About forty years ago I was in south China, a region called Xishuangbanna, among the Dai people, just travelling. One night I was staying at an open sided, traditionally-constructed thatch-roofed house which received travelers for extra money, being fed dinner around a fire, listening to voices, looking into faces, relishing a certain intimacy created by the circumstance of a common fire and the surrounding darkness. Suddenly a bulb flickered on and the people got up and went to another part of their home, sat on a couch and turned on a TV, sitting mute before a screen. Rockets, pretty girls in sequins, hyper colorized, over the top garish. I wanted to weep.
When that power outage occurs, it will be brutal, meaning the death of billions. I will certainly be one of them, dependent on medications to keep me functioning. In two years of writing on the climate crisis, I have touched on overconsumption and overpopulation, but not the topic of artificially extended life spans, the third leg of the stool. In the pre technological world, I would have been dead from a brain tumor in 2019. Writing and warning people of what is coming is my justification for still being here, as I witness our species destroying all it depends on and taking everything innocent in its path. At this point, I simply feel disgust for the entire system. I wonder what those Black Friday sales numbers look like? Affluent societies have no clue of the havoc we have wreaked, or what living with meaning looks like as brainwashed slaves to the machine.
The future does not look bright for the current population, propped up as we are by fossil fuel fertilizers and transport and industrial medicine. The question is, will we continue to fight the inevitable crash, or accept that change is coming and work to mitigate the harms as best we can?
First, Geoffrey, I'm so sorry of what you must endure. I too have had trouble getting people to care about what we're doing to destroy the planet - there's a movie, by WaterBear I think tha simply asks "what have we done?" The frustration of posting a film or article such as Max's here and people respond with how much they like the newest beer they found, discourages me no end. I believe a lot of our artificially extended life spans has increased, or kept high, our population. I have no answer to that issue, but perhaps "natural" medicine will provide at least part of an answer o sustain you. And Max, don't forget when power outages occur many of us have no cyber connection (I have no phone connection cyber-speaking) so my silence really is total and while most would see that as a danger, I welcome that danger to teach us how to become more self-sufficient.
Thank you. My health issues are disappointing, but forced changes that led to me writing here as well about climate change. I lost some things I loved that I can't do anymore, so now it's my job to try to protect them. People in denial about our situation or refusing to do anything is extremely alienating. Being around those people drains me, but it's not their fault, the matrix is powerful. We can have long lives, but we can't have long lives, overconsumption and overpopulation. It's unsustainable. There is a rational plan spoken of in the climate science community, but it is a behavioral and political nonstarter, most tragically. https://geoffreydeihl.substack.com/p/degrowth-the-vision-we-must-demand
I hear you an that, Geoffrey. My grandmother died of cancer a year ago, and she'd known she had it for years, but she knew that going to Standing Rock to help as a water protector was more important. And she started these homeless shelters. She knew how much there was that needed doing, and she did it as long as she could And, at least the little puclicity she stirred up from Standing Rock got some people at least curious. Maybe a few real articles about what was going on with our water. I see the word demand in the URL of your link, and I'll read it now. She was pretty ornery, and proud of it too!
Your grandmother was wise in knowing there are things bigger than the individual, and that a significant life is about living meaningfully, not for how long. Are you Sioux, Betsy? My introduction to Max began with an article I wrote about Thacker Pass. Humankind has always been far from perfect, but this technological life forced on those who still lived simply has been an ongoing crime for hundreds of years by a variety of empires. To call it an improvement is a stretch at best. Any future at all starts with adopting as much of the simplicity of indigenous life as possible. I painted the contrasts here of Plymouth settlers and the Wampanoag people. https://geoffreydeihl.substack.com/p/imagine-an-earth-first-policy
We have periodic outages here on the edge of the desert. The big dairies have generators that kick in. I can hear the neighbors running their generator a mile away. Anymore the freeway always makes noise. On a still night I'm surrounded by mechanical noises from farms. Strange humms, grumbles, crashes, just constant even when the grid is down. No longer get to see the Milky Way, due to the CAFOS yard lights.
I once heard crickets, frogs, the screech of the barn owls, or the census of coyotes deciding the next election. Every year civilization grows and nature is quieted. People tell me I need hearing aids. What I need is something worth hearing.
Well written, Dennis. The sound of countless generators kicking on after a few hours of power outage, and the resulting air quality decline, is a tough pill to swallow. People will do what they feel they must do to power essential medical machines and basic heating, but it underscores how reliant we've become on a plug.
Nov 28, 2023·edited Nov 28, 2023Liked by Max Wilbert
Thanks again, Max. I've been thinking about life without electricity a lot recently, too, even though power outages are not that frequent here. For about half the year of 1970 I lived without electric power on a commune in the North Cascade mountains (very close to the national park that bears that name). My memories of that place are some of the most vivid and instructional of any place that I have lived over my 72 years. I was 18 then and had grown up in a large city, with all the "amenities" and the noise. The mountain commune was my first time living close to nature and sleeping under the stars (during the summer months). For the first half of the 1970s I also lived in other places that had electricity, but we didn't use it that much. Then in 1975, somebody gave my wife and I a small black and white tv and things went downhill from there.
