A new year—and nature as an antidote to nonsensical times
“The blog needs to reflect who I am, *now*—not who I was *then*.”
I've often written about change. About the logarithmic acceleration of time, and the balm provided by urgency where control is unachievable. When our son was born I turned to photography as a paralyzing agent, a way to silence the incessant clamor of motion. I see this now. And the pull was such that the camera became my full-time job—swallowing music, editing, multimedia, tv production. The voracious need to capture every moment expanded way beyond our growing family. It had too. And I was lucky, because it worked: doors opened, relationships appeared, gigs came up, an entire community conjured up as if by magic. Impossible friendships. Opportunities. The whole enchilada.
The language of photography still moves me, but I've tamed the hunger which was such an integral part of the experience. That this would coincide with our kids leaving home is almost poetic.
Like the tide, receding.
...
I spent the holidays trying to get away from the news, pushing off any thoughts of the future. Hard to do given the spectacle of journalistic capitulations, bribery, and the pathetic justifications of those who lack the courage to own their actions. All this as manifest destiny rears its ugly, imperialistic head again. We do live in interesting times.
I'd love to say I'm above it all, wave my principles around by boycotting every company now bowing before this old, unhinged overlord (1). But it's unrealistic. Unless we move to a log cabin, disconnect from the world, buy reams of paper, and spend our days gazing at the woodlands.
I've chased and dreamed technology my entire adult life. But now I'm not so sure I accept the proposition anymore. As the tools of empowerment transform into machines of displacement, it's become obvious how undeserving, and devoid of vision—real, positive, vision—today's tech leaders are. All of them. I'm not about to abandon technology, but I no longer trust in the future those companies are choosing to pursue, damn the consequences.
I intend to look elsewhere.
I started reading The Light Eaters, by Zoë Schlanger, and it triggered the sort of excitement I hadn't felt in a long time. Mainly because the book touches on a subject I've been increasingly interested in: scientific explorations into non-human consciousness, and behaviours. The idea that other organisms experience, and react to, reality as intensely as we do. Everything we consider exclusively human—communication, gameplay, emotions, personality, individuality, intentionality—is being challenged by new discoveries in the fields of zoology, biology and botany, to name a few.
It sounds like woo woo ramblings but this is serious research. And really, how can we delude ourselves into believing we're the only life-form on Earth to be graced with awareness? That every other species simply functions based on mindless automations of the eat-drink-fuck-survive variety, without any sense of cognition, any knowledge of its surroundings, or its purpose? When we all come from the same genetic material, many of us sharing more common markers than differences.
God?
Anthropomorphism—which is often the ultimate insult hurled at any paper that hints at different forms of cognition—relies on the idea that human intelligence, behaviour, and consciousness, are the only valid definitions of those terms. This, in the face of scientific discoveries that constantly force us to re-examine established notions. We've found organisms in places where life was once considered empirically impossible. We've even named them extremophiles which is, again, based on our definition of an extreme habitat: there's nothing extreme about those environments to them, is there? Our worldview is prismatic, distorted by our limited senses, and a hubristic illusion of uniqueness.
History has shown that we behave, over and over again, just like the people living in Plato's cave: gazing at shadows, confident nothing else exists, or matters, until thrown out kicking and screaming into the light of day.
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So here's my antidote for what's likely to be the insanity of 2025: I intend to learn about the life that surrounds us. Here, in our immediate vicinity. I don't even know the name of the houseplant we've had in our living room, sitting by the window, for over twenty years. I'm extremely fond of it, and yet I've never bothered to look this up. Same goes for all the trees and shrubs and flowers and weeds in our back and front yards (2). I can identify a few—the maples trees, for instance. Yay me, I’m officially Canadian.
I see this as a way to connect in an increasingly disconnected landscape, and to show respect. Perhaps to focus my eye on less visible members of our family.
Happy New Year folks :)
1: Sorry, but I need to at least mention this since Trump reiterated the obscenity again yesterday: no, Canadians are NOT interested in becoming the 51st US state. Fuck. You.
2: Serendipity at work: a day after deciding to embark on this journey I read about The Comfort of Crows: A Backyard Year by Margaret Renkl. Bought it, but haven't started it yet.
