THE HARSH REALITY OF OUR IMMINENT DOOM: GOOD FUCKIN’ RIDDANCE!

Walls of Ice

A couple of days ago I heard that the world’s Greenhouse Gases, of which Carbon Dioxide (CO2) is the most noxious one, have reached an all-time high. It apparently is the first time this has happened in millions of years. In fact, the last time similar levels were seen, according to the news reports, were when the Arctic was entirely ice-free, something like four billion years ago, when sea levels were 40 meters higher than today, and when the world was blanketed by seemingly infinite Savannah.

It worried me greatly to hear this, though it unfortunately also confirmed something of which I’ve been convinced for a long time: that thanks to our selfish, obsessive and institutionalized pursuit of material wealth, we are finally, as Marilyn Manson once said, “on our way down, now…”

The boob-tube rightly pointed to the rise in CO2 levels, which “picked up,” it said, “since industrialization,” as the main cause for this shameful and stupid ‘accomplishment.’ More specifically, it referred to human activity in terms of “burning gas and coal” as the main perpetrator (though not the only one: it also mentioned breathing and when plants died).

Of course, as I said, The Fear was already in me from long before hearing such calamities, though the news had renewed and invigorated it, for I had allowed it to wane in recent months, perhaps blinded by the transient pleasantness of warm, sunny days. Then yesterday, and again today, I saw more reports of natural catastrophes, though one in particular shocked me as much as hearing about our new ‘record.’

I heard about forest fires that consumed nearby neighbourhoods, though that wasn’t new and did not surprise me; it was just another dose of the real-life horror we are now living, and which is surely to blossom into full apocalyptic chaos for the generations unfortunate enough to come after us. But the thing that made my nuts and all the nerves in my body shrink with fear, was seeing a wall of ice about nine meters high, creeping in from the sea, slowly engulfing a tree that stood all by its lonesome self in the middle of a field…almost seeming petrified to move in the face of this roaring, blob of ice.

Today in the morning, I saw another report of a similar case where walls of ice had crept right up to people’s houses, destroying most of the wooden homes as the monster just continued moving ahead.

No Silver-Lining

Over the last decade, but perhaps more consciously over the last five years, I – as many others – have been noticing that our weather patterns grow more and more erratic every year; that the magnitude and type of natural disasters have both increased and varied, accordingly; and I’ve noticed that this doesn’t seem to scare many people.

I guess it makes sense that the world isn’t running around in a panic and crying about their doomed futures…Or does it? Many of the important things in life, I’ve noticed, don’t get done, or don’t get that first impetus, until catastrophe has hit, or until something very ugly has pressed for the necessity to do something. “You don’t know what you have until you’ve lost it,” has never sounded more appropriate. The only difference is that in that maxim, after you lose it, you gain a new perspective and try to do better next time. In the case of Mother Earth, however, once we lose her…We’re Shit Out of Luck.

Unfortunately, there is no upside here; there is no positive spin I can now write in here. I was thinking of how to follow that last sentence: perhaps, I thought, saying something about how it is in our hands to change it before it’s too late…But the absurdity of that statement hit me like a sack of jagged stones…There is no silver-lining anymore; there is no upside; there is nothing we can, in fact, do to save ourselves anymore. The generations that will come after us, I’m sure, will only inherit a living hell, at least until the species itself can no longer withstand the harsh and unforgiving climates…which of course wouldn’t be a bad thing…perhaps it is time for a renewal…to start from zero…and perhaps without us.

Just Let the Sun In!

When the “scare” about 2012 was still around, it almost became laughable to even suggest that the Mayans were onto something with their prediction. Of course, as with most of the important things in life, the truth of the matter (of their “predictions”) got thwarted and corrupted. In the end, much like it happens when you play “broken telephone,” the original idea had completely gotten lost in translation: the notion of Imminent and Life-Altering Change had been usurped by the stupid rumour of “doomsday.”

But to those who weren’t swept up in the hoopla of rumour, hyperbole or sensationalism, the idea that the Sun was to enter a new phase of expansion was a very real danger, since the science behind it proved that it could have dire repercussions here on Earth.

Mayan predictions have reportedly foreseen the coming of various eras of our time, including our agricultural and industrial revolutions. It wouldn’t be entirely farfetched to think that they had also calculated that the mixture of growing populations and heavier industrialization would lead to high levels of pollution that would, in effect, worsen the effects the Earth would be feeling from the Sun’s fifth phase of expansion. But that is irrelevant. What matters are the facts: that the Sun has, indeed, entered its fifth phase of expansion (confirmed by science), which, among other things, can cause massive solar flares that could reach and penetrate Earth’s very weak ozone layer, which, again, has only been weakened by the CO2 we’ve produced.

