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Words without thoughts never to heaven go

Words are wonderful creatures, don’t you think? Almost with minds of their own, they have evolved to keep pace with the world and exapted to fit the need, expanding and wrinkling under pressure, but never succumbing. Sometimes they are inert -fillers of uncomfortable silences- sometimes agents, sometimes recipients, they seek to influence whoever happens upon them. Are we then, as speakers, also bits of paper upon which things are written, cut and pasted whenever the need arises? Is that even possible in real life?

I suppose I’m thinking of the profound effect of words in our world: the words chosen, the inflections given, the nuances of their reception. Many systems -words included- can seem to regulate themselves, though: through feedback loops perhaps, or through the context in which they are embedded. Of course, isn’t that the way with most things? Effects are wedded to the situation, and recognition of this is a powerful tool: the world is a story, and if we follow the twists and turns of the plot it becomes clear that we, too, are intricately embedded in its action; we are, in effect, not only the plot, we are the network.

So, it seems to me that the words we use about nature, about our relationship with it, about our problems with it, should be chosen carefully to reflect these concerns, not exacerbate them. After all, we would not blame someone for their illness, nor would we likely ignore them if they asked, even indirectly, for assistance. I would think that our words to them and about their condition should reflect our willingness to help; anything else would suggest we didn’t care… Words matter.

Of course, as an elder living alone with his books and musings, my usual exposure to the prevailing zeitgeist are the Wednesday morning coffee meetings at the Food Court with the guys. We are all retired and desperate to share our opinions about the world now that we don’t have access to an entrapped audience at the workplace.

We are a motley crew to be sure -and especially so, because unlike the office, attendance is voluntary, and largely dependent on spousal demands. Today, as I headed towards the noisy table with my bagel and coffee, I realized I was walking into the middle of an argument. Jeremy, a retired teacher wearing his usual old-man pants that hung like shower curtains from his legs, and his habitually wrinkled black Grateful Dead sweatshirt was waving his arms and shouting at Lewis, an elderly, retired judge who usually tolerated no nonsense.

“But come on Lewis, you have to admit that climate change is linked to unbridled capitalism!”

Lewis just stared quietly at him, and when he assumed that Jeremy had wrapped up his closing argument, shook his head slowly in response. “While I will admit that they both are serious, I’m not convinced they are other than associative; certainly not causative…”

Jeremy, ever the dramatist, threw his hands in the air. “You’re hiding behind a legal framework not designed to cope with emerging disasters, Lewis.”

Lewis quietly shook his head. “I’m hiding behind logic my friend: you haven’t proved to me that the two are linked other than temporally… Just because there may be a higher crime rate in neighbourhoods where there are a lot of broken windows, does not imply causation…”

I could see Jeremy’s face becoming more and more flushed. “You’ve got to call a spade a spade, eh? We have to recognize how our excessive consumption is leading to a climate catastrophe. We cannot afford to dampen our words to be polite. ‘My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it will break.’ ”

Lewis smiled at that. “Well, if you’re going to quote Shakespeare at me –The Taming of the Shrew, I believe- then let me reply in kind with a quote from Othello: ‘Men in rage strike those that wish them best.’ ”

Jeremy was having none of it though. “But Lewis, don’t you see that by softening the blow, you’re deflecting the argument away from the crisis we’re in? This is not a time to take our eyes off the goal!”

Suddenly, they both seemed to notice that I had sat down at their table like an innocent returned from abroad. “We shouldn’t try to soften the effects of climate change, should we G?” Jeremy just would not give up, although by now Lewis was already rolling his eyes.

I smiled and leaned forward in my seat. “I know how serious climate change is, Jer, but do you want to know what gives me hope…?”

Jeremy shrugged, obviously unwilling to cede his point to a newcomer with an uninvited smile on his face. “What…?” he said after a theatrical sigh.

I had a sip of my coffee and sat back again in my raconteur pose. “Do you remember that little pond in front of the house?”

“The one your ex built…?”

I nodded. “We originally put water lilies and a few goldfish in it, but over the years it gradually evolved…” I could tell by his expression that Jeremy knew it was because of my divorce, but I pretended not to notice. “The plants changed for some reason, and the fish disappeared. Anyway, new plants -big long-leafed ones- began to take over the pond and I thought maybe adding a few more goldfish might trim their roots or something.

“Then, one day when I was crossing a creek near the lake, I saw a sign on the bridge with a picture on it warning about yellow flag irises, and they looked identical to my pond plants…”

“A warning? Like one of those ‘wanted’ posters they used to put in post offices?” Lewis was intrigued.

I nodded. “Yes, they’re an invasive species in this province. The sign explained that ‘Several hundreds of plants may be connected underwater due to the extensive root system, which creates a thick mat that damages wildlife habitat, reduces water flow, and crowds out native vegetation.’”It seemed an important consequence, so I’d memorized it…

“At any rate, the sign suggested smothering them with a tarp rather than risking pulling them out and spreading their seeds even further to nearby creeks. So, ever the eco-warrior…” -I could see Jeremy rolling his eyes at this- “…I tarped the pond. You have to leave it covered for months, apparently. And since I hadn’t seen any fish for almost a year, and the water levels in the pond were already so low after the summer drought, I felt I’d done the right thing. I emptied out what little water I could see remained, but I still couldn’t dig out the roots. I bought a tarp which didn’t quite cover the pond’s edges, but everything looked dry, and so I’ve left it on now for three or four months already.”

Jeremy was getting impatient with my story. “So what has that got to do with climate change, G? You already mentioned the drought we had last summer. Getting rid of a few plants isn’t exactly tackling the problem,” he added, shaking his head disapprovingly.

My smile grew. “We’ve had a lot of rain since the autumn…”

Jeremy let loose a noisy sigh and sent his eyes over to my face to accuse me of something -climate inaction perhaps. “Your point, G…?”

“Yesterday after coming back from a walk in the rain, I saw something wonderful on the edge of the pond where rain had collected…”

Lewis, suddenly interested, stared at me. “Saw…?”

“A goldfish,” I replied, almost unable to explain as my smile expanded across my cheeks.

Jeremy started shaking his head again. “I repeat, what has that got to do with dealing with climate change? Why is the goldfish wonderful…?”

When I’m excited, I often can’t control my enthusiasm, and I started waving my arms. “Don’t you see, Jer? Although it was only a small thing, dealing with the rogue irises made me feel as if I was doing something selfless to combat climate change; it’s not all sacrifice; sometimes there is an unexpected gift for your efforts.

“I mean, it felt good dealing with the plants, but it felt wonderful seeing that fish… Like a reward for a job well done… Maybe we need to think about the benefits that might result from our actions rather than the problems if we do nothing…”

Lewis smiled, and Jeremy stopped shaking his head.

A line from Shakespeare came to me: “It seems to me that ‘one good deed dying tongueless slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages’…”

Lewis’ smile spread across his face and his eyes twinkled. Jeremy just stared at me, looking confused at the quote. “Cymbeline?” he guessed.

It was my turn to shake my head. “The Winter’s Tale.” My contribution to Shakespeare in the Court -we’re not just a bunch of old have-beens, you know…

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