Airplanes and red shoes

Let's start with a riddle: What do aeroplanes, sugarlumps and red dancing shoes have in common?

No, sorry, you can't have the answer yet.

This blog is all about aeroplanes, and some worries I have...

Now don't get me wrong, I love flying. Rollercoasters and football matches do nothing for me: when I'm looking for excitement, the buzz is best when that juddering aircraft leaves the tarmac, and I'm flying off to somewhere new and exciting. And as for the feeling I get when I'm up in the sky looking down on the clouds. Well, if you ask me, it's quite obviously magic, and it's marvellous!

But a friend sent me this video, and it has made me think that maybe we're doing just a little bit too much flying. Have a quick look at it before you read on (if you haven't already) so you'll know what I'm talking about...

Now, at one level, I think the video is rather beautiful. It reminds me of other things, like ripples and magnetic field patterns and the dances that bees do to find their way home. But these are aeroplanes, not bees.

Do you know how many flights there are, globally, each day or each year? Go on, have a guess...

The most reliable source I could find on t'interweb said there were 77 million flights in 2008, and numbers are rising. 77 million each year?! That's about 211,000 flights each day! And there were 4.874 billion passengers... Which, frankly, is such a BIG number that my poor brain can't even process it.

Now, I could go off on all sorts of interesting diversions about global economics ('cos this many passengers equals one hell of big pile of dollars, dunnit?!) and international development inequalities ('cos look at how the flight-paths predominantly zoom in and out of the US and Europe) ... But the big question this video has raised for me is about saturation.

Saturation, I hear you say. What, if you please, is saturation? Or rather (given that my readers are educated people) what on earth has saturation got to do with air traffic?!

Let me explain myself...

Saturation is what you get when you try to add too much of something to something else. So, you can add sugarlumps to tea, and go on adding them for a long time, making your tea sweeter and sweeter... But there comes a point where your tea can't absorb anything else; and if you go on trying to add sugar, it won't dissolve, and you'll get a lumpy mess. You see, the tea has reached its 'sugar saturation point', and it just can't take any more.

There are lots of other examples where a little bit of something is fine, but too much is not. The odd whisky (or wine or beer or whatever your tipple) is great, but too much alcohol becomes a problem. And a little bit of food down the plughole is OK when you are washing up, but half a plateful will block your pipes!

I suppose I'm worried that we might just have reached our 'aeroplane saturation point'. At least, I'd like to know what or where this point is. Perhaps 55 million planes a year was OK, but 77 million isn't. Or perhaps 78 million is OK, but 79 million will be too many. Do you get my drift? It would be useful to know, wouldn't it, just how many aeroplanes the planet can cope with.

Now, at the risk of getting all earnest here, maybe we should be asking the same question about everything we do, at a personal and global level. Basically, the question is, how much is enough?

Do you know The Red Shoes fairytale? I may tell you more about it another time, but for now, all you need to know is that the central character loved her red shoes so much that she wore them too often, and went dancing in them when she shouldn't have, and then couldn't stop dancing until someone cut off her feet with an axe.

And that, in a nutshell, is what aeroplanes, sugarlumps and red dancing shoes have in common. When it comes to things we like, we're not good at knowing when enough is enough.

And no, I'm not being puritanical.

You know I have an interest in go-going with the flow, dontcha? Well, so, I'm not saying don't dance; I'm saying we need to know when to stop, if we want to go-go with joy. Dance all night if you like, but make sure you can stop when you want, without needing someone to chop your feet off!

So if any of you know how to work out the global aeroplane saturation point, please let the rest of us know!

Flow x

The turning of the year

Happy New Year!

It's the first of January, and this is my first post of 2009. I admit I have rather a hangover - a real head-thumping humdinger in fact - the first for about a decade - so forgive me, if my thinking seems a little wooly...

It seemed appropriate to reflect a little on the turning of the year. Last night, of course, we moved from one calendar year into the next. But the year is 'turning' in other ways, too. The winter solstice last week was the moment when the days began to grow longer and the nights began to grow shorter. And it's called the 'solstice' (as I can confidently tell you, because I did Latin at school!) because the sun (sol, from solus), which has been getting lower in the sky throughout the winter so far, stands still (stasis) for a few days before it begins to climb higher again.

'The turning of the year', indeed. I had a vague feeling that this must be a quotation, but I couldn't think of its source, so I googled the phrase. I was a little taken aback to find there are 57,400 results for that exact phrase, and nearly 39 million for 'turning' and 'year'! But I'm not easily daunted, so I followed up a couple of hunches.

First, I looked up Auld Lang Syne , but it's not in that. Then I thought of Shakespeare, but thanks to a rather nifty searchable text thingy I now know the phrase isn't his, either. I found it in a rather nice modern version of The Holly and the Ivy, but since this is very different from the old version I learned as a child, it can't be where I've heard it before.

My search uncovered a couple of lovely discoveries; they didn't help me with the origin of the phrase, but I was glad to have found them.

Someone has done lots of research on the symbolism of all the months of the year , and their post for Yule and the New Year made interesting reading:

"Yggdrasil (the world-tree whose roots were knotted in Hell and its boughs supported Heaven) ... This Tree of Life sheltered the Norns, another example of the triple-goddess: Urth (the past), Verdandi (the present), and Skuld (the future) who lovingly tended the tree. In Norse tradition, the festival of Yule (December 26-January 6) assigns 4 days to each of the Norns to honor the turning of the year. New Year’s day, the middle of this period has become a day when we remember the past and plan for the future, making resolutions to better our lives, and invoking the assistance of these triune sister goddesses".