Natural disasters are, as we’ve already seen, a reality that continues to assault the world indiscriminately, even in places that traditionally would not see certain types of disasters for this or that reason (not near fault-lines, not appropriate temperatures/climates, etc). As scientists have long been stating, due to the rise in CO2 levels, oceans remain polluted for thousands of years as the CO2 does not simply leave. This changes ecosystems and causes the type of severe and erratic weather patterns I described above.

But the solar flares also have the potential to literally throw us back to the dark ages.

As it already happened in Quebec sometime in the ’80s or ’90s, solar flares, when strong enough, can interfere with our power grids, leaving entire cities without any electricity.

In today’s globalized world (and one where the Market, through places like Wall Street, reigns supreme), the lack of electricity in major cities would be infinitely catastrophic. The collapse of electricity would lead to the collapse of transportation, communications, trading, economics, etc. The entire world would be cut off from itself.

There was a documentary whose title I cannot remember now, which spoke precisely of all these things (I’ll try to find it and post it up). It went into great detail about what would happen if we are thrown in the dark for just a few hours, for a few days and for a few months. The results were globally fatal by the time we reached a few days!

Again, there is no silver-lining to any of this. I think we brought it upon ourselves.

Perhaps the only way to really save our species (not only our kids and their kids – that would be selfish), is to fully abolish our addiction to oil and, more importantly, to consumerism, which is what drives our consumption of oil in the first place. I have even had the fortune of meeting some individuals who do everything in their power to adhere to this philosophy of sustainability, and they’ve made my life that much better. But all my hopes (in regards to the survival of our species in the face of what we’ve done to Mother Nature) are now gone…

And Good Fuckin’ Riddance, too!

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On a related note, the Canadian government is up in arms, enraged at the EU for even thinking of calling the Tar Sands “Dirty” Oil. They say there is no scientific evidence for it. They swear to start a trade-war over this.

Enough said?

THE BEAST GETS CLOSER…IT GROWS BIGGER

Originally written on Sunday, May 5, 2013

4:43 p.m.

A Much Needed Change of Pace

I’ve just returned from a small, personal excursion to the London Museum of Archeology and the Medway Valley Heritage Forest, IMG_20130503_205244 which seems to surround the former. Despite the Museum’s small size (it was just a bit bigger than my apartment, minus the separate/divided rooms) it held a few interesting artifacts and facts about the First Nations that settled in and around Canada. These included the tribes that settled at the Lawson Site, which apparently bordered the edge of what now is the Museum; at the back, past the parking lot, a re-creation of that village had been propped up, displaying a Longhouse (and a smaller Longhouse), Tents and a few other landmarks that created a vague, though palpable resemblance of what those pre-modern times of hunting and gathering must’ve looked like. But more inviting that the Museum itself, at least to me, were both the forest behind the recreated Lawson Village and the Heritage Forest, the latter of which I traversed until I found a nice, quiet place by a stream that seemed to flow with crystal-clear water, and where I sat alone with my thoughts as I tried to return to those simpler times, traveling inside a cloud of smoke that seemed to linger in the air for just a few moments before entirely vanishing, just like those figures in my mind…Yes, it was among all that nature that I felt the most free.

The path was long and sinuous, resembling a snake that stood still. The sun was beaming with full force, though its strength diminished a bit since it had to poke through the foliage that rested so very high above my head, at the very tips of awesomely huge trees which seemed to, indeed, scrape the sky. At my sides, through the intricate web of trees and branches that separated the darkness and bowels of the forest from my apparently forsaken path, an orchestra formed and carried me along with its tune: a marvelous melody of birds’ songs that repeated their beautiful pattern with clock-like precision every four seconds or so, and then the response from their aviary comrades which would come shortly thereafter, extending and fulfilling a melody that uttered a love story. The shrubs shrouded from time to time, and twigs snapped as little but lightning-fast feet scurried around the floral-maze…It almost felt like eyes were peering at me from behind the bushes, but they were kind eyes – at least they felt as such – which made the path no longer feel deserted and forsaken, but rather like a live, breathing organism that accompanied me. The Snake, it seemed, had regained its life…And perhaps, I felt, it was my presence that had had something to do with it.

As I continued walking, enjoying that serenade emanating from within the very Soul of the Forest, the peculiarity of being alone in a new place – though not really alone – became apparent to me again, just as it had on those now long-gone days when I had traveled the Venezuelan streets alone, armed with nothing but my recorder, my pen and enough money to refuel on ice-cold beers. Yes, the magnificently impactful experience of being alone in a new city, or country, or forest, or house, will never leave me…I’m not sure if that is an experience that most travelers share; I have met so many experienced travelers from all over the world and with so many IMG_20130505_142025different personalities, goals, vices and stories, that a really focused conversation or analysis of their feelings at being alone once again has never materialized. But, as in many things in life, and without at all descending into that banal “individualism,” which really is egoism (and, sometimes, border-line anti-social tendencies), that plagues most of the world, if not all of it, I must admit that in this case, the feelings of other travelers on the matter is really of no concern to me, at least in regards to my purposes, which focus on deep and critical self-analyzing and on the creation/implementation of a revolutionary process for self-evolution.

