Don't worry, be happy (oh, and it's the end of the World)

Given the recent spate of natural disasters, bloody conflicts and prophetic warnings blasting across the headlines, you'd be forgiven for thinking it was the end of the world.

There's this year's record number of tornadoes in the American Mid-West, the recent 2011 Japan earthquake, tsunami and subsequent nuclear power plant meltdown; the Icelandic volcanic eruptions, the floods in Missouri, Louisiana, Manitoba, Quebec, New Brunswick – on and on it goes. And that's just Mother Nature's offering to the mix.

Add to this the recent global economic crisis, the "Arab Spring" revolution in the Middle East, the ongoing Islamic fundamentalist “terrorist” threat -- or the wrapping up of the Oprah show -- and life on this modern planet can seem a bit overwhelming. It doesn't help the situation either that soap box prophets like Harold Camping are cashing in on the public's paranoia by crying wolf (apparently the end of the Earth is now Oct. 21st).

But it's not like the world hasn't seen this before. Every generation thinks they have it worse then the generation before them, and that a dramatic and horrific Apocalyptic ending is just around the bend. That is not to say that it won't happen (the Apocalypse), but we need to get some perspective on things.

I'm sure those who lived through the early part of the 1900's through 1940's felt just as uncertain about the times they were living in. After all they saw everything from the Great Depression, the devastation of The Great War and the resulting 1918 Influenza pandemic (that killed far more people then the war), the rise of Fascism and Communism in Europe (with it's accompanying wars and holocausts) -- through to the ushering in of the nuclear age following the dropping of the atom bomb on Japan.

And I can't imagine there wasn't a family worldwide unaffected by the horrors of that era. In just five years (1941-45), Russia alone lost 13% of its population of 110 million, Europe 78% of its 7.8 million Jews, and Poland just over 16% of its 34 million citizens.

Such huge numbers are nearly impossible to comprehend. In comparison to the plagues of the Dark Ages (when between 30%-60% of Europe's 450 million people were wiped out by the Black Death) or the 1556 Shaanxi earthquake (which killed an estimated 850,000 in one day) -- the travails of our modern times pale in comparison. Perhaps our present day paranoia has more to do with our proximity to such recent disasters brought about by the Information Age.

As with ages past, distance and time played a crucial role in softening the impact of disaster. There were no on-the-scene reporters braving the forest fires or the hurricane winds, nor images and sounds of tornadoes or wars or famines to shock the senses.

Likewise other factors -- like Nationalism, isolationist policies, inherit political or ethnic biases promoted by nation states -- often created an atmosphere of callousness and disregard for the suffering's of those outside their sphere of influence.

Our immediate environment shapes the way we perceive our circumstances. When the weather is nice and sunny, it is hard to imagine another region getting slammed by a snow storm. However thanks to modern media -- with its 24-hour news channels and anywhere accessibility of the Internet – we can't help but absorb news like a sponge. Incidentally we intake, regurgitate and dwell upon the mostly negative material we observe.

Back in my college days I concocted an experiment. For two years I swore off modern media. I didn't watch any TV, listen to commercial radio or browse the Internet (although I didn't give up going to the cinema). Besides the initial boredom, the quiet, and the copious amounts of free time I found myself with-- something in my way of thinking began to change. It was a near instantaneous clearing of the senses, as if a weight had been lifted off me. Perhaps the media disconnect left me more naive regarding what we call “news”, but I still garnished an idea of what was going on from the occasional newspaper or magazine headline.

And I didn't feel in anyway diminished by this experience. If anything, I felt more relaxed, at peace, and more hopeful. What I realized mattered most was what was going on immediately around me -- at that very moment. I'm sure other things (probably bad) were happening elsewhere which probably shouldn't be overlooked, but there were enough needs within my immediate environment to vie for my attention.

The problem with modern media is that it oversaturates. Though I currently partake in my share of news gathering and disseminating, I can't help but think how unnatural it is to absorb so much information. Since the dawn of human civilization, the only concern was the physical here and now. But media has created a new paradigm, one which opens up many worlds and displays them continuously -- whether or not these new worlds have anything even remotely to do with us.