We are now about to get a new hand-operated water pump installed on our well, "in case the power goes out." I actually look forward to using it so much that I don't care that much about the grid becoming intermittent or even permanently shut down. We have a campfire and a woodstove and we just built an adobe, wood-fired oven. Living by a highway and a train track in the northern Rockies, I also yearn for the day when all of the fossil fuel vehicles are out of fuel, which would also shut down mining and the production of electric vehicles as well. Good riddance!
Good riddance indeed, George. It's a conundrum that the end of the system we're all dependent on, to a greater or (in case of people like you, lesser) extent, will mean short term privation and possibly far worse, and yet seems to be the only pathway to a livable future...
It will truly be painful and there will be much loss of life (humans and non-human). But, which would be better: continuing as a species that, for the most part, has no clue what it means to be a truly natural human in connection to all regenerative life, or having the opportunity, in small remnant communities to start over, with deep lessons learned, reconnecting to what then remains of the real, natural world and begin to fulfill our positive potential? I suppose there is some kind of parallel here to the pain and joy of childbirth. Stay well.
I dream of this too. I recently read a book series called “Dies the Fire”. While what happens after the power dies for good is a bit fantastical, I wish for it to never come back on.
I read those years ago, Brian! It's fun that they take place in this region. Complete fantasy, of course, but an interesting thought experiment nonetheless.
Wonderful column, Max. I'm a fellow total silence lover too. When there was a threat of a total outage, we'd pull a couple of gallons of water in case we needed to flush the toilet (we were on a septic system) Refrigerators would go silent and the dark was like a light as to how things could be. We cooked a lot of things beforehand, so they could be warmed up on the top o the wood stove, which also gave us a gentle quiet heat. Here in the homeless shelter, most days someone has a TV or radio turned on and that's what greets me in the morning. But without that available , there's a lovely QUIET, true silence that comforts me. The only background noise is the the purring of our 7 cats who seem to love it too (and generate their own heat.). I swear I'm going to throttle that wobbly soprano female singer on the Christmas CD, when it's on. We could really hear the snowflakes falling, one by one, even in a blizzard and there was no rush to clear them out . By the way, don't forget to look for the Beaver Moon tonight.
About forty years ago I was in south China, a region called Xishuangbanna, among the Dai people, just travelling. One night I was staying at an open sided, traditionally-constructed thatch-roofed house which received travelers for extra money, being fed dinner around a fire, listening to voices, looking into faces, relishing a certain intimacy created by the circumstance of a common fire and the surrounding darkness. Suddenly a bulb flickered on and the people got up and went to another part of their home, sat on a couch and turned on a TV, sitting mute before a screen. Rockets, pretty girls in sequins, hyper colorized, over the top garish. I wanted to weep.
Moments like that are profoundly dispiriting.
I relate to that so much - very often the TVs here are mute because they are so old.
When that power outage occurs, it will be brutal, meaning the death of billions. I will certainly be one of them, dependent on medications to keep me functioning. In two years of writing on the climate crisis, I have touched on overconsumption and overpopulation, but not the topic of artificially extended life spans, the third leg of the stool. In the pre technological world, I would have been dead from a brain tumor in 2019. Writing and warning people of what is coming is my justification for still being here, as I witness our species destroying all it depends on and taking everything innocent in its path. At this point, I simply feel disgust for the entire system. I wonder what those Black Friday sales numbers look like? Affluent societies have no clue of the havoc we have wreaked, or what living with meaning looks like as brainwashed slaves to the machine.
The future does not look bright for the current population, propped up as we are by fossil fuel fertilizers and transport and industrial medicine. The question is, will we continue to fight the inevitable crash, or accept that change is coming and work to mitigate the harms as best we can?
First, Geoffrey, I'm so sorry of what you must endure. I too have had trouble getting people to care about what we're doing to destroy the planet - there's a movie, by WaterBear I think tha simply asks "what have we done?" The frustration of posting a film or article such as Max's here and people respond with how much they like the newest beer they found, discourages me no end. I believe a lot of our artificially extended life spans has increased, or kept high, our population. I have no answer to that issue, but perhaps "natural" medicine will provide at least part of an answer o sustain you. And Max, don't forget when power outages occur many of us have no cyber connection (I have no phone connection cyber-speaking) so my silence really is total and while most would see that as a danger, I welcome that danger to teach us how to become more self-sufficient.
Thank you. My health issues are disappointing, but forced changes that led to me writing here as well about climate change. I lost some things I loved that I can't do anymore, so now it's my job to try to protect them. People in denial about our situation or refusing to do anything is extremely alienating. Being around those people drains me, but it's not their fault, the matrix is powerful. We can have long lives, but we can't have long lives, overconsumption and overpopulation. It's unsustainable. There is a rational plan spoken of in the climate science community, but it is a behavioral and political nonstarter, most tragically. https://geoffreydeihl.substack.com/p/degrowth-the-vision-we-must-demand
I hear you an that, Geoffrey. My grandmother died of cancer a year ago, and she'd known she had it for years, but she knew that going to Standing Rock to help as a water protector was more important. And she started these homeless shelters. She knew how much there was that needed doing, and she did it as long as she could And, at least the little puclicity she stirred up from Standing Rock got some people at least curious. Maybe a few real articles about what was going on with our water. I see the word demand in the URL of your link, and I'll read it now. She was pretty ornery, and proud of it too!
