Dis-connected!

My Great-Grandmother would never have known what I'm experiencing . . . she lived in a different age.
Mind you, I could never have imagined it myself . . . not until now.  It was last night's storm that enlightened me.

The last kick of an Atlantic hurricane, it was a storm that shook the whole country . . . uprooting trees, disrupting travel and, somewhere unbeknown to me, disconnecting my landline and broadband connection.

This morning I've had a rude awakening . . . there's no telephone . . .  no emails . . . I can access no websites.
It's a shock to discover that, from the communication viewpoint, I'm completely cut off.

With an active phone line, friends and services positively cluster at your finger-tips.  When that line dies (and you have no mobile alternative) you are, as I'm discovering, truly isolated.

In a strange way, it's as though I've been marooned.  I can't contact anyone . . . no-one can contact me.  And whilst the radio and television provide information, it's as though I've been shipwrecked on that proverbial desert island.  The radio and television are my luxury items, but they afford no personal contact with the world.

Yes, I know I'm exaggerating.  I've only to look through the window to see life continuing outside.  I need only to walk through the front door to encounter people on the pavement.

But I still feel curiously cut-off.  What makes it worse is that I can't notify my friends that my phone and email aren't working because I haven't the phone or email facilities to do so!

Above all else, I'm being forced to recognise the vital role that electronic communication plays in my life.  How regular contact with friends, both locally and around the world, is something I normally take for granted.  Not only that, there's the profusion of websites . . . the online seminars.

I hadn't realised how often, in a normal day, I sit down by the computer just to up-date myself on information or enjoy what's on offer.

LATER
It's nearly time for bed, fourteen hours since my line went down.  The storm is slowly subsiding and I'm feeling rather like a communication-addict who's gone 'cold turkey'.

Is that the right expression?
I can't even access Google to check it out!

THE FOLLOWING MORNING
Still no connection . . . is there anything more undeniably dead than a dead phone?
And what of the friends who've been trying to contact me?  I'm worried they may be growing anxious.

Nonetheless, the sun and birdsong in the garden have combined to lift my spirits . . . although I'm ashamed to admit that I'd exchange the blackbird's song for the ring of the phone . . . or even the bleep of an incoming email!

I've been writing these thoughts  in the hope that, before too long, the telephone engineer will have restored my damaged line and everything will be back to normal.
The fact that you're now reading what I've written is justification for that hope.

Believe me, and I don't say this lightly, I'll never take our contact for granted again.  Nor will I under-estimate the power and value of such connection, the miracle of global communication that is literally at our finger-tips . . . it's up to us to ensure that what is communicated is worthy of the medium it employs.

Welcome back!
I really don't recommend a prolonged diet of cold turkey!

Once upon a tribe . . .

I've been given much food for thought over the past few days.
It was triggered by a suggestion from the award-winning author and publisher, Byron Belitsos.
May I share it with you?


Just imagine, for a moment, that you are a member of a primitive tribe deep in the rain forest.  So deep, and so primitive, that you know nothing of the outside world. So established over the centuries that you consider yourself to be unique.

You are the chosen people, this forest is all there is.
On several occasions over the years you have ventured by boat down the fast-flowing river.  But your craft is fragile,  it cannot cope with the concept of long-distance travel.  You have turned back, fully convinced that there was nothing further to explore.

However, in your own eyes you are far from primitive.  You have advanced in many ways over the centuries and now consider yourself skilled and sophisticated.  There are other tribes in the forest and you treat each other with caution . . . caution and a degree of fear.  Warfare is your first option in disputes.

Just imagine the shock you would experience if, one day, a large vessel was seen approaching up the river.  A ship without oars or sail . . .  a vast edifice that seemed to be moving swiftly under its own volition.

Not only would it be totally at odds with all you had experienced, but it would appear to house an alien species.  Strange faces would be peering down at you from the deck, strange creatures would be muttering in a language you didn't understand.
Your first reaction would be fear . . . then attack.

The vessel would disappear as quickly as it had arrived and you would be left with a quandary.

Had you imagined it?
There were, as you knew, no other forms of life beyond the boundaries of the forest.  How could these creatures have appeared when there was nowhere for them to come from?

It would, you'd decide, be best to conclude that you'd suffered an hallucination.  And so life would return to normal . . . but for the residue of a disturbing memory.

Do you see where this is going?

We, the human beings on this earth, have long felt ourselves to be alone in the universe.

But, think about if for a moment, what if, just a few light years away from our tribal village, there were vast cities of highly-evolved species who would look upon us, and our way of life, as primitive?

What if the alleged 'visits' from spacecraft, news of which has been so carefully suppressed by governments worldwide, indicated a sophisticated and benign wish to help . . . not harm?

It's just a thought . . . but it's one shared by many scientists and philosophers.  One shared by many members of the armed forces . . . people who sincerely believe that they have encountered such spacecraft and their occupants, but whose testimony has been officially discredited.

It's also shared by the many people who sense that there's more to a crop circle than a pretty pattern.

Wouldn't you agree that we are at a stage in our evolution where we could do with some good advice and a helping hand?

Perhaps, if that ship comes sailing back up the river,  we might it be wise to make it welcome . . . ?