eateggs

I drove past
a herd of antelope
today–
strong, free, proud.
Spirit of the West.

funny thing, though
these antelope
these antelope they stood
on a road, black pavement.

antelope, standing quietly.
on a road.

but wait: yesterday

i drove past
a crew of pavers.
hardened, brown, sweltering in the sun.
a new road for
a new subdivision

a field of grass
brown, green and waving
in the warm, wyoming wind.
the eye follows the fence
to the horizon. barbed wire.

except where it breaks:
an entrance for a new road.

what is this? so hard,
black, smooth, unnatural.
will our grass grow here?
can we run here now?

will we be pushed out?

their questions, or
mine. as I drove past
a herd of antelope today

standing (perhaps bewildered)
on a new, black road
for a new sub-division.

Here’s an empowering thought: culture isn’t static. The moment culture ceases to develop, to change, to be active and relevant, becomes little more than history. What’s more, culture is just a conglomeration of a thousand contributing members– the aggregate sum of everyone within the culture. So the empowering thought is this: we, as a generation of the 21st century, play a role in the development of our cultural tradition– American culture.

Though a bit trite, the point is this: we can be shaped by our culture, or we can shape our culture. And shaping our culture is a lot easier than one might think. It starts by awareness: becoming cognizant of one’s place and role within America. We are the next generation– the next generation of musicians, of business owners, managers, executives, etc, or politicians, of activists, of consumers– for better or for worse. We are a swelling mass pushing up from underneath. We are displacing what’s above us, and replacing with broader, bolder, distinctly 21st century ideas, trends, foods, styles, etc.

And we’re in control. It’s not the multi-billion dollar marketing corporations and not the flashy over-polished fashion shows that define what our trends are–what tomorrow’s style will be–it’s us. It’s the people who buy, or don’t buy, into the marketing schemes. It’s the people who buy, or don’t buy, a particular fashion. There’s a lot of different groups competing to help define our culture, but at the end of the day, it’s up to us to decide which groups we want to identify ourselves with.

So yeah–sure, MTV (for example) is one of these groups. MTV wants to define our culture. Period. To control what’s hip, stylish, trendy, etc. To tell us what music is valuable, and what music we can do without. And here’s the thing: as inheritors, and now possessors of American culture, we can choose to give or deny this right to MTV–and to a thousand other media and marketing conglomerates. How do we choose? Simple. Don’t tune in. Change the channel. Turn off your television.

The cool thing is, though, that we have a choice. To continue the MTV example, if we like what we see– if MTV is providing valuable, relevant programming, then by all means– endorse it! Support it! If it’s valuable, if it’s representative of yourself, of our generation, of how American culture should look, then we, as owners, can buy in to it. Support it. Watch it. Tell our friends about it. And if we don’t like it–remembering our place–we can turn it off. Change the channel. Start our own music television broadcasting station. Why not?

And it’s not just music. It’s not just pop-culture. It’s broad and all-encompassing. Every dollar we spend–every organization or company we support–shapes tomorrow. If we want businesses in our community to pay their employees fairly, we can make it happen? How? Shop at the businesses that do. Don’t shop at the businesses that don’t. Easy, huh? If we want our culinary tradition to include more vegetarian options, we can make it happen. How? By ordering vegetarian options when available. By requesting vegetarian options where not available. By experimenting– making tasty new vegetarian foods ourselves. Sharing with friends. Etc.

Every decision we make, every item we buy, every item we don’t, every restaurant we patronize, every restaurant we don’t, every vehicle we drive, etc– it’s all significant. Our choices shape our culture. It’s a privilege and a burden. It’s a privilege in that tomorrow can be exactly what we want it to be, but a burden because we’re forced to evaluate each of our decisions in terms of our roles and shapers of culture.

There’s a notion that the world is firmly set in its course; nothing will deter us from our manifest destiny. We have visions of a sterile, technologically robust future and we feel that, come what may, we’re going to make it there. We’re sure about it. We count on a better life for our children, for our grandchildren. A higher standard of living. Better health care. More mobility. Less disease, crime, poverty. That is the direction of human history.

But I begin to disagree. Strongly. I look at the global systems around us and I see a very tenuous path for the future, a very delicate balance. The balance, however, is tipping. We’re tipping away from abundance to scarcity. From growth to decline. I have a premonition of the future, and it’s not a bright or cheery vision. Our current patterns of living are not sustainable. We underestimate our human impact on the earth, and we underestimate the ability of the earth to retaliate. And I’m not talking hundreds of years. I believe this shift of balance may begin to manifest itself before the end of my parents lifetime. It’s not a problem for future generations– it’s a problem for our generation. And, like a Rocky Mountain thunderstorm, it’s looming in the distance. If we’re willing to look, we may see it coming.

