A Life Worth Living
I found the Dark Mountain Project a day or so ago, in a roundabout way from a print of a painting I found on Etsy.
I read the Dark Mountain Project's manifesto last night. It pretty much sums up what I've been feeling for the last couple of years; a sense that civilization as we know it is slipping away from us, rolling down the hill to fast for us to catch before it smashes to bits at the bottom. The majority of people working today won't have retirements like our parents had or have; there won't be pensions to support us in our older years because by then, there won't be any money left.
The myth of progress has led us to believe that we need the next best thing as soon as it comes out, because what we had before isn't good enough for modern life.
There was a scientist on the radio the other day talking about test tube grown meat.
And almost every country looks to the Western lifestyle as something to strive towards, not something to pity or avoid.
By 2030, 50% of adult Americans will be obese, according to a study on the radio today.
There's a global fungus affecting bananas, which could wipe out the species of bananas that we eat.
The world is one "paycheck" away from ruin, whether ruin comes from drought, or crop failure, or natural disasters, or the economy collapsing, or nuclear disaster, or something else entirely.
Our elected officials are too concerned about their own agendas to consider the good of the people as a whole, and those issues that polarize us (and them) serve to drive us farther apart, not closer together.
We are more concerned that a celebrity is pregnant than that a whole series of roads (among other things) in New England are completely wiped out due to a hurricane's might.
We buy blueberries from Chile and raspberries from Mexico, trucked across the states because we've grown used to fresh produce, no matter what the season. I saw Clementines at the store the other day for $10.99/5lb. box. Clementines are ripe between February and May. It's August.
We are inundated by advertisements of the 'perfect life' we're supposed to be living. The latest and best products will help us get to that life, they proclaim. We can't live without them, they tell us. Oh, but what they don't tell us is that there will be a new improved version in a couple of months.
The nutritional value of our food has dropped significantly. Tomatoes grown in Florida are picked green and hard and gassed to turn red, then shipped all across the world, still hard and tasteless weeks later.
Most of us are either underwater on our mortgages or heavily in credit card debt. Most of us own more than one car. Most of us have more than one television in our house. Most of us have houses that are too big to start with. Most of us spend most of our days sitting, come home and sit some more, and then go to bed, only to wake up to long commutes in the morning.
Most of us are overweight.
There are people who were promised that all they had to do was work hard and land a good job and their life would be secure forever. Some of them lost their jobs after 20-some years. Some of them will never recover.
In this global economy, we waste food, throw away clothing because it's not 'this year's style', never wear anything until it wears out, obsess about our appearances, and worry about what our coworkers think more than where that salad from lunch originally came from.
We buy stuff that is "American Made" but made from imported materials.
Which is not all bad, of course, but a lot of what we buy isn't made to last.
And how many of us would be able to walk ten or twenty miles in an emergency?
I could go on and on and on.
And on and on.
You know, this is not life. This is not the good life. This is walking through each day with blinders on, completely oblivious to the state of the world around us. We exist. We don't truly live. We hide inside fitness centers to get into shape. We drive. Everywhere. We are dependent on oil. We wouldn't know what to do without air conditioning.
We've lost our roots, our stories, our identity. Or, what stories we have teach nothing, and only entertain.
We are faceless, easily replaced.
The news (I only listen to the radio, NPR) is full of doom and gloom and dire predictions, and yet no one seems to care.
I don't want to live like that.
It doesn't have to be that way.
The world I want to live in is full of stories, and mystery. Of teaching, and learning, and creating. Of listening. Of companionship. Of friends and family. Of making, of writing. Of poetry. Of music. Of song.
The kneading of bread. The smells of thick soup. The crispness of a freshly picked pepper, still warm from the garden. The smell of a sun-ripened tomato in late August. The crunch of snow under my boots. The sear of cold when I take a breath. The warmth of a handspun hat on my head.
The world I want to live in is autumn in all its glorious splendor. It's spring, with tadpoles in the streams and spring beauties carpeting the woods with white and pink. It's summer, hot and lazy and humid. It's winter, cold and still and starkly beautiful.
The world I want to live in can be cruel and capricious, kind and forgiving.
The world I want to live in is not inside an office cubicle for eight hours a day with a three hour round-trip commute.
The world I want to live in is alive. It means something. And it's whispering in my ear.
