The Balance

Humans are an interesting lot. I should know; I am one. We want hot soup, but when we eat it, we insist on cooling it off. We want a Slurpee, but complain when we suffer from brain freeze. When it’s winter, we wish it were summer, and vice versa. We enjoy hunting animals, but have to avoid extinguishing a species altogether. We desire to see wolves come back from the brink of extinction, but have to take care that the wolves aren’t killing everything in sight. It’s a mad world, and we humans have taken it upon ourselves to try and create an elusive balance in this world. When it comes to the environment, we haven’t exactly shown that we are capable of maintaining equilibrium. But we can certainly work towards progress and finding the perfect balance between civilization and our planet.

True balance requires the voicing of hundreds, thousands, perhaps millions of opinions and expertise. Balance cannot be established through the dictations of one or two people. President Franklin Roosevelt understood this as he instituted his “Brain Trust” – a group of advisers who were experts in their fields, including an author and agricultural economist. Many of his decisions were made after careful consideration of his advisers’ input. The American government is designed to work similarly, but on a much larger scale. Every citizen is allowed to voice his or her concerns to government officials in the hopes that his or her words facilitate positive change.

Legislators are currently involved in deciding the fates of both wolves and deer. The wolf population is on the rise and there are many who suffer livestock losses because of them. The mule deer population is on the decline and there are those who claim they suffer, such as hunters, because there aren’t enough deer to go around. In both instances, we humans seek to control nature: in one case, by culling numbers; in the other, by allowing a species to flourish, simply to cut it down again for sport. I’m not condoning or condemning the one or the other; I’m merely commenting on the neurotic necessity we humans possess for control.

It is hard for me to take one side or the other on the wolf debate. I have loved wolves since I was 12, and despite their predatory and vicious nature I admire how they work together in a pack and survive against daunting odds. But wolves are killing domesticated animals that provide our communities with necessary commodities: wool, milk, cheese, meat, etc. Should our government pass a bill rescinding the current protection afforded wolves, I will not be angry. I believe in humankind enough to know that, should the gray wolf population dwindle again, we will ensure that a sort of wavering balance is kept. But only as long as sensible people are continually involved in the process.

I would encourage everyone who has strong feelings toward the various issues surrounding nature to take part in the democratic process and voice your opinion. It’s not enough, though, to say, “I hate wolves. They should all be killed.” Find the reason behind your opinion and discover how to show others why you feel the way you do. With enough support, your opinions could help shape the fate of wolves, deer, or even us humans.

The Big Question

It is extremely difficult to live in Utah and avoid the stereotypical judgment. You know: as a Utah resident, you must be an avid skier or snowboarder. Much like all Hawaiians are surfers, or everybody in Nevada is a gambler, or to be homeless in New York automatically makes you a great chess player. I’m sure there are plenty of people residing in Utah who do not fit the skier/snowboarder bill. Right? I personally wouldn’t know, but I think I’ve got some friends who don’t participate in either. Actually, now that I think about it, all of my friends have done one or the other once or twice in their lives. Maybe it’s true; all Utahns are ski/snowboard bums. So, I suppose the only real question to ask a true Utahn is: ski or snowboard?

There are some people who find joy in both sports, and they truly don’t care which one they are doing, as long as they are on a mountain of snow with something slick under their feet. And then there are those who are adamant that one was ordained of God and the other was spawned by Satan. As a purist, I sympathize with these folks; skiing is definitely divine, while snowboarding is fit only for angelic outcasts. Believe me, I’ve been on both sides. Perhaps I’m biased because I was brought up as a skier, but I simply can’t get into a sport that requires a person to bind their feet to a miniature toboggan (Yes, I have control issues).

My father tried teaching me how to ski when I was six or seven. He told me we were going to the “bunny” hill. I was sorely disappointed when, after three hours, not one bunny had revealed itself for my viewing pleasure. And my father was sorely disappointed when, after three hours, I was still refusing to let go of his snow pants. As years went by I lost my fears and began exploring techniques outside of the snowplow. My old man regained his confidence in my ability as a skier and he and I would go night skiing from time to time, a special treat, and to this day the sight of a series of lights along a ski trail makes me feel like I’m home.

For the longest time I resisted the urge to engage in snowboarding. Ultimately, I gave in to the promptings of a girl. She told me it would be fun. She was right. It was fun. But I felt so dirty afterwards. What had I done? What would my father say? After my third stint with the sport, the guilt was enough. I quickly returned to the comfort zone of skiing and renounced the foreign pleasures of snowboarding.

Dad, if you’re reading this, I swear I’ve made restitution by skiing twenty trails for every one I snowboarded. I’m sorry I allowed myself to be lured by the Sirens of the snowboarding realm. You’ll be happy to hear, though, that no matter how hard I try, I can’t hide or forsake my skier’s heritage. I promise to teach my son of the divinity of skiing and the baseness of snowboarding and hope that he can avoid following in my snowboarding boot steps.

For everyone else reading this, you have to decide: ski or snowboard? Some people may ask, “Elvis or the Beatles?” or “Harley or Suzuki?” But for Utahns there is only one question. One that could spell out your eternal fate. So choose wisely.

