I went out for a short run today. I started on the Boston side of the Charles River, jogging without incident until I was around one hundred yards from Mass Ave. At that point - whoosh! - a hawk appeared in front of me, flying about ten feet over my head, and I turned back to catch one last look at its tan feathers before it flew out of sight around the curve of the path.
Around thirty minutes later, I was finished with my run and walking through the Boston Common. There were squirrels everywhere, and I was alert to the possibility of one jumping onto my shoulder, or even directly underfoot. The situation with the squirrels grows bleaker each year, or so it seems to me; one of the new winter traditions in these public spaces is having a squirrel come within inches of me, its emaciated form the last reminder of the summer tourist, whose consistent buffet of crumbs, scraps, and well-intended philanthropy meant it was always possible to put off learning how to find its own food, until one day the time had passed. On the bleakest days, I come across the fallen in the leaves.
The squirrels had an extra urgency today, like passengers on a sinking ship elbowing their way toward a waiting lifeboat, flirting with the thin line between respectful and insistent. My mind drifted to the ridiculous possibility that they could read the skyline, and therefore knew the truth - the familiar wintry blend of gray clouds blurring into fading orange, the result of a sun that drops rather than sets at around four o'clock, which is always the indisputable sign of the new season. It was then that I saw the tan reflection again, flapping furiously, this time with dinner wriggling in its talons.
It was a similar scene four winters ago that prompted me to take a wild swing at something which had been stuck in my mind since reading Will Durant's Fallen Leaves, and that I mentioned briefly in a comprehensive reading review - the solution to a big, difficult problem is education; this is the only solution. I've learned over the ensuing four years that there is a little more to this lesson - it works just the same for the smallest of our concerns. If we lack education, we lack the tool required to understand our lives, and we become forever unable to take control in ways that allow us to make the most of the day.
Luckily, education doesn't need to come out of a textbook, or from the words of a teacher. Education is very simple - it means trying to apply something you know to a situation that you can make better. And if you aren't entirely sure what will happen, my recommendation is to just try it, and see what ensues - the worst outcome is that you'll be wrong, which means you'll learn something; that's the whole point.
