Tuesday, July 8, 2014

I CAN WATCH THE SUN RISE ON MY SMARTPHONE

So really, I have to ask myself, why go outside at all? Everything I need is in my hand--well, almost everything, except for human affection, food, wine, friends, and my dog.  But those are small necessities and easy to fix with my smartphone apps.



I remember when my kids were small reading the "Berenstein Bears" books to them.  One was about the week Mama Bear decided they should do without TV.  Papa Bear, in those ridiculous pants which stretched tight across his bottom, querulously asked his wife, "But how will I know what the weather is?"  She pointed to the window and told him to stick his hand outside.  "Ass-hat," she probably thought, but this being a children's book, did not say.

So I don't need to go outside anymore.  Think how much better it is for my aging skin to not expose it to all those dangerous UV rays.  And ticks.  Also biting creatures and psychotic, diseased bats.  Now, as I lounge on my couch sipping coffee in the morning, I press "Yahoo Weather" and with bated breath, wait for it to appear on my screen.  "There it is!" I murmur, looking at the image to make sure it is accurate and not showing a snowstorm in mid-June or hail when it is perfectly sunny out.  You have to watch Yahoo.

Then I scroll down to catch the forecast for the week, so I'll know if I dare go outside or not.  Also included in the forecast are the festive plump raindrops predicting rain for four separate times of the day.  Do I need to know all that?  At the bottom, below some weird map which screws with my brain, I see the sun digitally bursting out of the left-hand horizon and sailing merrily up the arc which represents the sun's progress through the day.  Why doesn't Yahoo show the Sun God, blonde hair streaming, racing through the sky in a chariot?  If you are going to do this sort of thing, let's get some Greek mythology in there.



In a happy, satisfied voice I declare to my husband, "Look, honey!  The sun doesn't set until 8:27!"  He nods and murmurs something about how great it is to have such a stretch of daylight.

But there is a part of me that is not satisfied.  In fact it is deeply, whiningly dissatisfied.  We should be out on blankets in the field (watch out for ticks!) watching the day go by. We should lie on our backs, seeing the clouds sail overhead, telling each other which shapes remind us of whales, unicorns, dragons, and one misshapen one which resembles Dick Cheney.  We should be sitting on the deck as the sun sets. sipping good IPA or a crisp Sauvignon Blanc, waiting for the bats to inscribe arcs around the house, looking for the first firefly who insists on appearing before total darkness, eager to get a jump--literally--on any nearby female.

Where did we go wrong?  I want to be held by the rhythms of the earth, the sky, sun and moon, birds and insects, and anything firmly tied to the natural world.  I want to stick my hand out the window to see if it is raining and share the news with whoever is nearby.  I want to be human in an old way--the way of delight, worship, and sanity.  And if that means no TV and wearing odd blue overalls covering a big ass, then so be it.  It's a decent trade.