I find awe in the places that just aren't for people. Around the coast, there are often those little rock stacks that are home to hundreds or thousands of seabirds, but the sea around them is far too rough for a human to swim to them and climb up on. There's nowhere that a helicopter could land, and while, theoretically, you could lower someone down from a helicopter down on a rope, they'd then be trying to get a grip on unstable rock and bird poo, so even that's bordering on impossible. Yet there are plants and animals making them their home. I find that kind of thing fills me with awe.
I love that. Yes, I feel the same. Have you read Cal Flyn's "Islands of Abandonment"? https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/607730/islands-of-abandonment-by-cal-flyn/ Currently shortlisted for the 2021 Wainwright Prize. It's about human places that are being reclaimed by the natural world - gorgeous read, really evocative (and at times eerie)...
Reminds me of something that's haunted me for two decades. There's a flat outcrop of rocks just beyond the lighthouse at the tip of Westray, at the northwestern extremity of Orkney off the top of Scotland. Beyond that point, there's nothing but ocean for hundreds of miles - and the cliff is an 80-metre sheer drop. We humans can stand on the cliff by the lighthouse, but there's no way down there onto that plateau of rock: no path, and it's cut off by tide, and I'm presuming the sea is too dangerous to approach by boat. Those rocks are a favourite spot for Orkney's seal popualtion - sometimes hundreds at a time. It's an amazing sight. And it's also an inhuman one. It's not for us. We don't go there. We can *see* it, but that's as close as we get.
And maybe we should have more places in the world like that - and also get used to feeling that *seeing* such a place is enough for us. That'd be a good lesson to learn on the way to being responsible stewards, not irresponsible conquerers, of the landscapes around us...
I also love rain! Especially walking in the rain. One thing I'm perennially curious about (I wanted to write about this in my book on walking but couldn't think of a way to fit it in so didn't end up researching it) was if our skin has been de-evolving. I can't count the number of times people cancel walks with me because it's raining or windy or a tiny bit too cold or hot. My kids have become hardened, but many others seem to be very sensitive to the slightest skin discomfort, and I even wonder about myself. Anyway. Yay to more awe and amazing-ness!
Agreed! While there's a cultural side to rain-aversion (maybe one with parallels in how "the countryside" has turned from this dark, terrible place filled with crime and Evil as per Thomas Hardy etc, into a place we all want to escape to), there's also the physiological side. I was fascinated by the implication here that our rain-wrinkled skin might actually be evolutionary "rain treads" harking from a pluvial period of our history: https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/why-do-our-fingers-and-toes-wrinkle-during-a-bath/
Oh, that is fascinating! I never thought about the wrinkling. I'm curious to find out more about what they say about nerve damage. I have Raynaud's, which causes my fingers and toes to go completely numb when they get cold. But that's circulation damage, not nerve, so it's probably different.
Every time I read about how non-civilized nature is full of darkness and evil, I think of all the Ann Radcliffe novels that informed Jane Austen's "Northanger Abbey" and it cracks me up.
The Rain book has been on my TBR pile forEVER. I have 3 piles: one of nonfiction research for whatever my current project is (right now, the commons and private property and separation from nature), one pile by my bed (almost all fiction, mostly sci fi or fantasy), and one other shelf that tends to be nonfiction but is more pleasure reading than research. Rain is there, along with Entangled Life, Wildwood, random others. That last pile is the one I have the least time for, though I try to integrate one into bedtime reading on occasion.
I want to suggest an update of the substack app. When reading Mike Snowden I consistently want to highlight some text and either express a “like” or leave a comment, but there isn’t such a functionality.
Quote:
“I used to think that the opposite of curiosity was “being incurious” (plus, always complaining you’re bored). In fact, it isn’t. It’s hopelessness. “
*LIKE*
Comment: this is profound. I’m deeply curious and I always believe that everything is possible. This statement connects indissolubly the two. That’s really awesome (in the sense you mention in another post of yours, it really puts me in a state of awe)
I find awe in the places that just aren't for people. Around the coast, there are often those little rock stacks that are home to hundreds or thousands of seabirds, but the sea around them is far too rough for a human to swim to them and climb up on. There's nowhere that a helicopter could land, and while, theoretically, you could lower someone down from a helicopter down on a rope, they'd then be trying to get a grip on unstable rock and bird poo, so even that's bordering on impossible. Yet there are plants and animals making them their home. I find that kind of thing fills me with awe.