Ice-Skating

There are few sports that scare me, but ice-skating is one of them. I’ve only been ice-skating a few times in my life, but every time I do, my fears resurface. My first fear is that a skate blade, whether my own or someone else’s, will somehow make contact with my jugular or my stomach or some other vital part of my body. I’m not all that great at keeping my balance while standing on top of two very thin pieces of metal, and I often imagine myself falling on top of or sliding into said thin pieces of metal.

My second fear is that I won’t be able to stop when I need to. I can’t just lean my foot forward and push a brake against the ground, like roller-skating. When I start ice-skating too fast for my comfort, I typically attempt to grab onto the rink wall, effectively giving myself whiplash and further compounding my fear of ice-skating and speed. The other option is to ease my body down low enough to the ground that I can “fall” and “slide” and not injure myself, but, as I’ve already stated, then I have to worry about random skate blades slashing my skin open.

My third fear is that I’ll fall through the ice. Interestingly enough, I’ve never actually been skating on a body of water where I would need to worry about that. But that doesn’t decrease my fear any. The fact is: I’m on ice and ice is made of water, therefore leaving the possibility that some of the bottom ice has melted and created its own body of water. There’s probably no way I’d ever try to skate on a lake or pond. Doesn’t make much sense to me that any human would wear something on his or her feet that slowly whittles away the thin layer of ice between him or her and the freezing water and the starving fish (and horrid sea monsters).

My fourth and final fear is that if I find myself actually enjoying ice-skating, that I will eventually have to begin wearing skin-tight, spandex-thin, sparkly costumes in order to continue to enjoy it (much like bicyclists all have to wear the tight, shorty-shorts and expensive sunglasses). I don’t have a problem wearing something like that, but I’m willing to bet that everyone else around me would.

It takes some real guts to take up the sport of ice-skating. Seriously, the way some of those figure skaters twirl and spin and flip, a person has to have an iron gut not to puke in the middle of all of that. I can barely stand Colossus’ double loop at Lagoon; I don’t know how anyone doesn’t get all woozy after turning him or herself into a human top.

I have two nieces, one three and the other almost six, who are world-class ice-skaters (according to their parents), and I’m convinced that they are simply too naïve or foolhardy to know the dangers of ice-skating as I have detailed previously. That’s okay, though, because one of my little life-philosophies is that we can all learn from our mistakes, and it’s only a matter of time before my nieces realize why their big uncle Gabe refuses to stray more than two feet from the rink wall and won’t go faster than 2 m.p.h.

Back to Basics

No matter how technologically advanced and civilized we become as humans, nature will always possess the power to fascinate and inspire us with its simplicity and beauty. As the Industrial Revolution was taking root in England way back when, people already began to feel the tug of the countryside, calling them to leave behind the hustle and bustle of the sooty city. Today a few of us dream of finding ourselves in a dead zone so we can enjoy a respite from our cell phones, if only for an hour or two.

I’m convinced that the attraction many of us have for the great outdoors stems largely from our want to only be concerned with our immediate surroundings. Newspapers and other media present us with new horror stories every day, and sometimes it’s hard not to feel like the world is spinning out of control around us. Many of our jobs require us to interact with people from near and far and it is easy to be overwhelmed with the amount of information we have to deal with on a daily basis. Nature can offer a brief lull from all of that. Outdoor activities tend to help break up the worrisome black clouds in our life and allow the bright rays of hope and optimism in. We can forget about the various troubles around the world as we discover hidden places of refuge on a ski hill, or a nature walk, or near the perfect fishing hole.

Have you ever felt like you couldn’t take a break because too much depends on your direct involvement, whether at home, at work or anywhere else? If so, you should definitely take a vacation. For three weeks, at least. Force people to cope without you and they’ll find a way to do so. If you think you can’t do it, you need to do it. The typical vacation whisks you away from your familiar, humdrum, everyday existence and throws you into a world that offers new sights and experiences, often including enticing natural surroundings that will appeal to your sense of adventure and/or beauty. Consider how much nature affects your choice of a vacation destination. Would you rather stay in a hotel next to an oil refinery or a beach?

Sometimes I need to escape from everything around me and I don’t have the time to take a trip, though. In such cases I improvise. For example, I turn off my cell phone, television, video game machine, etc. and build a little fire in my backyard fire pit. Suddenly I am only concerned with what is immediately around me: my family, my dogs, and my fire that won’t stay lit because I’m using wet wood (I keep the lighter fluid handy). Like magic, conversations replace phone calls, stories become more interesting than the boob tube, and keeping the fire going is more challenging than Super Mario Bros (thank goodness for lighter fluid).

When the weight of the world becomes too much for you, learn to simplify your life and take a step back from everything you are involved in. As the son of a raging workaholic, I’ve discovered the restorative properties that nature and vacations can offer to an overworked human being. Whether you take a 15-minute walk during work, or a weeklong cruise, you’ll discover that nature and breaks from the rat race strengthen your ability to handle the less enjoyable parts of life.