I read the Dark Mountain Project's manifesto last night. It pretty much sums up what I've been feeling for the last couple of years; a sense that civilization as we know it is slipping away from us, rolling down the hill to fast for us to catch before it smashes to bits at the bottom. The majority of people working today won't have retirements like our parents had or have; there won't be pensions to support us in our older years because by then, there won't be any money left.
The myth of progress has led us to believe that we need the next best thing as soon as it comes out, because what we had before isn't good enough for modern life.
There was a scientist on the radio the other day talking about test tube grown meat.
And almost every country looks to the Western lifestyle as something to strive towards, not something to pity or avoid.
By 2030, 50% of adult Americans will be obese, according to a study on the radio today.
There's a global fungus affecting bananas, which could wipe out the species of bananas that we eat.
The world is one "paycheck" away from ruin, whether ruin comes from drought, or crop failure, or natural disasters, or the economy collapsing, or nuclear disaster, or something else entirely.
Our elected officials are too concerned about their own agendas to consider the good of the people as a whole, and those issues that polarize us (and them) serve to drive us farther apart, not closer together.
We are more concerned that a celebrity is pregnant than that a whole series of roads (among other things) in New England are completely wiped out due to a hurricane's might.
We buy blueberries from Chile and raspberries from Mexico, trucked across the states because we've grown used to fresh produce, no matter what the season. I saw Clementines at the store the other day for $10.99/5lb. box. Clementines are ripe between February and May. It's August.
We are inundated by advertisements of the 'perfect life' we're supposed to be living. The latest and best products will help us get to that life, they proclaim. We can't live without them, they tell us. Oh, but what they don't tell us is that there will be a new improved version in a couple of months.
The nutritional value of our food has dropped significantly. Tomatoes grown in Florida are picked green and hard and gassed to turn red, then shipped all across the world, still hard and tasteless weeks later.
Most of us are either underwater on our mortgages or heavily in credit card debt. Most of us own more than one car. Most of us have more than one television in our house. Most of us have houses that are too big to start with. Most of us spend most of our days sitting, come home and sit some more, and then go to bed, only to wake up to long commutes in the morning.
Most of us are overweight.
There are people who were promised that all they had to do was work hard and land a good job and their life would be secure forever. Some of them lost their jobs after 20-some years. Some of them will never recover.
In this global economy, we waste food, throw away clothing because it's not 'this year's style', never wear anything until it wears out, obsess about our appearances, and worry about what our coworkers think more than where that salad from lunch originally came from.
We buy stuff that is "American Made" but made from imported materials.
Which is not all bad, of course, but a lot of what we buy isn't made to last.
And how many of us would be able to walk ten or twenty miles in an emergency?
I could go on and on and on.
And on and on.
You know, this is not life. This is not the good life. This is walking through each day with blinders on, completely oblivious to the state of the world around us. We exist. We don't truly live. We hide inside fitness centers to get into shape. We drive. Everywhere. We are dependent on oil. We wouldn't know what to do without air conditioning.
We've lost our roots, our stories, our identity. Or, what stories we have teach nothing, and only entertain.
We are faceless, easily replaced.
The news (I only listen to the radio, NPR) is full of doom and gloom and dire predictions, and yet no one seems to care.
I don't want to live like that.
It doesn't have to be that way.
The world I want to live in is full of stories, and mystery. Of teaching, and learning, and creating. Of listening. Of companionship. Of friends and family. Of making, of writing. Of poetry. Of music. Of song.
The kneading of bread. The smells of thick soup. The crispness of a freshly picked pepper, still warm from the garden. The smell of a sun-ripened tomato in late August. The crunch of snow under my boots. The sear of cold when I take a breath. The warmth of a handspun hat on my head.
The world I want to live in is autumn in all its glorious splendor. It's spring, with tadpoles in the streams and spring beauties carpeting the woods with white and pink. It's summer, hot and lazy and humid. It's winter, cold and still and starkly beautiful.
The world I want to live in can be cruel and capricious, kind and forgiving.
The world I want to live in is not inside an office cubicle for eight hours a day with a three hour round-trip commute.
The world I want to live in is alive. It means something. And it's whispering in my ear.
Comments
Yes, please, God.
May you keep hearing the whispering world.