I love that. Yes, I feel the same. Have you read Cal Flyn's "Islands of Abandonment"? https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/607730/islands-of-abandonment-by-cal-flyn/ Currently shortlisted for the 2021 Wainwright Prize. It's about human places that are being reclaimed by the natural world - gorgeous read, really evocative (and at times eerie)...
Reminds me of something that's haunted me for two decades. There's a flat outcrop of rocks just beyond the lighthouse at the tip of Westray, at the northwestern extremity of Orkney off the top of Scotland. Beyond that point, there's nothing but ocean for hundreds of miles - and the cliff is an 80-metre sheer drop. We humans can stand on the cliff by the lighthouse, but there's no way down there onto that plateau of rock: no path, and it's cut off by tide, and I'm presuming the sea is too dangerous to approach by boat. Those rocks are a favourite spot for Orkney's seal popualtion - sometimes hundreds at a time. It's an amazing sight. And it's also an inhuman one. It's not for us. We don't go there. We can *see* it, but that's as close as we get.
And maybe we should have more places in the world like that - and also get used to feeling that *seeing* such a place is enough for us. That'd be a good lesson to learn on the way to being responsible stewards, not irresponsible conquerers, of the landscapes around us...
I also love rain! Especially walking in the rain. One thing I'm perennially curious about (I wanted to write about this in my book on walking but couldn't think of a way to fit it in so didn't end up researching it) was if our skin has been de-evolving. I can't count the number of times people cancel walks with me because it's raining or windy or a tiny bit too cold or hot. My kids have become hardened, but many others seem to be very sensitive to the slightest skin discomfort, and I even wonder about myself. Anyway. Yay to more awe and amazing-ness!
Agreed! While there's a cultural side to rain-aversion (maybe one with parallels in how "the countryside" has turned from this dark, terrible place filled with crime and Evil as per Thomas Hardy etc, into a place we all want to escape to), there's also the physiological side. I was fascinated by the implication here that our rain-wrinkled skin might actually be evolutionary "rain treads" harking from a pluvial period of our history: https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/why-do-our-fingers-and-toes-wrinkle-during-a-bath/
Have you read Cynthia Barnett's rain book? https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00N6PET5S/
Also, wait - have I said this to you already? I'm sure I've mentioned these things to someone recently. #gettingold
Nope!
Oh, that is fascinating! I never thought about the wrinkling. I'm curious to find out more about what they say about nerve damage. I have Raynaud's, which causes my fingers and toes to go completely numb when they get cold. But that's circulation damage, not nerve, so it's probably different.
Every time I read about how non-civilized nature is full of darkness and evil, I think of all the Ann Radcliffe novels that informed Jane Austen's "Northanger Abbey" and it cracks me up.
The Rain book has been on my TBR pile forEVER. I have 3 piles: one of nonfiction research for whatever my current project is (right now, the commons and private property and separation from nature), one pile by my bed (almost all fiction, mostly sci fi or fantasy), and one other shelf that tends to be nonfiction but is more pleasure reading than research. Rain is there, along with Entangled Life, Wildwood, random others. That last pile is the one I have the least time for, though I try to integrate one into bedtime reading on occasion.
Incidentally this comment made me reconnect with my friend Alex Gregory the Olympic rowing champion. Thank you!
I want to suggest an update of the substack app. When reading Mike Snowden I consistently want to highlight some text and either express a “like” or leave a comment, but there isn’t such a functionality.
Quote:
“I used to think that the opposite of curiosity was “being incurious” (plus, always complaining you’re bored). In fact, it isn’t. It’s hopelessness. “
*LIKE*
Comment: this is profound. I’m deeply curious and I always believe that everything is possible. This statement connects indissolubly the two. That’s really awesome (in the sense you mention in another post of yours, it really puts me in a state of awe)
Thanks!!!