Lepidoptera and Rollercoasters.

Photo for attention - not taken on the rollercoaster holiday - undeniably cute.
Trish - Ivan (big brother) - Me.

One of my life’s philosophies, is: “The only constant in life is its inconstancy.”

I used to try to stop the ups and downs of the rollercoaster that is life, but found it was useless and so I am learning to accept the ebb and flow, the never a dull moment, and the never having time to take a breath before the next big wave hits. Obviously, the last few years have been one of the biggest learning curves for the whole planet, from Covid to war, with the underlying and ever-present threat of climate change. We are but spherical metal bearings in a pinball machine, catapulted from pillar to post.

Another of my philosophies is that tried and tested one about the butterfly beating its wings that causes a hurricane on the opposite side of the globe. I like to imagine (though it may be wishful thinking) that we are all becoming more aware of how our actions, no matter how small, can affect the rest of humankind.

I was deeply affected by the forest fires in the Amazon which came to public attention last year—or was it the year before? Time has a dreadful way of slipping by—either way, it was murder and a desecration of ancient lands; those fires were not just an accident of nature. I think of the Amazonian Rain Forest in terms of the lungs of the world and although they are not in my country, or even on my continent, those lungs are what helps us all to breathe. We have no control over the forest, it is in another jurisdiction, the people who own it and destroy it, say, “it is ours." They tell us that we have no right to lecture them on what to do with their forests, but they are killing us all, breath by breath.

So let us examine how we can live our life with just these two philosophies in mind. Both of them point to a lack of control, but the first one is acceptance and living for the day. “Hang on and enjoy the ride.” And indeed, it can be an interesting and exciting ride if we let go and give in to it.

I remember the first, and only time I went on a rollercoaster. I was nine years old, and we were at a Butlin’s Holiday Camp in Weston-Super-Mare—great name. I remember it fondly—we have several photos of us as children climbing in and out of the freezing cold outdoor pool where I learned to swim. I also remember the tropical-themed bar where my parents could order unlimited cocktails on the all-inclusive package. The lighting was dimmed, there was a dancefloor and there were low glass-topped tables containing lush (plastic) vegetation. The theatrics of this was not lost on me. I had a curious and visual mind that loved the illusion of another world, unknown and unfamiliar to me. It seemed so exotic—a rainforest in a barroom table.

But back to the rollercoaster. I was nine, and my sister, Trish, who was fearless, was eleven. I was bigger, taller, and not as smart as she was. Trish was always sharp as a pin. To go on the ride, you had to be accompanied by someone who was twelve or older, so she told me that she was going to say that she was twelve. I was ok with that, I just used to follow her like a puppy. We got in the queue and when we reached the barrier the man looked us up and down and asked Trish how old she was – she lied easily “I’m twelve.” Then he looked at me; a dumb kid with chocolate around my mouth—the idiot sister. I’m not sure how Trish put up with me, but I guess you have to play with the cards you are dealt.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“I’m nine.” I said, unable to make up a lie on the spur of the moment.

I remember the way he looked at us, he knew that my sister was lying, but he let us on. 

Perhaps it is something I should never have experienced, and I would never have done it without my fearless sister, but without her, my life would also have gone a different way, of that, I am certain—good or bad, it doesn’t really matter much now—it is what it is.

I remember getting into the carriage and my sister pulled the safety bar down, slowly we were shunted along to allow the next carriage to fill. The bell rang to tell everyone to stand clear and then, a jolt and we were moving, dragged along by cranking cogwheels, ground level at first and then up, and up, and up, and up. I was beginning to regret my enthusiasm at going on the rollercoaster, I wished I could be back in the tropical (plastic) bar with my parents, gazing at tropical (plastic) flora while our mother and father got drunk on cheap cocktails and I got drunk on pineapple juice with a paper parasol stuck in it.

I remember getting to the top and the train coasted along on the flat for a few feet before pausing for a split second as I looked over the precipice and then we plunged at a mind-numbing speed almost vertically downwards. Yes, I screamed, that is what everybody wants to hear and yes, tears were forced out of my eyes into my hair and beyond. When we landed, I walked off with wobbly legs and tears frozen on my cheeks.

I have never been on a rollercoaster since. Life is terrifying enough, so why? Just why?

The second philosophy about butterfly wings is more of a call to action. If we don’t act now, we will lose everything to the hurricane. It is tempting to make profits today but if we drill that oil and burn it, we are wrecking and polluting the planet. If we chop down those 1,000-year-old trees, to clear the land for meat production or to sell the wood at a good price we make an immediate profit, that is undeniable, but the cost to the planet is beyond estimate and reaches far beyond the boundaries of our own country. The wings of the butterfly influence all of us.

My daughter has just been over for a visit, and I am clearing up the house—there are some extra bottles, plastic packages, some paper, and cardboard, generated by our time together. Carefully I sort it and take it to the separate bins for recycling. I am but a tiny insect, but I hope earnestly that the beating of my small wings will affect the world in a positive way.