THE KNOWN UNKNOWN

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 10^th 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?