So much beauty, so little care

Imagine a lifeless but still life-supporting planet — just.

Well that, I believe, is where we’re headed.

And it saddens me greatly; it’s almost beyond words.

I recognise that not everyone feels so disconnected from nature to treat it so harshly but we’re not talking about the last few years, no, we’re talking hundreds of years. And it shows.

Some people believe that it’s not too late; I’m not one of them. It’s clear to me that the Gods have spoken and we’re answering their Anthropocentric call. Like my parents used to say:

When it’s gone, it’s all gone.

That’s not to say the picture isn’t completely hopeless, but we’re so far away from where we need be that we all know, surely, that even if we stopped our earth-destroying/polluting ways tomorrow, we’d still be paying a very heavy price for all that comfort-seeking must-havery.

You might ask, what keeps me going? I’m not sure. It’s no coincidence that I’ve drifted towards a set of writers that paint a very bleak picture of life and us, not least because they too have been asking questions along the lines of: what’s the point of the human race? Exactly that. What’s the point? To procreate? I don’t think so. Let’s face it: the world doesn’t need us but we sure as hell need it. It’s the only life-support system that really matters.

Part of me, the darker, nihilistic SOB would very much like to see us all wiped out before it’s too late but that sounds so cold, so denuded of love that I’m shocked to even think such thoughts. But then again, what’s the alternative? A miracle? I jest of course but I’m simply not of the mind where I believe any — I mean any — of the hyperbolic, crazed language that’s replete now on the greenwashing airwaves. If we could just dial it down a bit, well, I might be a little less likely to laugh to myself and say: “Are you f* serious”.

Still, there’s always another day — for now — and the fact that I show up, write, have my say and continue to face my own failings, is more than enough to soothe my grief-stricken soul.

Onwards dear readers, onwards.

Blessings,

— Julian

Spiritual and cultural activist