"If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?" How many times have you dueled with that tired scrap of philosophy? I never really get as far as thinking about whether or not there was a “sound.” I tend to get caught up in the part about the tree falling in the forest. Now, I can’t be certain, but I am pretty sure that, like all other things that don’t quite turn out the way we wanted, it’s my fault. The point isn’t whether or not the event was noisy, it’s my role in it that counts. Somehow, a tree has fallen. No doubt, it happened because I forgot to wash, feed, clean, or mail in something. Somewhere a sapling is without its mother and I am to blame. A bird’s nest is crushed on the forest floor in a yolky mess, a squirrel is missing his nuts, and a whole lot of bark beetles are wandering around trying to decide what to do next. And I know that it can all be traced back to me.
How do I know this? Well, why would the tree be an exception? I am responsible for all the other things that have gone wrong in the world, so surely my influence encompasses unsuspecting trees. It’s a guilt complex served up with global tendencies.
The magnitude of my complex has crept over into megalomania. The war in the Middle East? I’m pretty sure it’s my fault. After all, haven’t I been sucking down all kinds of gasoline in my Honda Civic, driving as much as four miles a day, and mowing the lawn without regard to fuel consumption? And what about the current economic mess that is sucking the life out of our entire planet? Yep, probably did that one too. I’m not sure of the mechanism, but somehow I must have played a tiny unwitting role that set this calamity in motion. Probably it was that account I closed at the bank with the $23.95 in it. One day someone will identify it as the fiscal tipping point that started the ball rolling.
So, how I have come to place myself at the centre of these crucial events? I’m really not clear on the “how” of these situations, but my guilt meter relentlessly claws at me. A dog gets hit by a car in Africa. Yep. Also my fault. If I’d sent that twenty dollars to the Save the Canines Fund, the dog would have been happily sleeping in a dog house. It would have had food and water, three rubber toys, and a photo of me hanging on the wall. It would not have been wandering willy-nilly in the streets scouring for food. My fault, all my fault.
I admit that I might have let my sense of responsibility get out of control, but it all started with little things. Someone spilled a Coke on the rug. I failed to clean it properly and now the permanent bear-shaped stain is my fault. I have to live with that terrible knowledge. The toothpaste ran out. I was the last person in the house to set foot in a store. I completely let my family down by failing to buy toothpaste. It doesn’t matter that the store was Blockbuster Video. Just wad that up and add it to the bin labeled All My Fault. A bridge collapsed and three people were injured. Oh oh – I was a little tiny bit late with the municipal taxes in 2003. I should have thought about how that transgression could lead to a disaster. In another city. In another province. Mea culpa.
So, for whatever reason, I have begun churning down the Hill of Guilt, deeply embedded in a giant dirty snowball. Its diameter is ballooning with the stretch-marks of remorse, and I’m picking up a lot of debris and momentum as I cascade ever downward. And I almost hesitate to report this: that tree in the forest is firmly in my sights. And when I hit it, no one is going to care if it made a sound or not. But the unleashed blast of guilt is going to pepper the entire planet.
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