In a previous
post - which seems ages ago - I made the fantastical claim that one of
the chief spiritual tasks of this age is to come to terms with the possibility
that everything will suddenly be swept away. Possibility is an
important word here, but nonetheless, I'm aware it is quite a claim. Let's take
a look at that now.
Where the hell to start? Perhaps it would
help to establish the terms of the argument. What are we doing here? What does it mean for
something to end, and be swept away, or to begin and flourish? Why even frame
the argument like this? Let's start with an example.
There are some
pretty fantastical imaginings in this article,
and I really can't share the author's optimism. But it is always a good
exercise to take the long view, whether or not that view is through rose tinted
lens.
The article makes its case by referring to eons, or certain longer delineated periods in geological time, and by suggesting that we may be on the verge of a new eon entirely, one that is characterized by the peaceful stabilization of earth's destructive forces, thanks to our own conscious self-awareness and technological powers of transformation.
In the case of the article, the hope is that though human beings have achieved an unprecedented degree of expansion and material efficacy - oftentimes to destructive effect - perhaps we can evolve concurrently a certain level of self-conscious development, which will regulate the chaotic material forces that we embody, and eventually stabilize the planet for the long haul, ostensibly to bring about the uninterrupted domination - or perhaps stewardship, a nicer word - of the planet by our species in its present form. Which isn't a completely ridiculous idea, seeing as how we ourselves emerged from the earth as well - it is responsible for our environmental chaos.
Whether we are talking about eons, eras, epochs, or any other tiers of geological time, we usually define these units as delineated periods of distinct patterns - sometimes self-reinforcing to a point - which cohere, which are bounded, and then eventually end with changing climates, natural calamities, and die-off, among other end results. In the case of our current subjective experience as a species, and the empirical evidence that backs that experience up, the signs point overwhelmingly to an end.
Yet, there is a countervailing feeling, in constant tension with contrary evidence and experience, that what we have and what currently exists is here to stay for some time. This is a strange sense of continuity we have, at the edge of a precipice.
This is complicated by the fact that ends are beginnings, and eons, eras, and epochs bleed into one another. Further complicating our inquiry is the basic fact of ideological space, in which the subject doing the inquiring wishes to extend itself in accordance with its basic nature. One emotionally committed to the basic project of technological extension and scientific application is probably going to have some sort of utopic or dystopic vision stretching far into the future.
One
with differing emotional commitments - me for example - is going to have
differing visions that contradict or otherwise embark from the previous
vision.
When
talking about a time scale this long, one can't really make heads or tails of
what will happen, unless one constructs some sort of speculative future, in
accordance with one's nature and one's knowledge. A worthwhile project! But I
want to elaborate on an argument a little more basic. To repeat, how does one
spiritually come to terms with what can only be anticipated as profound change,
whatever its direction?
In the next post, I'll elaborate
on our strange ideological wilderness, and our tangled emotional commitments,
with a brief discussion on the national park system.
