Orchards were asleep on the valley floor. Out of nowhere a drift of fireflies appeared. The pageant of dreams passed through machines, scarcely noticed until that day when silicon was branded with gold. Then the rustle of leaves drifted back into silence.
But of course there are civilized imperatives.
To the untrained eye, the scene is chaos. Little piles of notes on my desk are nestled in stacks. The branch manager of my bank explained why she blocked my account. It had been the target of an attempted hack, coming from another country. That account will continue to function for electronic transactions until I close it. Then she had opened its replacement, about which I'll have to inform Social Security for deposits, PG&E for autopay debits, etc., and get all the electronic others up to date.
It seems reasonable, straight forward.
Some of these entities do handle this well, like Social Security. Others have their customer service located in India, with a representative who speaks indecipherable English. The PG&E procedure didn't work. My existing online account had to be closed, and a new one created to store the new data, with all the other info entered again. Going through the list, I discover an incredible range of ways.
It becomes a flood. The details are flotsam and jetsam in a wave of unpredictable events over which I have little or no control.
But I have other modes of expression, appropriate to the zeitgeist. There is no medically sound reason for writing this, no explanation for why some of these words come to mind. The Scream, by Edvard Munch, a ghost drifting out of dreams, is followed by Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night. Google for them and notice a similarity, shown in in the sky. Likewise in televised news we see, on the one hand, civil riots, mass murders, suicide attacks, and on the other hand, scientific achievements, voyages to Neptune, voyages to the far side of the moon. Or consider aspects of the internet, with beneficial communications and long range weather models, but on the other hand cyber fraud. Consider the Janus mask of facial recognition, or Artificial Intelligence which completes our sentences, and threatens to supersede us. Dutifully, I record them.
So we're rolling. Twinkie gets it. Though it's 2AM, she suddenly bounds in, leaving her comfortable chair in the living room. Now she's curled up next to my leg and squinches her eyes in contentment.
To begin – but what if there is no beginning? Then all that is, was, or is not comes next. All that is or is not is relevant. That ought to cover it.
The universe comprises all, from which we are not apart. To know this is to know the self, without reference to a beginning. Then it is possible to begin anywhere one happens to be. Thus logic escapes itself, and squirrel understands that walnuts appear on the fence.
Anywhere is good enough. In the midst of danger is opportunity. Climate change is a disaster in the midst of learning. Note that when fire leapt from a pile of sticks to marsh gas, civilization had stumbled on an energy bonanza. This eventually reduced the need for labor (for some), stimulated agriculture to produce more food (and over population). As digging for the source succeeded in bringing up more fossil fuels, prosperity was celebrated. And at first the side effects were not noticed. But now we find the climate spiraling out of equilibrium.
As the disaster gets relevant attention, what comes next will be a correction. Or not. The course of civilization, if it is to continue,will be changed by collective efforts. To be effective, these must be tutored not by self-interest, certainly not by continuing any Ponzi schemes, but by paying attention to our teacher, who is now becoming obvious. Note carefully, this teacher defers to no institution and is not flattered by attention. Through mutual co-operation with the biosphere, of which we are a part, we may arrive at another way of living that incorporates what has been learned, and what is being learned right now
What's been set down here comes to no grand finale. Let's hope there is none.