To say that we should ignore what goes on elsewhere would do a disservice to those who empathize with the suffering of others. But I think we also need to be aware that empathy means nothing without action, and in most cases we watch what we watch just to be "informed." And I've got nothing against that. 

But what I think is essential is an understanding that yes, the world has and will always have its share of trouble – so just relax, calm down and do what you can with what you've got.

If not, perhaps it's time to tune out.

The Man who stood against the Tsunami (and won)

Picture yourself five thousand years ago in a world that has never seen rain. Surrounding you are luscious green fields watered by underground springs, small homes dotting the rolling hills -- and some old white-bearded guy banging together a boat.

But this isn't your ordinary take-it-out-for-the-afternoon fishing dingy. Notwithstanding its massive 450 foot length and 75 foot width, this monolithic multi-story piece of pitch and Cyprus wood was to house two of every living creature on Earth. Problem was, the ship wasn't built even remotely close to any existing bodies of water. It just sat in Noah's backyard, an object of ridicule amongst his dumbfounded neighbours.

And after the poor old guy had laboured away for what must have been the better part of a century, the animals were loaded aboard, the doors were shut, and the flood waters came and wiped out everything but him, his family and the animals. At least that's how the book of Genesis tells it.

Fast forward to March 11, 2011. An underground megathrust earthquake with the force of 600 million Hiroshima nuclear bombs rocks the coast of Japan. Besides knocking the planet 10 inches off its axis, the energy displaces enough ocean water to create a wall of water 128 feet high.

The wave, initially the speed of an airliner, slows at it approaches the hapless fishing hamlets dotting the Eastern Japanese coastline. In the blink of an eye, the torrent smashes the land with unimaginable force. Houses and bridges are ripped off their foundations; buses, boats, cars, trains and nearly anything else buoyant enough to float is unwillingly swept into the deadly morass of mud and debris.

Further inland -- and in the direct path of the onrushing tsunami -- is the fishing port of Fudai. At the mouth of the city, nestled between two mountains, is a massive 673 foot long concrete tsunami barrier. Built 38 years earlier after much controversy (and at the insistence of the late town mayor Kotaku Wamura) the barrier's 66 foot height and $40 million cost was considered too extravagant and unnecessary by many of the townsfolk.

However Wamura knew better. Having spent his life in Fudai, he had seen first hand the effects of Mother Nature's fury. The 1933 Earthquake and tsunami had so ravaged the area that for decades after bodies were still being dug out of the mud as the town rebuilt and expanded. Despite the doubting of others (as well as Wamura's own misgivings) he managed to convince the resident's that the barrier was in their best interests.

But as the onrushing water approached the barrier, something went terribly wrong. Despite the successful closing of the four main gate panels, a small door refused to budge. Springing into action, a local fireman raced to the jammed door and shut it moments before the torrent collided with the barrier.

Despite the water lapping over the edge of the berm, the barrier stood solid. Amazingly, all but the town's port was spared from destruction, thanks entirely to Wamura's foresight and persistence.

Something needs to be said for those visionaries -- be they thinkers in alternative energy, environmental protection or what have you -- that clearly foresee the potential disasters ahead and act on behalf of others to save them. They brave the stigma of doubters, overcome collective ignorance among society and struggle to maintain their reputation or even livelihoods in order to raise the warning.

Often times these persons are not even alive to see the fruit of their struggles, but this should not deter them from acting. Recent efforts by the current American administration to address the severity of the US debt might be seen as such an act, though possibly this may be an example of sounding the klaxon alarm too little, too late.

But in other areas, such as the alternative energy front, there is still plenty of time to enact change and steer the boat of global warming and fossil-fuel dependence away from the swirling whirlpool. Most of us can concur that something needs to be done here, but most of us expect someone else to do it.

What is necessary is a collective awareness that we all have a share in this global biosphere, and should ( in the very least) approve of and encourage those who have the capability to protect and preserve -- like Noah and Wamura -- to do just that.