The Death of Spontaneity

We'll just have to think simpler.

Photo from souldivinginstitute.com

Non-planners are screwed.

Poor folks are screwed.

Those who love the wilderness for its solitude are screwed.

Those who love to do exotic things on a whim are screwed.

Being spontaneous—when it has anything to do with the need to book lodging, tour experiences or make restaurant reservations—is becoming less and less likely. A few years back the total eclipse swept across the northern latitudes of the United States and rental homes along its path were booked years in advance. Even the Deschutes River—which fell along the full blackout path of the eclipse—experienced unprecedented numbers of boaters seeking to witness a once-in-a-lifetime event. I had never seen the demand for boater’s passes on the river so high. The only thing that kept them from being sold out years in advance was the fact you could not make a reservation until 6 months or so before the celestial event was to occur.

‘Eclipse mania’ is now the norm and planners have the advantage. (Though it’s really a Coronavirus Delirium. After being shut-ins for more than 12 months people are emerging from their cocoons like rabid, experience-starved chrysalises determined to make up for lost time.)

I might think about doing something well in advance but I am loathe to put money down on it and I am equally loathe to commit months—even weeks—ahead of time. I am your proverbial grasshopper.

I like spontaneity as much as I like routine.

Weird, I know. But it’s the truth. I like to launch into my spontaneous activities from a well-formed base of mundane repetition. I’m a home body that every now and then get’s a wild hair and winds up scrabbling over knotted roots through the rain forests of Tasmania or staring down at tumultuous cascades of whitewater in deepest, darkest Peru.

Outdoor activities of all kinds were once the epitome of spontaneity. Social media posts, steady population growth and pandemic worries have propelled people into the Great Outdoors like never before. Trailhead parking is maxed out. Campgrounds are reserved months ahead of time. Outdoor toys are backordered. Private river permits—especially on the West’s famous river corridors—are nigh impossible to acquire. The lottery drawings for river permits were always unlikely odds but now they’re as elusive as a sighting of Sasquatch.

I saw concert tickets selling for $1500.

I wouldn’t pay $1500 to sit on Mick Jagger’s lap and have him croon into my ear the Rolling Stones entire catalog of songs to me personally. (Sorry, Mick.) Maybe they expect Americans to have pocketed their stimulus checks just for such an occasion. I have no idea. This indicates, where it is still possible to be spontaneous, it will cost you a small fortune. Perhaps, in the future, we will be taking out mortgage-like instruments to take a tour to the Galapagos.

You can’t even be spontaneous about going out to dinner.

The madding crowds are everywhere and, if it’s not the fault of crowds, it’s that service industry positions are still going unfilled and restaurants are understaffed. Meanwhile, the new COVID variant (Delta) dwells in the back of my mind when I consider indoor dining. Because most places in the good ol’USA are relying on the honor system—you’ve seen the signs—If you are vaccinated, a mask is not required. I’d put the odds of a person who refuses to get vaccinated to wear a mask when they’re in such a place of business at. . . nil.

Let me put it in another way. The odds are better that I could knock out Mike Tyson in a bare knuckle brawl.

I’m going to miss spontaneity.

Thankfully I am still willing to sleep out of the back of my car, eat at roadside diners, savor simple meals, share wide-ranging conversations with the special people that wander in and out of my life, get satisfaction from the little things and never get competitive with the Jones’s when it comes to life-changing experiences.

It’s the perfect recipe for navigating the days of Coronavirus Delirium.

Something triggered me to think about a Graham Nash song I loved along with an entire Graham Nash album I also loved - Songs for Beginners. Enjoy!

Also—in case you missed it (ICYMI)—the winner of this year’s National Spelling Bee was this young woman from Harvey, Louisiana—Zaila Avant-garde. With a first and last name like that, no wonder she’s a wizard with words. The winning word was murraya and I am 100% confident I would not have had a clue as to how to spell it. She is also the holder of a few Guiness Book of World Records.

National Spelling Bee winner, Zaila Avant-garde. Image from Yahoo News.