Civilization and all of its discontents has been gestated and
birthed in ego as if domination and control of the earth, its
inhabitants, and even oneself is the
raison d'etre-the meaning
of life. Civilization and the empires it has endlessly created have
been constructed on the illusion that we are what we possess, what we
control, what we achieve. All of the great spiritual teachers have told
us otherwise and have reminded us incessantly that behind that tapestry
of egoic productivity is who we really are-a more profound spiritual
essence-a light that shines from behind and through the tapestry. Some
people call it "god", some call it "nature", some call it "faith in the
human spirit", others call it the Self.
What collapse is
demanding from us is not the destruction of ego but the diminishing of
it so that the Self can flourish and expand. Otherwise, how would it be
possible to build anything, if anything is to be built, on the ashes of
what has collapsed? When Sharon Astyk asks us to "do it anyway" because
it's the right thing, she's really suggesting, whether intentionally or
not, that we allow the Self to act and ego to take a back seat.
Likewise, when Heinberg says that if we concentrate on what makes our
species worth saving we win no matter what, he's alluding to,
intentionally or not, the light behind the tapestry on which we must
now focus at the expense of the ego's fear, frustration, rage, and
sorrow in the face of collapse.
In this sense then, collapse forces us to march in a funeral procession toward the end of life as we have known it-
and the end of ourselves as we have known them.
And who, I ask, would willingly sign up for this? I'm no longer
mystified by the masses of Americans who refuse to look at collapse
because I know exactly why they won't-not now, and maybe ever. I myself
am only beginning to grasp what it takes to look into the face of
collapse, unstintingly take in its ramifications, and not run to assume
the fetal possession under many layers of blankets. It's really bloody
hard, I mean really, really hard!
But just as we don't get to
avoid our physical death, we don't get to avoid the death of
ego-somehow, somewhere, sometime. So if we've awakened to collapse,
we're part of a funeral procession, and we're marching toward the end
of who we thought we were so that who we really are can be revealed.
For me, that's something to be celebrated, even as I know that millions
of people and other life forms are going to die in the process of
collapse including possibly myself. The ability to confront
contradiction, or paradox, is inherent in human consciousness and is
one factor among many that distinguishes us from other species.
Therefore, on another level, when I witness the rapid unfolding of collapse, when I witness
people abandoning their cars
because they can't afford to put gas in them, when I see banks failing,
bankruptcy and foreclosure statistics going off the charts, schools
closing, healthcare collapsing, oil prices skyrocketing and impacting
everything else, and when a plethora of other evidence that collapse is
well underway is ubiquitous, I weep-yes sincerely weep, and but yet
another part of me says, "It's party time!"
If that takes you
aback, then you haven't yet grasped that only as a result of the total
unraveling and the end of life as we've known it, can this planet and
the insanity that created its demise be transformed. I'm not
guaranteeing that it
will be transformed, but I know unequivocally that there isn't the slightest possibility of its transformation without collapse.
For this among many other reasons, I refuse to participate in the
national election charade that "just might make things better." When I
reflect on this perspective, I'm reminded of my grandmother who died of
breast cancer at the age of 77 in the late 1960s. Tragically, my
grandmother was not allowed to just die. For seven years before her
passing she was pumped up with experimental cancer drugs that prolonged
her life--and her horrifying misery. No doubt the "research" performed
on her resulted in significant advances in cancer treatment, yet truth
be told, today's treatment of cancer leaves more than a little to be
desired. All my grandmother really wanted to do was get on with her
evolution and simply die, yet the empire-based "disease conquest" model
insisted that she live-and live in abject agony.
I must
confess that sometimes when I hear the hopeful hype of progressive
Democrats who argue that Obama can save us, I think of my grandmother.
Some things, people, institutions, and empires just need to die
(literally or symbollically), and until they do, we will all be
subjected to prolonged anguish. So yes, I'm marching in a funeral
procession called the death of civilization, and there will be and are
tears along the way, but there is as much to celebrate as there is to
mourn.
Today's news reports that
localvore movements are now becoming mainstream;
more people are using public transportatin and staying at home rather
than traveling or commuting; recycling and shopping at auctions and
thrift stores is becoming the norm; Hummers are heading for the dustbin
of mechanical history, and consumers are rejecting SUV's
en masse;
increasingly people are being forced to live within their means and
either voluntarily reject indebtedness or drown in it which compels
them to make purchases only when they have the money to do so. Please
understand that I do not perceive these new developments as signals
that collapse can be averted but rather that collapse is compelling
human beings to live differently. This new behavior will neither save
the earth nor the human species, but it is very likely to implement
over time a foundation for a new way of being, thinking, and living
post-collapse that will be a mixture of grueling and gratifying.
It is now obvious that collapse has a life of its own; it, not we, are
in charge. There is much we can do in response to it, but nothing we
can do to prevent it. Each day that I report the daily news to readers
and subscribers, I grieve a bit more than the day before, and at the
same time, the sigh of relief from my body grows longer and larger. So
many tragic endings making possible so many new beginnings. The funeral
has begun, AND it's party time.
Writings 
Subscribe to this comment's feed
