The Life-Changing Power of Ancient Gum

I've never been a fan of celebrating the New Year—not the one that starts in January, at least (September is another story). It feels like an arbitrary division of time into then and now, and, coming right on the heels of Christmas, Hanukkah and my kids' birthday—the yearly, exhausting triple threat—it's a holiday I wish we could push out a few weeks. Maybe to that point in late January when it feels like January has been going on for several months. That would be a good time for champagne and parties, no?

This year, I confess, I've been feeling especially un-festive about the ushering in of the new year. Because the year is 2020. And it's one of the most important election years in the history of the United States. And possibly the world. And yet at the same time, there's so much that will continue to be awful no matter who wins the election. [I wrote a whole list of those things here, but then deleted it, because Jesus, who needs reminding?]

BUT: there is one thing that I've been finding helpful to think about in moments when I'm despairing about the state of humankind. I offer it to you now, as my New Year's Gift:

Ancient chewing gum.

More specifically, this ancient wad of birch pitch, discovered by Danish archaeologists, which was found to contain DNA from the neolithic woman who had chewed it.

Close your eyes and think about it for a moment: Picture the people living 5,700 years ago, hunting and gathering, maybe getting the hang of agriculture, occasionally chewing gum. They had their own fears and sorrows and struggles, albeit of the neolithic kind (blighted barley crops, rancid rabbit meat, fatal ear infections, invading Indo-European hordes, etc.). Picture a specific hunter-gatherer woman with dark hair, dark skin, and blue eyes, who had recently eaten duck and hazelnuts, who was born and lived and died. Picture the duck she'd eaten. (Just kidding. You don't have to picture the duck. Unless you want to.)

I don't know about you, but when I think about the fact that human beings have walked the earth for multiple millennia, the world weighs a little less heavily on me. Trump goes away, war goes away, cyber-propaganda and gun violence and rising ocean levels and—shit. I'm doing it, aren't I; I'm starting to list all the stuff that's wrong. I'll stop.

Like I was saying: When I add millennia of other humans and their civilizations to my construction of reality, my own presence in it—and that of everyone else currently living—feels much smaller. Microscopic, really. Weightless.

As a much better writer than me put it a very long time ago: Life’s but a walking shadow, A poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more: It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

But wait, before you reach through your modern digital device, grab me by the throat and scream "JANE WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT THE WORLD IS TERRIBLE RIGHT NOW AND WE HAVE TO FIX IT, NOT SIT AROUND THINKING ABOUT GUM-CHEWING NEOLITHIC DANISH WOMEN AND DUCKS AND QUOTING SHAKESPEARE!" and/or "NOT EVERYONE HAS THE LUXURY OF COMFORTING THEMSELVES BY THINKING ABOUT THE LONG MARCH OF HUMAN HISTORY, YOU PRIVILEGED WHITE LADY LIVING A COMFORTABLE, MIDDLE CLASS EXISTENCE!" let me assure you: I know. (And, again, I know.)

I would not for a moment suggest that it's OK to put one's head in the sand and ignore the plight of one's fellow human beings or the fate of the planet we all live on. "Eat duck and hazelnuts, chew gum and be merry for tomorrow we die," is not a philosophy I adhere to or endorse.

I'm just saying that if you can swing it, give it a shot: Step back and look at the (much bigger) picture of human existence on earth every once in a while. Think about the gum, and the girl who chewed it. You may find, like me, that it allows you to come back to the present, difficult moment feeling oddly refreshed—a little more grounded, a little less panicky, and even a little more optimistic. Ready to kick some ass and make the most of your brief time upon the stage.

Such is the power of ancient chewing gum.

Happy new year, to you and yours.