Then the Guardian website had a page with some links to lovely poems relating to new year, including Emily Dickinson's 'Hope is a strange invention':

Hope is a strange invention
A Patent of the Heart
In unremitting action
Yet never wearing out

Of this electric Adjunct
Not anything is known
But its unique momentum
Embellish all we own.

Hope seems to me to be great theme for 2009. Let's face it, 2008 wasn't much fun, was it? And I certainly hope this year will be better.

Fun. Ah yes: one of my favourite themes!

I never did find the origin of the phrase, but thoughts of the year's revolution have now turned to resolution. And I am resolved that this year will be much more fun-filled than last, because I agree with Tom Robbins:

"Fun! If others might find that appraisal of his life shallow, frivolous, so be it. To him, it seemed now to largely have been some form of play. And he vowed that in future he would strive to keep that sense of play more in mind, for he'd grown convinced that play - more than piety, more than charity or vigilance - was what allowed human beings to transcend evil".

And may 2009 be full of fun and play for you, too!

Flow x

An important truth about girls in red hoods (and wolves)

I went to a story-telling event last night. The Devil's Violin was a fabulous, powerful mix of tale and music. Its passions were part gypsy, part Celtic, part Eastern European... and all magic and mystery!

It reminded me that, though I have been telling tales to tots this autumn, it has been quite a while since I told one of my grown-up stories - one of my Fairy Tales for Middle Age.

So...

Are you sitting comfortably?

Once upon a time (you know how it goes), there was a girl who lived on the edge of a forest with her mother, not far from her granny’s house. This girl was young and pretty and cool, and she had a top with a red hood – and it was not just any old red, either, but a fabulous, flaming crimson!

Now, a red hoody may be okay to wear in the city (wicked!) but it’s a bit of a liability for a girl in a rural area. It makes her rather too conspicuous. We know for sure that this lass is going to attract attention, and probably get herself into a spot or two of bother. R-E-D spells Trouble, with a capital T.

One day, Red’s mother sent her to her granny’s with some lunch in a basket, and some stern Laying-Down-the-Law words about staying on the path, avoiding poisonous mushrooms and all sorts of other dangers (yada yada, yeah yeah - you’ve heard it all before!) and Not Talking To Strangers.

Well, you know, Ma could have saved her breath, ‘cos Red – like any girl dressed so symbolically – couldn’t, or wouldn’t, quash her curiosity. Everything caught her attention: birds and butterflies, spiders and slugs, favourite flowers and unfamiliar fungi, strange smells and intriguing noises through the trees. She soon wandered off the path …

… And, pretty soon, of course, Red met a WOLF.

The Wolf was huge, hairy and scary, sharp-toothed and dangerous … but also (you know it’s true!) very interesting … and more-than-a-little exciting. So Red just couldn’t resist it: she chatted with the Wolf. And where’s the harm, eh, in just a few words … and maybe a teeny, weeny bit of flirtation?

And the Wolf (did I say he was smart, too?) didn’t ask any suspicious questions or make any inappropriate suggestions at all. So Red was soon happy to tell him exactly what she was doing and where she was going. You may say she was naïve; but personally, I’d say she rather wanted to Play with Fire …

Soooo … Red and the Wolf agreed to race. And before long (let’s cut to the chase like the Wolf) granny is gone – all eaten up – and Red and the Wolf are going through that well-known What-Big-Eyes/Ears/Teeth-You-Have routine.

And there’s Red, leaning over the bed - leaning over the wolf - staring intently into his deep, dark eyes …

Just beginning to wonder (I’ll bet!) whether teeth like that can possibly have Honourable Intentions …

… When – TA RAAA! …

In rushes the Woodcutter – dressed for action - axe in hand – and chops off the Wolf’s head! Whizz, thump!

“You’re safe now!” crows the Woodcutter. (And perhaps we can forgive him for feeling just a little bit smug and self-satisfied, under the circumstances).

However …

“You idiot!” retorted Red (unexpectedly, you may think). “You blithering, blinking idiot!” (tho' I’m afraid she may have been less polite). “I had the situation totally under control!”

“But - but -” spluttered the woodcutter, inarticulately.

“Wolves get a bad press,” the furious Red continued, “They’re not as tough as they make out. I could’ve handled him! And in any case – it was my problem, and you should’ve left me to sort it out!

“I – I – ” spluttered the woodcutter, still lost for words (and let’s face it, he’s only a secondary character, and he’s lucky to have any kind of speaking part at all).

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you people need to learn to deal with their own mistakes?!” demanded Red.

But the woodcutter (who had never watched daytime TV or read Iron John) just scratched his head and said nothing.

“Don’t you realise,” Red ranted on, “How important it is for me to learn to deal with wolves myself?! After all, my family has a history of dysfunctional behaviour when it comes to wolves, y’know – and I don’t want to repeat their mistakes!

"My Mum can’t cope with ‘em at all: she’s too scared even to leave the path! And look at Granny! She never learned to handle ‘em either: she was so scared she took to her bed! But she couldn’t even recognise one when it crawled in beside her, and you know what happened to her!”

And Red turned sadly to gaze at the undeniably nasty mess on the bed.

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful”, she said at last, “But wolves can’t be avoided. You have to learn to deal with them. And now that you have deprived me of an Important Learning Experience, I am just gonna have to go out and find more wolves, aren’t I? It’s a hassle”.

So she did.

And although we shall never know what happened to her, we can be pretty sure some of it was Trouble, and I think it’s quite possible she got eaten in the end. But it's certain that things happened to her along the way – which is, without a doubt, what any girl with a Red Hood wants.

Flow x

© 2008