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soul of Self interest

  futuring
gary e. davis
September 11, 2020
 
 
Several days ago, waking in darkness, I thought something was wrong with my sleep: I felt refreshed, like bright mornings, but my bedroom was dimly lit, like before sunrise.

I parted curtains at my window: The sky was orange in late morning fog. (I’m
a so-called night owl, sometimes waking in late morning.) Smoke from far away fires around northern California had nearly hidden the sun, cooling the air to keep normal fog everywhere—orange.

Welcome sunrise on Mars.

The color was captured all day by news media, picked up by national venues.

Here is the news: The storylines of climate-induced chaos are not news. 80ºF in Salt Lake City Monday; freezing with snow Tuesday.

Accelerating number of hurricanes each year; accelerating volume of wildfires creating their own weather that wildly storms their flames into towns before many residents can flee. Today, one’s pretty retirement home; tomorrow, nothing but twisted metal and ashes and stunned grieving.

Famines drive refugees into Europe.

Here is more news: We are jaded, angered, and tired.

“Paleontology makes me cry, daddy.”

In the actual night, owls really do sometimes seem to be calling “Who…Who.”
In the actual night, the black sky silently mirrors my wondering about the wager by Absolute Others Out There who sent a six-mile wide astreroid into Earth 60+ million years ago because there’s no point to monsters. The little mammals deserved a break, unlike so many other planets that succumbed to raw nature before They could intervene.

“Rare Earth,” they say.

No gods will save you from burning to death in your bed.

If all the world at once now turned It’s attention to reversing the story of hothouse Earth (including cycling trillions of private dollars into advancing global public goods), future generations at best would benefit, not Us.

But an all-species—a specieal—commitment to “paying forward” (like Our ancestors did in their pointillism of localities) is conceivable only for streaming fiction at a screen near you.

A philosopher (e.g., Heidegger) may plead for appreciation that Time originates from futurity, for action that gains fulfillment, for lives that gain remembrance because one made a lasting Point of belonging together in the Same promise of being that the children to come may love as if nature has favored their joys.

A philologist may herald literary sensibility as if to vainly validate devotion to making good* government sacred grounding: “From protean aspiration to a sense of Anthropocenic virtue, The Project has been—is—centripetally prospecting a comprehensiveness of discourse that idealizes the good* of life as ecologically flourishing humanity.”

“Yeah, bring it on, deary.”

The arguably Anthropic universe doesn’t know anything, like: what It unwittingly spawned.

Intelligent design originates here. To whom in the cosmos it may concern:
We
flourish because we love to.



   

 

 

 
  Be fair. © 2020, gary e. davis