Announcing our doom and damnation? That’s as American as apple pie. We tell pollsters we believe in ghosts, angels and the Second Coming. The current style of apocalypses dates from the days of Jesus’ death 2000 years ago. The rapture was supposed to be hours away.
There were hundreds of millions of Kindles and Nooks frozen in death, stuck on one page – “Why America Slept.” You can say one thing about us, we were a species that scribbled, texted, hologrammed and burst a blood vessel of pixels in the final years. Every last atrocity was broadcast virally. By 2015, every consumer could make a major feature film with a gadget fitted to the hand.
The one question I return to: From the center of our vast population can we human beings reach out to the thing that created us? The industrial inebriation of traffic-life, computer-life, and military-life - is so complete. We as the top dog species isolate ourselves from the Earth – just as the Earth makes the effort to talk to us. And oh – it’s trying to get our attention!
We have a schizophrenic feeling about water. We grow up with the loving mysterious frame of the blue lakes, of fluffy clouds and sunsets over oceans. Our youthful baptism grows into swimming and then into honeymooning on a white sand beach. We love water near us – how it seems to hold life in it.
Climb a mountain and stand way up there alone in the sky and ready your ultimate question about life. Naturally you want to unfurl your wings like an eagle and make the unknown horizon give up its answers.
"Banish the word 'struggle' from your attitude and your vocabulary. All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.
We are the ones we have been waiting for." — Hopi elders
