Thoughts on scarcity

"Not the blood, sir. But all of a man's water, ultimately, belongs to his people-to his tribe...the human body is composed of some seventy percent water by weight. A dead man, surely, no longer requires that water" -Dune, by Frank Herbert

A roommate from college challenged me to read the book in 2008. I made some dismissive gesture with one of my eyebrows (especially after seeing a clip from the 1984 movie). Now, 12 years later I finally took the challenge. The book brings home some hard truths (it's also kind of strange, but that's neither here nor there). 

Here on planet Earth we face Dune's problem. 790 Million People. That is 1 in 10 people who don't have consistent access to clean water. Such a basic aspect of life that I so often take for granted. The last time I was truly thirsty is actually documented in this blog. I complained incessantly and have rarely felt so miserable. 

I can't help thinking about how much excess I have without necessarily appreciating it. How much of that excess should I morally/ethically keep for myself? If I believe that every human is equal (I think I do), then when do I start acting like I believe that? At what point am I comfortable enough with my life that I start reaching outside my own bubble? Looking beyond those right in front of my own face?

In the later stages of Cambrie's pregnancy, and with the ever-present pandemic lurking in the shadows of my thoughts I have not travelled around Switzerland as much. But that has not stopped me from trying to get to know the city I live in. Bern has so many things. One is water. There are 100+ fountains scattered around the city. Think of it. 1 in 10 people in the world don't have access to clean water, yet here it is pouring out of fountains and down channels in the street. Clean, cold, potable water. 

Here are a few of them:

This one is right outside my house. Yes, that's a tiny bear with a gun. Switzerland.

Out of these the most disturbing is perhaps the third picture. One of a man eating babies. Again, Switzerland.

Beyond the fountains, on the backdrop of the city runs the river Aare. The life of this city. Ask a Bernese citizen about the Aare and a dreamy look sweeps across their face. Tradition pulls people into the water in the summers to float down the river. 

This is along my favorite run near my house:

This is comes out as a jumbled mess of my thoughts on scarcity as I experience it (or rather, don't experience it). What I'm trying to get at is that I realize that I live in a bubble. Not just living in a place with access to water, but having access to health care, a stable job in the middle of a worldwide pandemic that has torn the lives of millions to tiny shreds of worry. I want to commit myself to looking farther than 2 inches from my nose. Looking past the Netflix lineup for the month. 

As I write this at my desk, I look outside my window. Snow is falling on the Berner Munster. A homeless woman drags her cart to the doors of the church many days and sits under the awning. Someone needs help so close to me I could yell to her, Ebenezer Scrooge style. But I don't know the German word for 'goose'. Fear continues to hold me back. 

Fear is the mind-killer. -Dune, by Frank Herbert