Our petroleum reserves are finite, and we know they’re running out. We may have 20 years worth left, if new discoveries offset the billowing demand in south-east Asia (China specifically). The importance of fuel cannot be overstated. We’re overconsuming petroleum reserves, but that’s certainly not all. The earth can only sustain a certain number of human beings– the figure I’ve heard most often is 10 billion– and the world’s current population growth rate could place us at that mark in 20 years.

Unstable governments. Nuclear weapons. Paucity of resources.

What I hold a premonition of, then, is that we are at the pinnacle of our society. That these years, and perhaps the next ten years to come, will mark the high-point of humanity. Never again will there be an age of such exceptional consumption (or such exceptional production). Never again will so many people so mobile, circling the earth for pleasure. There will come a point, probably a lot sooner than any of us expect, when things begin to run out.

Disruption of supply and demand will disrupt and undermine our economies. Governments, being primarily economic units, will initiate wars over resources, fighting not just over oil, but arable land and clean water. Meanwhile, the world will be ravaged by increasingly violent natural disasters– hurricanes, tsunamis, rising tides (flooding much of America’s eastern seaboard), as we’re increasingly less able to respond.

Climate change. And yes, it IS changing.

It becomes, then, imperative to capture the moment– to capture what it’s like to live in the year 2006, at the high-point of human mobility, at the high point of human consumption. In the age of 72″ HD televisions and behemoth Hummer H2s. It becomes essential to capture the essence of some fragment of humanity. To capture a sunset, and then capture how many people see the sunset, how many don’t, how many appreciate it, how many reach for the $1,450 Canon digital cameras. It’s important to capture the human mentality, at this turning of the tide– while we’re still hopeful, forward looking. We must be captured, documented, put in place for posterity– but more so for ourselves. We must understand ourselves. I don’t know why but understanding ourselves must be a step towards understanding the world around us.

Disease epidemics.

Sustainability isn’t necessarily a bright prospect. But the alternative is worse.

I have this strong, mounting premonition of the future. Of our future. Of the last years of my parents and the first years of our progeny. And it’s grim. It’s a future of decline, or stabilization. But I don’t think many share this premonition, this vision of the future. Maybe it won’t come about. Maybe a source of Hydrogen fuel will be discovered, and this age of mobility will be entirely eclipsed by the age to come, just as the age previous by this. Science, surely, has yet to be defeated. But I’m not counting on the discovery of an alternative source of fuel that will change the course of human history.

Global food shortages.

And so begins the project: what does it look like? What does it feel like? What are people thinking? What am I thinking? What are our (collective) hopes and dreams? What are our secret, buried fears? Oh, capture it. Bring it together. Put it on film, in a book, on a canvas.

Forgive me for seeming shallow. Forgive me for being a doomsayer. I don’t mean to be. But I feel an urgency in capturing the moment. An urgency to capturing the moment.

This is hasty and shallow and disorganized and blather. But the goal is something profound, something sublime, carefully crafted, great depth. Something subtle, that you smile and laugh your way through, and keeps you up that night, unable to sleep, disturbed. Someing that eats the soul. Awakens consciousness.

Oh, yes. Overly ambitious. But juxtaposed against an insurmountable problem.

Sabres: 3
Senators: 2

Over-time victory of the Sabres.

I personally predict the Sabres are going to make it to the finals, but not take home the cup. We’ll see.

For both Darwin and Freud the idea of death saves us from the idea that there is anything to be saved from. If we are not fallen creatures, but simply creatures, we cannot be redeemed. If we are not deluded by the wish for immortality, transience doesn’t diminish us. Indeed, the traditional theological conviction that we needed to be saved — the secular equivalent being the belief that we could and should perfect ourselves, that we are in need of radical improvement — assumed that we are insufficient for this world; that without a God that could keep is in mind — a God who, in however inscrutable a sense, knew what was going on — we were bereft and impoverished (and compared with an omniscient deity, or magically potent deities, we were indeed lacking). If morality was a flaw, or a punishment, we were always verging on humiliation. Tyrannical fantasies of our own perfectibility still lurk in even our simplest ideals, Darwin and Freud intimate, so that any ideal can become another excuse for punishment. Lives dominated by impossible ideals — complete honesty, absolute knowledge, perfect happiness, eternal love — are lives experienced as continuous failures.

…

When transience is not merely an occasion for mourning, we will have inherited the earth.

(Adam Phillips, Darwin’s Worms)