It's hard to resist a retrospective of a decade, a look back as 2009 became not "two thousand ten," but "twenty ten," a new moniker to fit days ahead.

Denis Dutton, who teaches philosophy at the University of Canterbury and who lives in Christchurch, New Zealand, took to newsprint recently to remind us of the hand-wringing of 10 years ago.

Remember the Y2K problem, the panic as it dawned on the technologically inclined computers could not read calendar dates past 1999? Imaginations went wild! Planes would fall from the sky and banks fail, car engines sputter and elevators go awry.

The year 2000 waited in the wings while the country held its' breath, afraid microprocessors would have a nervous breakdown. The hysteria became downright biblical. Fire and brimstone voices predicted the end of the world and frightened listeners stockpiled food and water.

But the world kept turning, and though cash registers fumbled over the date, 2000, printing out 1900 instead, glitches in Britain, where no expense had been spared to rework computer programs, were similar to those in the Ukraine where yawns outweighed fear and little attention was paid to a calendar roll-over.

Dutton's take on human behavior is intended to shed light on our fascination with end-of-the-world scenarios. Ten years down the road, it is hard to believe we considered the computers of 1999, aliens, capable of bringing down commerce and the wrath of God because they weren't coded to include a couple of zeros.

If Dutton's treatise holds weight, then our apocalyptic fantasies are substitutes for dealing with what really ails us: Realities like greed in our financial system, poor stewardship of the planet, poverty and excessive lifestyles.

We embrace big screen "cosmic cataclysms," making billions for Hollywood, yet we can be stubborn as mules about changing our ways, turning our attention to smart solutions for reducing our dependence on fossil fuels and cleaning up smoggy air.

We begin the year 2010 as voyeurs of others' lives, watching reality shows, yet stepping back from everyday truths by buying into a Peter Pan mentality, telling ourselves we don't own the big problems and they will take care of themselves in time (read climate change).

Yet, when we hear of action overtaking passivity and citizens coming together in a brave act, we cheer. We may have lost faith in institutions, (rightly so, in some cases), but we are moved by an account of airline passengers subduing a young man, poised to die and take a plane filled with innocent people with him.

We go forth into a new year relishing a time of rugged individualism and questioning the motives of the establishment because we no longer live in a time of absolutes, one promising hard work and savings guarantee a secure old age and educations for our children.

Yet, what comes of navel gazing, endless introspection as we wait to see if a new year will open a window to better times? We're told we should think positively, so we buy T-shirts reading "Life is Good."

And all around us happiness is held up as the ultimate state. "Oprah" and self-help books are advocates of envisioning our best selves in spite of life-changing circumstances, stunting our hopes and dreams.

Is it possible to accept a "world not colored by wishes or fears," as writer Barbara Ehrenreich suggests, "to feel in your bones you are grateful for your current circumstances," good or bad?

I take heart from words offered by a sage who wrote of the need for a renewed spirit. "We should roll into 2010 as though it is undiscovered territory, and we have our wagons loaded and oxen hitched," he penned.

No doubt, 2010 will be a taskmaster. It will take stiff spines to travel through uncharted waters, to see ourselves as pioneers in a future, unknown. Yet, on our best days, hasn't courage always been our ace in the hole?

Judy Elliott is an award-winning columnist from Marietta.