Into the Grinder

What I mean by all of that, is that I’ve realized that it is when I’m thrown head-first into the Grinder that I feel most alive, most free, most useful. I wither with routine; I find myself rotting, both from the inside and the outside, whenever I have (or choose) to do the exact same thing every day…and that includes the things that my eyes see, that my ears hear and which, thus, create the images and ideas that my brain propels. It is the excitement and panic that I feel – the Fear and Loathing, in the words of the Good Doctor – that seem so wild and pleasing at the same time. It is knowing that things have changed, that the walls have morphed, that the ground has gained life. It is knowing that at any given time, I may find the Stairs that Lead Straight Up, just as likely as I may find the Elevator that Plunges Downwards. It is knowing that happiness and utter despair are both new friends and foes that wait for and lurk behind me, and that I may come out all the better at the other side precisely because of them. It is knowing that I am taking steps nearing either the Head or the Tail of Snake…but that I am, indeed, taking them.

As a matter of fact, I will never forget the steps I already had the pleasure of taking in Mexico, or Cuba, or Venezuela.

Particularly in the latter – in the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela – I experienced some of the most amazing things in my life, including, in its own way, a desolation of the soul that blinded me from any reason and which nearly destroyed my sanity and my health…Yes, for some odd reason – and certainly without being a masochist, for I abhor unnecessary pain (and likewise, cherish the opposite) – even those depressing experiences taught me something; they made my brain and my thoughts react a certain way which, sooner or later, would come to form some of the most powerful convictions in me. Of course, in retrospect, if I could choose to do things differently – to have taken a different path among the Long Snake that was that trip – I certainly would do so; but, for that, I’d need to think like I do now, which is physically/metaphysically/mentally and any other kind of degree of impossible, given that it was precisely those experiences from which I learned and eventually evolved into the Beast that I am today…Indeed, as a Wise Fool once said, He who makes a Beast of Himself, gets rid of the Pain of Being a Man….And pain, there is!

And it is in this way that my experiences here in London thus far, and those to come over the course of the next year, are surely to teach me something…For much more than just becoming a Journalist – a profession which I admire with all the Integrity in me, and which I’ve devoted myself to entirely – my time here will be used more like narcotics for an addled brain: uppers, downers, herbs, medicines, whatever you want to call it, the experiences will all cause new chemical reactions, feelings, thoughts and behaviours to go along with it. And all of this will accumulate to a Refined Me; to an individual that, much like the Snake, has Shed its Old Skin. The essence remains – the soul is intact – but the Ideas Grow.

The Individual who Propels the Great Wheel

I remember thinking at some point today – as I rode the bus through what I could only describe as one of the quaintest towns/cities wherein I’ve had the pleasure of residing, however briefly – that while it is very true that Ideas Never Die – a maxim not only true and widely known, but which has regained its fervour after the unfortunate death of Commander Hugo Chavez – they are insufficient to really Propel the Great Wheel forward. As important and powerful as they are, it’d be a sin (to put a religious twist in there) to allow the Idea to remain static and to eventually become sedentary, if not regressive, within the context of the ever-changing societies and conditions around the world. I had in mind, at that moment, the aforementioned events of Chavez’s death, and the subsequent battle between the two opposing (political) sides.

Though it is very true, again, that the Movement and Revolutionary Fervour that he revived in Latin America will continue – for, as we’ve agreed, Ideas Never Die – the Greatness and the Supremacy (not in terms of class or any other such exclusionary terms, but rather in a sense of greater preparedness, both physically and ideologically), of the Individual (now in the true sense of the word) is vital…Nay, Unforgivably Necessary!

Indeed, to conclude with the Venezuelan example and the political implications for the Latin American continent, if we allow the ideas that Chavez left as his legacy – what we could, to use his own term, call 21st Century Socialism – to stagnate, to become an unchanging model, then it only becomes dogmatic; worst, it becomes antagonistic to the context of the society. My faith resides fully with President Maduro, for he’s proven himself capable – at least thus far, in his short terms as both interim- and elected-president – to not only continue Chavez’s legacy, but to nourish it and allow it to Grow and Evolve. Nevertheless, new Individuals must be born and moulded with the Revolutionary Ideas that are overtaking the Continent, so that they may lead said Ideas towards their Ideal – so that they may continue to nourish them and perfect them.

And it was with that thought, as I rode the bus, that I regained the consciousness of being, once again, alone in a new place…and with all the tools that are therefore necessary and available  to Mould a New Man out of myself…To pry deeper into my Real Self; into all my “Wild Dogs,” as Nietzsche would say. For my ideas and convictions, as ingrained and solid as I know they are, hunger for Change and Evolution and Progress

Alas, I am getting Closer to the Head of the Beast!!IMG_20130503_202245

******

Hasta la Victoria Siempre!

Patria, Socialismo o Muerte!