The human race, seriously now, has a need to grow up.
No, I haven’t just come to that conclusion, but I’m betting that thousands upon thousands of people are waking up to that inescapable statement.
Amid the clamour and horrors of the BP mass ecocide, followed shortly by the horrors of the Fukushima meltdown, there is one glaring point coming to light: to whit, not one of the people who were nominally in charge of these runaway pieces of technology had the slightest idea of how they really worked, and, when they got away from us – as technology has a tiresome history of doing – not one of the controlling human powers really knew what to do about it.
I’m a little bit more au fait with nuclear physics than with deep sea geology, so my reaction to the unfolding, and largely hidden, catastrophe at Fukushima cut a little deeper and faster than when the Deepwater rig exploded-what, just last year?
The moment that first hydrogen explosion took place all my danger senses were fully alert, and my dreams deeply troubled. But, if you can believe this guy, we don’t know the half of it. I’m inclined to give credence to much of what he says there-and a careful reading of New Scientist and Nature online will back that conclusion up.
Like children with toys that no-one thought would harm them, mankind has let his technology run amok. Might we dare hope, for the last time?
I don’t know. I accept the heartbreak, depression and tears of all humans ( some of whom have proven themselves heroes by their actions – valiantly striving to contain the nuclear meltdown by deliberately sacrificing themselves, may the gods give them room at the banqueting table) who are in the least connected to this real earth, this real landbase, this real environment which sustains us. As for some of the others- chairmans-of-the-board and fat-walletted shareholders who should have been thrown headfirst into the ravine beneath reactor number 2-well, may they return again, to try again, until they start to get it right.
I sometimes think that it’s a pity that humanity doesn’t have something like the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood to ride herd on us until we mature sufficiently to handle the products of our wild technological imaginings. But maybe we do. All the living world can be our allies, teaching us,if we open our senses to it, how to live upon and within the matrix of life, the great field of Love which sustains every cricket, every blade of grass, every mountain range, every star. But we have to be receptive to seeing and accepting such allies for this to work. Meanwhile, they go on, trying to get us to learn these lessons anyway.
For myself, I envision my Being as the reflection of a flock of birds in an endlessly placid lake: still moving, not sticking, flowing through, over and around this vale of horror. Birds over water. Bearing witness.