The Effort of Countless Generations Brought us Here

How easy it is for modern humans to forget that we are part of a Great Wave moving through time. We are the heirs to countless generations’ worth of effort, reaching all the way back to the emergence of life on Earth. We do well to be grateful for the efforts and sacrifices that brought us to the world we live in.

It is easy to criticize when we lose sight of this context. We bemoan global warming and fossil fuel emissions and the earlier generations who did not try to prevent these problems. But we forget that we would not necessarily want the world without fossil fuels, either. They enable so many good things: consistent warmth in the winter and cooling in the summer, fertilizer for improving food security, refrigeration, and countless goods and services (including the electronics that people use to bemoan the state of the world).

It is our duty to shape the world into something we want to live in – and to shape it to support future generations. But we must also realize that same effort has been going on for an unfathomable amount of time. Even if the result is imperfect (and some results are horrifying), there is still much to be grateful for.

Quotes

  • John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us

    We enter the world as strangers who all at once become heirs to a harvest of memory, spirit, and dream that has long preceded us and will now enfold, nourish, and sustain us.

  • Quintus Curtius in Acknowledging the Debts to Our Predecessors:

    There is something petty, something small-minded and mean, in refusing to recognize those who taught us. It offends one’s sense of right. No accomplished man should ever believe that he arrived where he did solely because of his own efforts; he stood on the shoulders, and was carried along, by the aggregate labors of those who preceded him.

  • Musashi by Eiji Yoshikawa:

    “Shut up! Don’t you see you’re barely grown? There’s nothing more frightening than a half-baked do-gooder who knows nothing of the world but takes it upon himself to tell the world what’s good for it.””

The Planetary Organism

Some days I wake up and I can see the world-organism. An entire planetary system breathing and eating and thinking. I can feel the long, slow pulse of each day. 

The internet is a grand experiment, and it increasingly reminds me of this image of the world organism. As humans, we need to converse to think. The world is too complex for one mind. The internet allows us to converse across boundaries, to broaden the scale of our thinking and knowledge. We are creating a single mind on a planetary scale.

We feel like individuals, but how separate can we ever truly be?  We are inescapably connected. Now more than ever.

Apollonia Chalee

This is a poem which I received inside a bag of coffee. I cannot escape the character of Apollonia Chalee – wise beyond what her rational employers might choose to believe.


Apollonia Chalee
by John Canady

Maid

Mrs. Fisher’s superstitious. She
believes machines clean better than
human hands. She scolds me when
I miss an opportunity
to haul her caterwauling vacuum
room to room, as if my broom
might dirty her linoleum.

Mrs. Fisher still insists her new
electric washer’s quicker than
a tub and mangle, though I mopped
all day last Tuesday when it chose
to spew soap suds and dirty water
down the stairs. I tell her discontented
spirits live in these machines, but

Mrs. Fisher twists her husband’s arm
to buy more gadgets from the catalogs
Sears sends her. Mr. Fisher is
a scientist. A scientist
I think should know a little better
than to let his wife invite|
devils in metal skins into his home.

Appolonia Chalee grew up near Los Alamos and worked as a maid during WWII for families of scientists involved in the Manhattan Project.

From Critical Assembly

The Vacation

Once there was a man who filmed his vacation.
He went flying down the river in his boat
with his video camera to his eye, making
a moving picture of the moving river
upon which his sleek boat moved swiftly
toward the end of his vacation. He showed
his vacation to his camera, which pictured it,
preserving it forever: the river, the trees,
the sky, the light, the bow of his rushing boat
behind which he stood with his camera
preserving his vacation even as he was having it
so that after he had had it he would still
have it. It would be there. With a flick
of a switch, there it would be. But he
would not be in it. He would never be in it.

Wendell Berry

Source

This poem is contained in New Collected Poems.

 

New Collected Poems

By Wendell Berry

 

A Quiet Morning Alone in the City

Observations During a Quiet Sunrise,
Alamo Square, San Francisco, February 2018

I see a man standing
silently
amongst the trees
all alone for just a moment.

His neighbors are still sleeping –
all except the birds –
chattering excitedly about
this stranger in their midst

I wonder what the man thinks about
from his high perch
as he watches the city
breathe into life
below him

Perhaps he contemplates
the ancient hills that backdrop
the city skyline.

Those hills once beckoned to man,
“Come and conquer me if you can!
We were here long before you
and we shall still be here
long after you depart.”

But the hills mock no longer.
Man has leveled,
scraped,
and straightened them,
planted his boxes of ticky-tacky,
strung congested highways
and piled towering landfills
wherever he pleases.

Standing there so still,
does he feel the weight of
the conquest, the pavement?
does he see the price of progress?

I turn away,
leaving a silent prayer
that this man
has conquered
his need to conquer
here
alone
on this quiet morning.