Today I’ve been thoroughly enjoying the audiobook of Bryce Courtenay’s “The Power Of One” (as first mentioned yesterday). I think he’s leading up to the power of one person to make a difference – we haven’t got to that bit yet, but meanwhile I’m relishing the journey, and it has sparked off my own line of thinking on the power of one.
I’m a real believer in tipping points. Given the right circumstances, even the tiniest of actions can tip the balance and make a huge difference to the course of history. A black woman taking a seat on a bus. A dimpled chad on a voting form. A speech. A single remark that changes the chemistry of a delicate negotiation.
Very few of us will ever get the chance to take that momentous action that changes the world. But we all get the chance to contribute to the circumstances in which that action occurs.
If you picture it like a balance scale, with millions of marbles being loaded onto the pans. Maybe for decades, or centuries, marbles have been piling up on one side. Given my eco-leanings, let’s illustrate this example by calling this side “unlimited growth” – growth of profits, population, consumption, etc.
But more recently marbles have started to gather on the other side. More and more of them. Let’s call this side “sustainability”. Every time we say no to a plastic bag, or walk instead of drive, or decide we really don’t need yet another gizmo, we are adding another marble to the side of sustainability.
We probably won’t add the marble that tips the balance. We might not even be alive when that happens. But that doesn’t mean that our marble doesn’t count. In fact, every marble counts. The tipping point can’t be reached without each and every marble on that scale pan.
And that’s why we all keep plugging away, doing what we can. One oarstroke at a time.
Today was less like a chocolate, more like a sandwich. A sunshiney sandwich with rainy bits on the outside. Started off rainy and grey, got lovely in the middle, then ended with a good old downpour. Even during the sunny part I could see lots of clouds with legs around me. I try to dodge the legs, but can’t really row fast enough. With these giant leggy clouds tramping across the ocean around me, I feel like a mouse at a barn dance, trying to avoid being trodden on!
Another deceased needlefish on the deck this morning. Poor thing had ended up in the “bathroom” (underneath the bedpan). What an undignified place to meet his end. There again, isn’t that where Elvis died too?
Thanks for the brilliant suggestions on pirate names, on Facebook as well as on the comments. “Salty Rozen Dog, Bare Butt of the High Seas” made me laugh (thanks, Walt Wilson), but I think I’m going to have to go with Bryan Fuller’s suggestion of “The Purple Pirate”. Simply perfect!
Thanks also for the suggestions on seasickness. I do actually have some ginger tea, which I’m sure would have worked a treat, except that it was so rough I didn’t really want to be doing a juggling act with cooking stoves and boiling water in the dark. Isn’t that just always the way; that the time when you need a cup of tea or good hot meal is precisely the time when it’s most difficult to make one!
The quease has now eased, thank you. I don’t suffer anywhere near as much as poor old James of “Crossing The Ditch” fame (kayaking across the Tasman). I think he was still suffering on Day 40!
Thanks for today miles go to: Sharon Levin, Robert Mainville, Calvin Burnes, Nancy Bowman, Leslie Layton, Anke Altermann, Christopher Senn, Larry Grandt, Bradley Kehoe, Nancy Reidy-Crofts.