Simple mathematics
I've been struggling for days to figure out what to say next. I'm not usually much of a doomsayer -- funny thing about that last post is that it didn't even seem like gloomy pessimism so much as a frank acknowledgment of the obvious. It is obvious in a way -- we're all going to die of course. Less obvious is whether we truly are in the old age of humanity, but I have to say that it surely feels to me as though we may be.
I'm feeling so inured to the increasing pace of the bad news assault that when I read this article in the Oil Drum, I was actually slightly elated that a serious doomsayer thought that in 100 years there might still be a billion of us left. Of course, it's a simple model that makes many assumptions (and if you take the time to read it make sure to wade through at least some of the comments to get the full perspective on this). He has no idea, really.
A wise friend of mine put it best when she said that she doesn't really know what is going to happen (neither do I, and I know that I don't, even for all of my passive-aggressive bipolar vacillation) and can only be certain that she'll be here for as long as she can, doing whatever she can to protect those she loves.
And that's roughly the conclusion I was coming to as well. We don't know how much time we've got, either individually or as a species. We never have. But the elderly folk I've known and admired the most, as they've looked into the twilight at the end of their lives, have been memorable for a few things. They don't seem afraid. They don't sway from a conviction that every action they take, right to the very last one, makes a difference, and that the choice is always there as to what kind of difference it makes. Whether as doomed individuals or as members of a species that is ultimately doomed, we're always going to be better off paying proper homage to our own finitude, rather than pretending, with absurd hubris, that there's any chance we will go on forever. In other words, better to try to be clear-eyed and calm than get ourselves into a fuss of panic ranting over things that can't be fixed. Otherwise we run the risk of not noticing what can be accomplished.
I'm winking out some time in the next 40 years at most. That much is a personal certainty. That still seems like a pretty good stretch to make some difference if I take my time, keep trying to think clearly and realistically about how best to spend those years, try not to be too afraid, pick my battles (and they'll be tiny ones I suspect), and do my best.
It all seems pretty simple at the moment. Daunting, perhaps, but simple.
I'm feeling so inured to the increasing pace of the bad news assault that when I read this article in the Oil Drum, I was actually slightly elated that a serious doomsayer thought that in 100 years there might still be a billion of us left. Of course, it's a simple model that makes many assumptions (and if you take the time to read it make sure to wade through at least some of the comments to get the full perspective on this). He has no idea, really.
A wise friend of mine put it best when she said that she doesn't really know what is going to happen (neither do I, and I know that I don't, even for all of my passive-aggressive bipolar vacillation) and can only be certain that she'll be here for as long as she can, doing whatever she can to protect those she loves.
And that's roughly the conclusion I was coming to as well. We don't know how much time we've got, either individually or as a species. We never have. But the elderly folk I've known and admired the most, as they've looked into the twilight at the end of their lives, have been memorable for a few things. They don't seem afraid. They don't sway from a conviction that every action they take, right to the very last one, makes a difference, and that the choice is always there as to what kind of difference it makes. Whether as doomed individuals or as members of a species that is ultimately doomed, we're always going to be better off paying proper homage to our own finitude, rather than pretending, with absurd hubris, that there's any chance we will go on forever. In other words, better to try to be clear-eyed and calm than get ourselves into a fuss of panic ranting over things that can't be fixed. Otherwise we run the risk of not noticing what can be accomplished.
I'm winking out some time in the next 40 years at most. That much is a personal certainty. That still seems like a pretty good stretch to make some difference if I take my time, keep trying to think clearly and realistically about how best to spend those years, try not to be too afraid, pick my battles (and they'll be tiny ones I suspect), and do my best.
It all seems pretty simple at the moment. Daunting, perhaps, but simple.
posted by Colin at 8:53 PM
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