TANGLES

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXX, Issue 21414, 11 February 1933, Page 1 (Supplement)

TANGLES

BY RONALD BUCHANAN.

A SEASIDE HOMILY

I have been fishing. Not in the approved, gentlemanly fashion, with rod, and reel and flies of divers hues. But with a hurnblo line, cast from the rocks,' with bait of shellfish, and for sinker a smooth stone from the beach. This, last, as often as not, escaped from the line in the act of throwing, and sped sea>ward all alone as if shot from a sling, after the manner of David's pebble from the brook, though with results less momentous. It was all very jolly—albeit the harvest was of small account—and the simple experiences of these days by the sea will abide as the memory of a pleasant and restful holiday. But along with the happy recollections of rock-pools and foamy breakers, and summer sunshine and the nibbling of " spotties," there remains an impression, just a little disturbing, of tangles. At every turn I encountered them, from the moment when my newly-purchased line was unwound for action until the last lime I hauled in and rolled up. Why is it that a length of cord, left to itself for A moment, will tie itself up in the most cunning and provoking fashion ? How does it happen that, without any human intervention, a condition of affairs is set up that suggests the deliberate work of a subtle and malicious intelligence, and calls for long and patient Labour in the work of its unravelling ? Well, I know not what principles are involved, if any such there be in this matter at all. But the fisherman was ever a philosopher—he has lime for much reflection between bites —so I fell to musing on this and that. A Fisherman's Philosophy

And it seemed to me that life, however you look at it, is largely a matter of casting a line and hoping for the best. We make adventure in many waters —in business, in pleasure, in love, perhaps even in faith. And we have our periods of patient waiting, our flutters of excitement when the nibbling seems to promise great things; our moments of elation when a catch is really landed; and our seasons of depression and despair when the fish that seemed so nearly ours makes off into the deep, taking all our hooks with him. And throughout it all, be the ultimate fortune good or bad, there is the harassment and heartbreak of the inevitable tangle: the factor that has escaped our calculation, yet means so much when once it has emerged; the situation that seems to develop of itself; the complication that arises so unexpectedly, and yet so naturally, that we meet it with amazement yet with shame that we have overlooked the obvious. And so, perhaps, for a time, the major quest passes almost out of sight, while we sit down with some misgiving to straighten out the tangled threads. George Macdonald writes in a wellknown little poem: Alas, how easily things go wrong; A sigh too much, or a kisß too long. And there follows a mist an 4 a weeping rain, And life is never the same again. This is very true, as we all know; and so far as material matters are concerned there are a good many of us who have said good-bye to the old year with few regrets, and with just that sense of discomfiture that the lines suggest. And we begin to see, as the first result of our reflection, that " things," in the very nature of them, tend toward confusion and entanglement, and that a certain inherent quality of " cussedness " is ever at work, not only around us, but in us—which is, perhaps, a not inadequate affirmation of the old doctrine of original sin. For in matters of personal behaviour, as much as in the material happenings of life, we are subject to the emergence of unforeseen complications that in their way are as disconcerting and as disastrous as any that arise in the great world of affairs. The Unknown Quantity I found that the management of my line was made a little difficult by reason of a rocky coast, a high wind, a rough sea and a strong growth of seaweed that fringed the rocks on every hand, so that oven a well-directed cast was often brought to confusion. And this,_ not so much because the circumstances in general were definitely unfavourable as on account of the constant variation of conditions that seemed to find one never quite prepared. One could make allowance for a strong breeze, and be mindful enough of the limits of a rock-bound channel. But a sudden gust of wind, a wide swirl of the kelp, a jagged point of rock which had not before seemed particularly obtrusive, and trouble ensued. And it is rather like that in this business of living aright. We may recognise the forces that are definitely arrayed against us, and, up to a point, we may make provision to meet them. But the attack sometimes comes from an unexpected quarter or in an unaccustomed way. And we are inclined to rely on a happy succession of counter-balancing circumstances to keep things right in our periods of laxity. The strength and wisdom of some friend will call a halt for us before we go too'far. Our regard for the conventions (or somebody else's) will pull us up in good time, and what else were they made for? And so we dally with the doubtful and the dangerous, hoping that the restrictions by which we are surrounded will save us from disaster in spite of ourselves. And very often they do. But sooner or later there comes a time when the trusted circumstance fails us. The condition that should have proved our ally suddenly turns traitor. The natural inclination finds itself for once in line with an unexpected opportunity. We are caught unawares. The Art of Unravelling

But the fisherman's philosophy should be proof against any feeling of despair, even though he know his own carelessness and folly have contributed to the complication. The most tiresome tangle may be unravelled if patience and purpose be sustained and strong enough, and we may rise from the task ready for a further cast, and prepared to ciirry on in the faith of better fortune to come. Wo may not entirely avoid the tangles of life—even our best-laid schemes may " gang aft aglee " —but we can refuse to let them hinder our progress or cloud our vision. After all it is the unravelling, rather than the complication, that determines our worth, and we are less likely to suffer a repetition of the humility if we have tackled the job of straightening out in a spirit of courage and good cheer. Which is to say that in the last analysis " things," with all their perversity and complexity, may be made to serve the high ends of patience and faope and the will to do well. We have been accustomed, in the January days, to take a look both ways, like the god after whom the month is named. It may be that in neither direction was that recent view very alluring. But, whatever may be our regrets for the past or our resolutions for the future, it will be well if we can march forth into the new year in tho joyous spirit of the truth arrived at by George Macdonald in the concluding verse of his little poem: And things can never go badly wrong If the heart be true and the love be strong, For the mist, if it comes, and the wtseping rain ' Will be changed by the love into sunshine again.