by Christina Carson
I
recently finished reading Beyond the
Black Stump by Nevil Shute, a book written in 1956. The allure of Shute's novels appear as a conundrum in current time where writers are instructed to grab their reader’s interest and keep a
pace in their work that drives and pounds its way to the end of the story. Shute wrote simple stories about
people and their interactions in the face of human dilemmas. And the “thrill”
of each story is the recurring awareness of the protagonist to understand
and then proceed by doing the right thing. Sound prosaic? Well, Nevil Shute
was a not a prosaic individual, but a brilliant man, a visionary even and someone
who grew to deeply understand the human condition. I always come away from his
novels with something to chew on and Beyond
the Black Stump was no exception.
The
action in the story takes place in both a remote piece of Australia called the
Lunatic and a quaint small town in Oregon. What was masterfully presented is
what this blog is about, what you can learn about yourself when you cross
cultures, for there is no better way to understand your culture than by seeing it
through the eyes of another culture. The Australians viewed the Americans in
this story as a people with enormous drive, a restless energy that created a
powerful belief in and need for industry at the personal as well as societal
level. We were the worker bees of the world, and we got rich for our efforts…but
at a price. This story investigates that price at that period of time. I then
reflected on what it is costing us now.
I see a society that is tired. Have you noticed how even young people list as one
of their favorite activities, sleeping? As well, we seem to believe that we
have completely run out of time, time to sit down and enjoy each other, time to
consider fully decisions put in front of us, time to be together - just
together interacting as a family not traipsing about on holidays, time to stop
and help one another. We are a driven people and no matter what we turn to for
relief, inspiration, relaxation, or rest, we do it as a timed contest. We want
life fast, convenient and boxed. We rarely have adventures or deep moments of
peace. And we drive our children in this same fashion. We don’t realize what
the Aussies in Beyond the Black Stump
understood about what encourages and nourishes the human spirit versus what
dulls it, imprisons it and causes it to feel constantly fatigued.
What
if we were, even if only in a small part of our lives, to live more gently, to
touch the world, those around us, and especially our children more gently? And
what, to you writers out there, would it be like if you approached your art
with a sense of gentle faith that you will succeed rather than driving yourself
to meet yet another schedule.
I
have had opportunities to live in several places where people lived by a different
set of priorities, and I remember thinking, both as the 16 year old in
Medellin, Colombia and the young adult in northern Alberta, these people get
everything done in the end and yet it is so humane here. My American father visited me once on my farm
in northern Alberta. Farms were large acreages there, multiple square miles in
many cases, and since my father hadn't seen one person working in the fields as
he drove the miles to my place, the first words out of his mouth were, “Man,
Canadians are lazy.” I didn't even grace his statement with a reply for it had
been raining for a week right at harvest and, even if we were in the fields,
they could be miles from the nearest road. But he was demonstrating what I am
talking about in terms of how we Americans have been conditioned to see the
world, and I’m here to suggest, it may be time to understand the indisputable
strength in gentleness and what a wise choice it is.
Just
as an old man learns other ways to live life as his physical strength wanes
- cleverer, more perceptive ways - we too as a culture are now old enough to
begin to realize the wisdom and power that comes with gentleness. As well, we
could watch the tension, frustration and fatigue melt away. For the price we’re
paying for believing "never-say-die" as the only way to accomplish great acts is increasing, and the returns
diminishing.
Like a person, a culture also matures, and a wise culture will
understand how its choices of the past might no longer serve it. Gentle, as a
verb, means to tame, to render tractable, to calm. But let us not miss the fact
that it also means to ennoble and dignify.
With
all due respect to Dylan Thomas, I think it would have been better had he written,
“Do not got compliantly into that dark night,” for gentle is not the opposite
of raging but rather the choice of those who would use their life-given energy
in a most efficient and prudent way.
