can’t be there everyday, remember this equally profound description of whumpf – the sound of nature screaming in your ear, and let’s try so much harder to be better and do better by the world and those who occupy our planet.