Here are the words of two different artists, Alexander Pope and David Byrne. They portray mixed feelings about the potential for a more natural future after the collapse of the fossil fuel industry. Where along the spectrum do you fall?
Ode on Solitude
by Alexander Pope
Happy the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire, Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter fire. Blest, who can unconcernedly find Hours, days, and years slide soft away, In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day, Sound sleep by night; study and ease, Together mixed; sweet recreation; And innocence, which most does please, With meditation. Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; Thus unlamented let me die; Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie.
Nothing but Flowers
by David Byrne of Talking Heads
So beautiful and strong
Birds in the trees
Are smiling upon them
Where? Where have they gone?
Now, it's nothing but flowers
There was a shopping mall
Now it's all covered with flowers
You've got it, you've got it
You've got it, you've got it
That I was a billboard
Standing tall
By the side of the road
This used to be real estate, now it's only fields and trees
Where? Where is the town?
The highways and cars
Were sacrificed for agriculture
You've got it, you've got it
You've got it, you've got it
We used to microwave
You've got it, you've got it
You've got it, you've got it
I can't get used to this lifestyle
Great offerings, commenters -- thank you. Jeanne, I have that book of Berry's and continue to find things I like in it. Djf, wonderful quotation; I'd read some of Lin Yutang's Christian writing but not his translation of Lao Tzu. Taoism has a lot of wisdom in it.
I liken collapse to water because it is natural. We fight collapse when we should embrace it. The natural succession of things is the basis of life as such one can only live by change. If that change is destructive it is still change. It will be those who behave like water that will adapt to what is ahead. Realgreenadaptation.blog
The best of men is like water;
Water benefits all things
And does not compete with them.
It dwells in (the lowly) places that all disdain –
Wherein it comes near to the Tao.
In his dwelling, (the Sage) loves the (lowly) earth;
In his heart, he loves what is profound;
In his relations with others, he loves kindness;
In…
I've always liked Pope's Ode to Solitude, but while such a future is still a distant possibility, and one I'd like to live in, it's hard for me to imagine it these days. Wendell Berry's imagined future about the "second coming of the trees" seems more fitting to me. I think of this poem often, especially those times I notice the flowers growing in the cracked asphalt of the street in front of my house, and the trees popping up in the corners of the yard. I see this wild untamed world of undiscovered intelligence still waiting to return in the landscape, and the human species, for the most part, having none of it, lost in a virtual high-tech construct…
This was an audacious post. I'm reminded of Huck Finn and the Friendship's Offering book he found at the widow Douglas' house. ("Full beautiful stuff and poetry. But I didn't read the poetry.") But, anyway, here's my answer:
Ton arrière-arrière-grand-père, il a défriché la terre
Ton arrière-grand-père, il a labouré la terre
Et pis ton grand-père a rentabilisé la terre
Pis ton père, il l'a vendue pour devenir fonctionnaire
Et pis toi, mon p'tit gars, tu l'sais pus c'que tu vas faire
Dans ton p'tit trois et demi bien trop cher, frette en hiver
Il te vient des envies de devenir propriétaire
Et tu rêves la nuit d'avoir ton petit lopin de terre
Ton arrière-arrière-grand-mère, elle a eu quatorze enfants