Werewolves or Vulcans . . .

Saturday. Sofa. Coffee.

I just heard an interview with Glen Duncan, author of "The Last Werewolf." The interviewer asked Duncan what, in his opinion, was the basis for readers' apparently insatiable appetite for stories about werewolves and vampires. In responding to the part about werewolves, Duncan said that while we may fear the primal instincts that seem to have ultimate control over werewolves, there is something in us that envies a creature who is not expected to deliberate and agonize over the proper choice, but rather is expected to act according to that primal instinct, to act on that impulse of desire. Duncan then read an excerpt from his novel which was a bit racy for early Saturday morning. Morning Edition's host's voice was blushing.

That sums up the struggle to be human. We are still of the animal kingdom, subject to animal instincts. But we are more than that. We can make choices against our instincts.

I was passing by one of the mobile rabies clinics the other day. The dogs did not like the shots. They wanted to bite the hand that hurt them. They could not understand that the same hand also helped them. But the vet, with the help of the owners, held the dogs still while the shot was administered, often while the dog growled meanly with bared fangs. The dogs could not make a choice not to react to the pain with the instinctive growl and tooth display. If not restrained, the dogs would have followed their instinct away from there as quickly as they could run. The vet, being human, also had an instinct, to be afraid of a mad, growling, fang gnashing animal. But he calmly did his job in delivering the vaccine. He chose to act contrary to his animal instinct.

It is not that we humans should not rely on our animal instincts. Sometimes a quick action based on instinct and not deliberative thought can save our lives. Adrenaline produced from fear can produce amazing results, even in humans.

But I tend to be analytical. A wise friend recently pointed out a problem I have. She said that I analyze a situation as it is today, decide how it is going to turn out tomorrow or in a week or in a month, and then I go into a depression about the bad thing that I have decided is sure to happen. My instinct was to slap her. But I didn't. I couldn't reach her through the phone, and besides, she is right.

It is obvious that we humans have the best of both worlds. We have the advantages of instincts built deeply into us as survival tools, and we have reason to allow us to advance beyond the rule of instinct and make choices to act otherwise.

Getting the balance right is the problem.

We are wired to be dominant, to win. Survival of the strongest. Death to the weakest. When long horned rams do battle to see who shall lead the herd and get the pick of the ladies, there is no compromise. The one who is the most butt-headed is the winner. And winner takes all. This instinct is still with us as humans. It is no accident that the capitol building in Montgomery, Alabama is set on goat-hill. There are other more prominent legislative venues that deserve that title at least as much. Compromise and better choices are often the victims of the instinct to dominate, win, and take it all.

But it is hard to be reasoned while standing in the path of a runaway train. Reason may have been appropriate when the train was still miles away, but when it is in sight and blasting its horn, fear takes over, adrenaline kicks in, and decisions of survival are made, or tragedy results. The action taken as a result of the instinct for survival may save the moment, but is probably no where nearly as good as the action that might have resulted from reason and choice while the train was still in the next county over. Take the debt ceiling crisis. Or social security or medicaid. Or dependence on oil. Or pollution of the environment. Or illegal immigration. Or the tax structure. Or any number of other runaway trains.

But our ability to reason can be a hindrance as well. We delay action, always looking and hoping for the better way, the more certain way. Or a way to get our way. Then all of a sudden we hear the whistle of the approaching train and it is too late.

I am a David Wilcox fan. The David Wilcox from North Carolina, not the one from Canada, although he is a fine musician as well. The Carolina David Wilcox wrote a song that means a lot to me titled "Just Get On." The chorus says:

And I'm running out of time
And my heart says, C'mon let's go
And my mind's saying, I don't know
And the train is at the station
But I'm lost in contemplation
And this ticket's only good for just so long
I can think about it 'til that train is gone
Or just get on

I like being analytical. I don't like being surprised by the future. Live long and prosper.

But even so, some of the best moments of my life resulted from a moment's decision based not on reason, but on impulse. Like the werewolves.

I guess it's just something we have to live with, this tension between instinct and reason.

Or more accurately, that we are blessed to live with.

.