In the spring of 2014 I
visited what was the end of the known
world in Spain, circa 900 AD. Many pilgrims on The Way of Saint James would
visit the coastal village of Fisterra after reaching the Cathedral in Santiago
de Compostela. Staring at the grey Atlantic from the rock shore beneath the
lighthouse, I contemplated where I was. Finis
terrae. Land’s end. The end of the
world. A millennia ago pilgrims traveled hundreds of kilometers, over many months,
to get there. It was the goal after the
goal. And so, while it was “the end” of their journey, it would also mark a
new beginning. What was it for me?
As I looked out at the
grey, heaving sea, it struck me, somewhat dramatically, that we are all, every
night, at the end of the world we know. Darkness
closes around us and we go to sleep believing in the next day. Our dreams
contribute to believing that tomorrow will show up and it will be like today.
But the violent and
disturbing conflicts and extreme natural events occurring on the planet cannot easily
be dismissed. It seems highly likely, as I place my head on my pillow, I am truly
at the end of the known world. And
while it is true tomorrow has never been just like today, the scale of change
and risk, to the familiar, to safety, to security – guarantees significant
surprise. Today the river of time runs faster. What does the future hold for
life?
A deluge of calamitous reports.
Illegal immigrants: to Gibraltar; from North Africa; from Malaysia; to
Australia; to Italy; from Mexico; from El Salvador ; from Guatemala. Refugees
fleeing conflict in: Iraq, Syria, Somalia, Central African Republic, Sudan,
Democratic Republic of Congo. Civil disturbances - Egypt, Syria, Libya, Israel,
Palestine, Pakistan, Central African Republic, Tibet, Ukraine, Nigeria, Kenya.
What percentage of the
world’s population must try to sleep in the shadow of these disruptions?
And then there is
weather. With increasing frequency our climate delivers conditions hostile to
life as we know it. Wild fires, super storms, flooding, typhoons and
hurricanes, drought, shrinking glaciers, disappearing arctic ice, methane
releases, ocean acidification. And these identified accelerators of climate
change are themselves accelerating.
So, as I take to bed, the
world I have known for seventy years shrinks further into a not so distant vanishing
point. Humans must adapt, more quickly, more radically, than we ever have in
our short presence on the planet. And we do not have the resilience or
endurance of the water bear, the horseshoe crab or the cockroach.
If I am a responsible
citizen, what can I do? Move somewhere where water was abundant, land was
fertile, climate was, historically at least, temperate, and prepare to be self reliant?
But the ‘back to the land’ ethos that was so captivating in the ‘60s, is not a sufficient
response to the end of the known world.
No more than taking cloth bags to the grocery, recycling newspaper, driving
less, consuming less.
My choices around
consumption, recycling, reusing, reducing, are insignificant at the scale of
the planet. The behaviors may serve as models for others. If they are visible. If
I talk about them. If I share my motivation. But even if everyone I come in
contact with, and they in turn come in contact with, mirror my actions, we will
still not touch the scale of the problem.
My friend Steve,
teaching environmental politics in a political science department of a western
college for over 20 years, shifted from teaching “mitigation” to “adaptation”
as he recognized the impact of the “anthropocene.” An appealing and deeply
rational shift as a response to the unknown scale of future calamities. Generate
a capability to adapt because we are at the
end of the known world! Learn nimbleness and flexibility. And, play reduce, reuse, recycle as a major chord
in the music of dynamic adaptation.
However, there are more
troubling facts about the context of our lives. The United States, citizens,
corporeal and corporate, extract 40% of the resources taken from the planet.
For, nominally, 5% of the global population. Perhaps reducing my ‘share‘ to an
eighth of what it has been would set things aright – in my mind at least. But
again, as with motor vehicle exhaust, my passenger vehicle is an insignificant
contributor. The engines of our culture, (trucking, two stroke engines, diesel
equipment, air travel, etc.) contribute in an over-weighted manner,
uninfluenced by the behavior of individuals. And the global rate of extraction
of planetary resources would require almost two planets like ours to be
sustainable. And that rate is increasing.
Yet in the face of all
of this, I pretty much keep on as I have been.
Walking the Camino,
reciting the mantra: Thank you. Thank
you. I am so grateful.
But then I imagine, with
serious trepidation, the world my granddaughter is growing into. She will be 40
in 2050. What will the world be like then? CO2 concentrations in the
atmosphere? Food supply? Fresh water? Economic disruption? Human migration?
Looking forward like that
sends shivers down my spine. To be at the
end of the known world. Unlike the pilgrims of the 10th century,
I can not, we cannot, turn around and go back where we came from. We have no
choice but to go forward. But how, and to where?
Leaving Fisterra, I rode
up the coast 50 km to Moxia, meaning “land of the monks” in Galician. The goal,
after the goal, after the goal! After St. James’ remains were found near
Fisterra and removed to Santiago de Campostella, Moxia became a center of
activity for the advance of Christianity in Galicia. Previously settled by
Celts and other northerners, there were, near Moxia, many biomorphic rock
formations, including ‘balance rocks’ eroded in a way that they could be moved
by the wind. Many of these formations had names and had been sites for pagan
worship and ritual. The Christian monks who arrived appropriated these geologic
featurs and embedded them in Christian myths they created. For example, one
large balance rock was “the ship that brought the Virgin Mary to Galicia.” When
she disembarked, it turned to stone, but still rocks in high winds as if at
sea. This appropriation of the objects of previous mythologies served the needs
of an expanding Christian presence.
Perhaps, more than
recycling newspaper and reusing plastic bags, we must appropriate the myths of contemporary
society and shape new ones that can reach people’s consciousness. Myths that
inform the heart. That demonstrate how we must stop devouring our planet. Showing
how to live as if we are a part of it, not entitled to consume it.
There is a blog, The End of the Known World – an invitation
to dialog around the following questions:
How can I conduct my
life today, so that examined 40 or 100 years from now, it can stand as a
morally defensible set of choices? What can I do against the tide of declining human
viability? Our species has abandoned patterns of living which respect the
sanctity and interconnection of all life. What does it look like to live in
opposition to this abandonment? How should I choose to live and behave and
report on my choices? How can I be responsible to life?
How are you navigating The End of the Known World?
I invite you to enter
this conversation. On the blog. Via email. How should we live with this knowing,
yet making a difference toward survival, renewal, affection, caring?
How can I protect my granddaughter
from a threatening and dystopian future?
