Playing Fair and Being Kind

NOCTURNAL CREATURES

Leaning back in my chair with eyes raised to the sky I could see all the way to forever. It was around midnight in the South Pacific. We were steaming for Sydney from Honolulu passing the strings of islands that make up archipelagos that dot that part of the world. I leaned back in the inky blackness of a moonless night and stared upward toward infinity. I could not begin to count the distant suns that filled my field of view. A constant current of air caressed me. I sat and let the night take me over. For a few minutes I focused on the pinpoints of brightness above and around me. The stars were everywhere. I used my peripheral vision to imagine a gigantic bowl above me. A few minutes more and I was able to imagine, or was it face reality, that I was lying on the leading edge of a huge ball of water hurtling through space. The thought freaked me out and I sat bolt upright in my chair and buried my face in my hands for a moment to recenter. I had scared the hell out of myself.

Later on I deduced that I had self generated a panic attack by realizing the spacial vulnerability of my position on earth. A similar event occurred another time not much later that year. I hiked with some cub scouts to the top of Mount Lamlam, the highest point on the island of Guam. We reached the top by a trail through sword grass and groves of palm trees. When we reached the peak I stuck my head up over the very top mound of earth and before me spread out for miles was the island and beyond the forever seascape of the Pacific Ocean. The wide open space caused another panic attack just like the one mentioned previously. I had to duck my head below the level of the mountain top to recenter. I had lost my spacial compass and felt completely exposed and vulnerable. What I was experiencing is known as agoraphobia.

Since then I have had problems on high places which I never had before. I can tolerate situations of height only for short periods. Crossing high bridges with no structure surrounding me is nearly impossible. It takes all I can do to cross a bridge like the Coronado Bay Bridge in San Diego. I am unable to drive the lane next to the edge. I must take the center most lane in order to be able to think clearly.

So that night on the ship in the South Pacific was a life changing moment. I was staring at the greatest piece of existence and it blew me away. I haven’t been the same since. I enjoy searching the sky above at night when I am standing with my feet on the ground at sea level but I also need structures or trees in my peripheral vision to maintain a centering, grounding effect. That is the only way that I can enjoy such wondrous sights.

Daytime viewing of the sky is not a problem however. I do recall being out West and seeing grand outdoor vistas and a slight feeling of panic would accompany the experience but not like at night or while standing on a high structure. Obversely I have no problem being deep in the ocean or deep in a building. I feel completely comfortable and secure. It’s that open space thing that exposes my fears.

I began this essay after recalling the trip across the ocean in 1971. I was on a ship that sailed from Charleston, South Carolina to Guam. That’s a long, long way. You have to cross the international date line. We traveled south and passed through the Panama Canal. From there the ship sailed to Acapulco where we spent a few nights then on to Oahu, Pearl Harbor. From there we headed southwest to cross the equator and through the scattered islands of the South Pacific to Sydney, Australia. After a short week in Sydney (it was October, Springtime south of the equator!) we continued north past New Guinea to Guam. We crossed back over the equator in the process. A little over a year later we reversed the order of visits and finished the trip in Bremerton, Washington.

Here’s a little known fact about the Panama Canal. When you travel from the Atlantic in the east, to the Pacific in the west, you go in a easterly direction. I’ll just leave it like that. You’ll need a map.

Below is a poem about looking at stars I wrote a few years ago. It’s a simple description of a moment in time. I hope you like it.

G. M. Goodwin

17 July 2016

NOCTURNAL CREATURES

In search of the little bear this evening,

Staggering in the dark with eyes lifted toward heroes,

I hear the ancient owl.

G. M. Goodwin

2012