Your grandmother was wise in knowing there are things bigger than the individual, and that a significant life is about living meaningfully, not for how long. Are you Sioux, Betsy? My introduction to Max began with an article I wrote about Thacker Pass. Humankind has always been far from perfect, but this technological life forced on those who still lived simply has been an ongoing crime for hundreds of years by a variety of empires. To call it an improvement is a stretch at best. Any future at all starts with adopting as much of the simplicity of indigenous life as possible. I painted the contrasts here of Plymouth settlers and the Wampanoag people. https://geoffreydeihl.substack.com/p/imagine-an-earth-first-policy
I'm Lakota, Geoffrey
We have periodic outages here on the edge of the desert. The big dairies have generators that kick in. I can hear the neighbors running their generator a mile away. Anymore the freeway always makes noise. On a still night I'm surrounded by mechanical noises from farms. Strange humms, grumbles, crashes, just constant even when the grid is down. No longer get to see the Milky Way, due to the CAFOS yard lights.
I once heard crickets, frogs, the screech of the barn owls, or the census of coyotes deciding the next election. Every year civilization grows and nature is quieted. People tell me I need hearing aids. What I need is something worth hearing.
Well written, Dennis. The sound of countless generators kicking on after a few hours of power outage, and the resulting air quality decline, is a tough pill to swallow. People will do what they feel they must do to power essential medical machines and basic heating, but it underscores how reliant we've become on a plug.
Thanks again, Max. I've been thinking about life without electricity a lot recently, too, even though power outages are not that frequent here. For about half the year of 1970 I lived without electric power on a commune in the North Cascade mountains (very close to the national park that bears that name). My memories of that place are some of the most vivid and instructional of any place that I have lived over my 72 years. I was 18 then and had grown up in a large city, with all the "amenities" and the noise. The mountain commune was my first time living close to nature and sleeping under the stars (during the summer months). For the first half of the 1970s I also lived in other places that had electricity, but we didn't use it that much. Then in 1975, somebody gave my wife and I a small black and white tv and things went downhill from there.
We are now about to get a new hand-operated water pump installed on our well, "in case the power goes out." I actually look forward to using it so much that I don't care that much about the grid becoming intermittent or even permanently shut down. We have a campfire and a woodstove and we just built an adobe, wood-fired oven. Living by a highway and a train track in the northern Rockies, I also yearn for the day when all of the fossil fuel vehicles are out of fuel, which would also shut down mining and the production of electric vehicles as well. Good riddance!
Good riddance indeed, George. It's a conundrum that the end of the system we're all dependent on, to a greater or (in case of people like you, lesser) extent, will mean short term privation and possibly far worse, and yet seems to be the only pathway to a livable future...
It will truly be painful and there will be much loss of life (humans and non-human). But, which would be better: continuing as a species that, for the most part, has no clue what it means to be a truly natural human in connection to all regenerative life, or having the opportunity, in small remnant communities to start over, with deep lessons learned, reconnecting to what then remains of the real, natural world and begin to fulfill our positive potential? I suppose there is some kind of parallel here to the pain and joy of childbirth. Stay well.
I dream of this too. I recently read a book series called “Dies the Fire”. While what happens after the power dies for good is a bit fantastical, I wish for it to never come back on.
I read those years ago, Brian! It's fun that they take place in this region. Complete fantasy, of course, but an interesting thought experiment nonetheless.
Wonderful column, Max. I'm a fellow total silence lover too. When there was a threat of a total outage, we'd pull a couple of gallons of water in case we needed to flush the toilet (we were on a septic system) Refrigerators would go silent and the dark was like a light as to how things could be. We cooked a lot of things beforehand, so they could be warmed up on the top o the wood stove, which also gave us a gentle quiet heat. Here in the homeless shelter, most days someone has a TV or radio turned on and that's what greets me in the morning. But without that available , there's a lovely QUIET, true silence that comforts me. The only background noise is the the purring of our 7 cats who seem to love it too (and generate their own heat.). I swear I'm going to throttle that wobbly soprano female singer on the Christmas CD, when it's on. We could really hear the snowflakes falling, one by one, even in a blizzard and there was no rush to clear them out . By the way, don't forget to look for the Beaver Moon tonight.
That silence is really something special.
nothing but tears do I have ...
massively unpopular but deep truth
Might like this one: https://fairytalesfromecotopia.substack.com/p/interviews-illness-and-environmental
You might like this one: https://fairytalesfromecotopia.substack.com/p/interviews-illness-and-environmental
Might like this: https://fairytalesfromecotopia.substack.com/p/interviews-illness-and-environmental
This comment demonstrates how hackable we humans are.