THE MORNING ESCAPE INTO THE WORLD OF THE BOG

After listening to the news this morning, and wondering aloud to my wife, Suzanne, if we were approaching another world war, with all the profound change in the Middle East, and then learning of the terrible earthquake in New Zealand, I feel it as almost an act of cowardice to amble down this frozen path, of The Bog, toward my Muskoka Walden.

Even as a die-hard news seeker, there are times when it all seems too much, and in this new age of citizen reporting, putting us in the news only minutes after a serious event, we are placed much closer to actuality than ever before. It’s a lot harder for any one to say “I didn’t hear about it,” these days. Whether you listen to the news regularly or not, with the “breaking news” interventions throughout the day, even if all you want to hear is music, there’s simply no avoiding the truth of the hour, realities of the day, and implications for every day after that......all thanks to an expanding media force, in the hands of citizens around the world......certainly a most remarkable change from even five years ago. Some would say it facilitated all of the Middle East region rebellions ongoing. From New Zealand this morning, only hours after the powerful earthquake, the world knows about the extent of the catastrophe......not because of the work submitted by reporters and television crews but by images captured by ordinary folks with camera phones etc., who want the global community to know about the tragic turn of events. Hopefully the increased exposure will draw aid faster.

It is an incredible late winter morning here, with the bright sunlight dazzling off the snowscape, and the long shadows reaching out over the bog, from the naked hardwood stands on the embankment. There are woodpeckers whacking old pine trees in quest of breakfast-bugs, and the chickadees are chirping away at a nearby birdfeeder. The squirrels are making rather merry in the tree tops, and venerable old crows call out loudly over the still sleepy neighborhood. All is well in this woodland oasis. Looking out over this winter scene in transition, watching daily, as I have been,...... the sun becoming stronger. Melt water running beneath the canopy, now heavier and capable of eroding the ice from the underside, as the warmer temperatures by afternoon, will melt away the top layer of ice. There is a lot going on here at this moment. It is the decline of one season, the age I feel in my old bones, and the gradual emergence of a spring atmosphere. The temperature will rise well above freezing, for the next several days, and much of this canopy will be fractured and concentrated over the unfrozen ground.

Standing out here, admiring the natural grandeur afforded these Muskoka woodlands, I’m still immersed by worry, about the course of world events, and how the ill effects will reverberate here.....as they will without question, throughout this more intertwined global economy. There are people in this community with family and friends in New Zealand, who will be devastated at this moment, worrying about their well being. Yes, there is a feeling of guilt standing here now, benefitting from this peace on earth, in this gentle, calming sanctuary. Yet there’s something important within this tranquil place, some wonderful aura that attaches to your soul, and makes you appreciate the spirit within, this land, your heart, to make peace with whatever difficulties arise. The recognition that the spirit is strong and dynamic to the changes we face.....if we allow it to rise to the occasion. How many of the self-professed weak, have risen to huge accomplishment, when faced with enormous challenges. I have great faith in the human spirit to prevail.....despite what evilness it encounters.

I wish, at times, during these woodland hikes, I had the privilege of chatty company. What a pleasure it would be to have Thoreau to opine with, while staring out over this beautiful snow-laden landscape. How marvelous, to have Robert Frost for a journey through these snowy woods. Imagine the insight, having writers like Washington Irving, and Charles Dickens kicking along this same trail, discussing affections for life as art; their thoughts about the role of tragedy and epic change upon the international landscape. While I might prefer the old Bards to help me understand, and prevail upon my own writing with insight and illumination, I will gladly seek the word of all those sage folks, who have wisdom-enhanced outlooks upon the future.....and who have dealt with adversity....and been inspired by its essence of success. When they look out at this future change of season, they see and respect the inherent power of change, and react accordingly to circumstance. If there is a flood as a direct result of this change of season, they will know how to react in advance. Their wisdom has allowed for a pro-active way of living, expecting that at any time, adversity might bump into them again, as a matter of rightful, natural course......not as a perceived inconvenience, but as reality collides perpetually with vulnerable mortality. That’s life for you!

It is a refreshing start to the day, to wander these narrow, frozen paths, to nowhere in particular. It is as haunted as it is enchanting, as truthful as it is mysterious, and yet the truth is clear......that the bitter cold of winter is in decline, and the days will continue to get warmer....... and the melt water will increase the stress, and rage beyond our view, along all these little creeks and waterfalls, criss-crossing the uneven lowland. It is the kind of scene Tom Thomson might have found interesting for an art panel. The kind of poetic place on earth, that might have inspired E.J. Pratt, G.D. Roberts or Bliss Carmen, no strangers to Muskoka. Maybe I will be the only serious observer of this place today. Maybe even tomorrow, except for the few youngsters who venture into the bog as a minor adventure, on the way home from school. I can tell they’ve been here because of the cast-off apples and bananas, half-eaten sandwiches and cracker crumbs dropped into the old snow. I’m just glad they have taken a few minutes at least, to visit this wondrous place......where crows and blue jays call out through the day, hawks sweep overhead, deer and moose amble into the lowland on warm and sunny afternoons. It is a place of spirituality.....a place to re-awaken to the power of nature.....a place for non-poets to be poetic when no one is looking.....a place to hear the voices in the wind, a place to sing what you wish to sing......a place to be contented and at peace. Away from the news for awhile, but never distant from an actuality....we simply can not escape. Reality can not be out-run. Even here. Although, admittedly, I have often tried.