Will it snow; will it shine?

Sometimes I feel the burden of the world and then want to hide!

Sitting in darkness in the living room of my Big White Ski resort condo at 4AM after a restless night sleep, the most pressing concern is the weather that is yet to emerge in the unfolding morning of this pristine snow covered mountain.  Will it be a good ski day or a great day?  Will it snow, will it shine, and will the visibility on top of the mountain allow the details of the oncoming snow to prepare one’s legs for the bumps and hollows of the trails?  Will the wind be mild or will it tear through your ski clothes disrespectfully?  These are the burning questions of the day at Big White for me and for hundreds of others from all over Canada, US, and even some from as far away as Great Britain who have come here to glide their way through the manicured white terrain and magnificent snow covered Alice in Wonderland tree formations to enjoy their holiday.    

But something is not right.  Others around the world are not so fortunate both to my right and to my left.  While the world implodes with bombs and wild rhetoric, Japan is not so quietly tending to the disasters resulting from the recent earthquake.  The news has shifted from the initial loss of lives, the miles of pulverized rubble, and the tsunami, to what is close and personal to all of us, the concern over Japan's Fukushima Daiichi nuclear complex.  Indeed, we seem more concerned with the radiation leaking across the pacific to our home states than for the fate of those at the site, who are tending to the difficult job of cleanup. 

A country is defined by its culture. An article today in the Wall Street Journal is worth reading (Behind Reactor Battle, a Legion of Grunts –March 24, 2011- see quote below).  Hundreds of workers have been called upon to clean up the mess, and hundreds have responded to this call despite fear of personal peril, without guaranty of any incentive beyond their normal wages, and with a sense of purpose coming from a culture of working for the common community good.  

"In an evacuee camp in the city of Tamura, about 20 miles west of the Fukushima Daiichi complex, another worker for a nuclear-equipment maker says he got his call to report for duty earlier this week. The man says he thinks he will be carrying and laying pipes that will bring water to reactor No. 3.

The high-school graduate, whose salary is similar to Mr. Tada's, says he was told he could refuse the call. But he says he felt duty-bound to accept, musing that he would be in the position of sacrificing himself for the good of others, as he says Japanese pilots did in World War II suicide missions. "If the call comes, there's only one thing I can say: 'Yes, I'll go.' I thought of the kamikaze—sacrificing yourself for someone else," he says. "My heart is calm.""

And yet here I sit awaiting daybreak and a day of skiing, while offers suffer and sacrifice.  This indeed lends to my restless nights, to an unsettled sense of uncertainty and guilt that comes from being so fortunate in life, and being so far away from the disaster to desire, nevertheless unsuccessfully, to shut it from my mind, while unwillingly sensing the continuous misery and despair felt by so many thousands of Japanese who are working unselfishly to repair the wounds and reverse the destruction.