Again, I'm not a scientist nor investigative journalist, and am ashamed to say I'm far too ignorant and forgetful of so many facts of our world. I'm also conscious that I'm by nature pretty sunny side up optimistic (despite, and possibly partly because of, having worked with some of our culture's most vulnerable people), which might well blind me to sad and scary realities. All this spluttering preamble is leading to: I don't think I agree that it is too late to change ourselves and others so that we can prevent runaway global warming and ultimately fatal crises for many species including our own. I increasingly think that it needs a fundamental awareness shift: not only in scientific understanding and psychology of delusions etc, but also in some kind of 'spirituality' - what's it all about, at biggest picture level! And I'm increasingly pessimistic about how and when that shift might happen, as well as the (significant) detail of whether we're reached greenhouse gas levels of no return. But despite all that, I feel we must live and act in hope.
Where I'm at now is the vaguely comforting belief that however it pans out, living more closely and respectfully with the land and with people is a good plan! If it's not too late to prevent runaway climate change and economic/social collapse (whether from lack of physical resources, financial implosions, or nuclear explosions etc), then local fossil-fuel free food production, resources sharing, renewable energy using, etc, is part of 'our little bit', as well as hopefully being a useful model to others. And if it is too late, and/or peak oil / water shortages / collapsing socio-economic structures cause chaos... well, living as self-sufficiently as possible, in a community which shares skills & knowledge as well as love & support (with everyone as well as internally) is probably going to be as resilient as can be. And hey, for any die-hard sceptics out there, and in case we've got climate change, peak everything, spirally debt and their implications so wrong (if only): well, living closer to and in 'nature' is simply good for you - it might be cold wet hard work with annoying people sometimes, but really, you learn loads and feel better in body, mind and spirit.
Of course, communities exist in all sorts of ways in family and friendship groups, city allotments, residents associations, faith groups, the pub etc etc; and many naturally respond to, or will respond to, very challenging scenarios. I'm very happy though that there are communities consciously looking at these issues - be it the burgeoning network of Transition towns / neighbourhoods, or the variety of small urban or rural communities such as Trelay (see Diggers and Dreamers for many more!) I feel very lucky to be part of this conscious community, looking at how we can do things better (albeit with a long way to go), as a tiny drop of energy looking at both crisis prevention, and crisis resilience.
I'm
excited by the discovery of this network of committed
environmentalists and humans looking at creative and reflective
responses to our changing world and place in it. However dark it becomes, it's obviously great to have places (online and in books, in meetings and festivals) where people can express serious concerns and hopes, feelings and ideas, panics and plans; and learn, share, meet. From what I've
seen of Dark Mountain so far, I really commend the movement and site! I'm also fascinated by Paul's latest book - although I 'studied' 1066 at many points including at A Level, this is the first time I've come across the story of the longer aftermath of the invasion from a first-person Anglo-Saxon perspective. It seems to exemplify 'Dark Mountain' not only in its content (how does it feel to live through the uprooting of your civilisation?), but also in its methodology (using a literally radical language, and kind of radical form of crowd-sourced publishing!) One last link here to a whiff of 'The Wake', and maybe even how to support/buy..
Well, enough commendation and cogitation for now. Off to take the washing off
the whirlygig before another dose of the Atlantic, and then a cycle
down to the sea to view the glorious dark mountain of Crackington
Cliff as November Rain falls (think I'll need to do better than make
crap reference to Guns n Roses if I want to be part of any cultural
response, even if the lyrics are vaguely kind of apt..)
post script:
Well,
it was mizenly, yes, but not raging. And cycling out of Trelay and
along the lane, I looked back and saw the most glorious complete
rainbow. I'm certainly not implying that our new home is a pot of
gold, but hey, it popped in there from where I sat! Down, down, down
the hill to The Haven, my wheels ever faster and hands
ever colder, the sea appearing, and looking blue! Beautiful light on
the rockpools and rocks of the beach, the sun low and crisp before
dipping over the lower headland to the west and oozing the horizon
golden pink.
As I reflect on the Dark Mountain manifesto, I think it's not only beautifully crafted and arrestingly provocative, but also strangely really positive. Not just in its historical and contemporary awareness, openness, honesty; but also - as I interpret it - spiritual hope. Yes, we may well be going down as a civilisation, and if so, surely with significantly less innocent joy as my cold but giddy freewheel to Crackington. Yet where we'll end up can be, should be, a place far closer to nature in all its vast rawness, and wild beauty. 'Uncivilisation' in this sense is no bad thing. It's not just about 'energy descent' (as in the Transition movement's response to climate change and peak oil - important though that is); but also descent of collective and individual human ego so that we can make radically better relationships within and outwith our species, AND with our souls and the infinite Spirit. Falls of empire are tumultous and sometimes terrifying at the time; and the great mystics endured long dark nights of the soul in deserts huge and cold. We must face up to the reality that water flows always down the mountain, hill, plain, and cliff (if not burnt up to fall again) - sometimes fast, sometimes slow; and that our time might well soon become faster and wilder again. I hope and believe, somewhere deep in my waters, that the infinite ocean will ultimately ultimately receive us all; that even for spray blown back up the waterfalls, all will be well.
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| Young lady photographing the sea |
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| Old lady playing with seaweed |
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| Energy ancient Hardened, smoothed to sand, dissolved Autumnal decay |
