Thursday, June 24, 2010

Lessons from Loon Loop: Green Movement as Religion

Lessons from Loon Loop: Green Movement as Religion

I wrote this originally in April of 2009. I'm certain I had not read Boris Johnson's essay in the Sunday Times from London, but it seems as if we were both thinking the same thing. Read his article and see if you agree.

Climate Change as a religion?


the fear of climate change is like a religion in this vital sense, that it is veiled in mystery

We’ve lost our fear of hellfire, but put climate change in its place

I used to have a mother-in-law called Gaia, so any book called The Revenge of Gaia is likely to cause a flutter of panic in my breast; and by the time I had finished the new best-seller by green prophet James Lovelock, I am afraid I was in a state of brow-drenched hysteria.

The good news is that the Gaia in question is not my ex-mother-in-law. The bad news is that she represents a chthonic deity even more capable of vengeance upon errant mankind. Gaia is the Earth herself; she is Mother Nature; she taps her foot in ever-growing impatience at the antics of our species; and, according to Professor Lovelock, she is about to exact the most terrifying punishment for our excesses. She is about to get carboniferous on our ass.

Lovelock has been studying climate change since the 1960s. He has been described by the New Scientist as one of the great thinkers of our age, and he was made a Companion of Honour in 2003. He knows his onions, and, indeed, how much moisture they require.

He has been around the world looking at the rising tidelines, sniffing the smoke from the burning rainforest, listening to the roar of the ice-melt from the glaciers, and he has come to the conclusion that the climate change lobby has got it hopelessly wrong.

We delude ourselves, says Lovelock, if we think that the global temperature is going to rise in small increments over the next century. We are like the blindfolded crew of a boat approaching Niagara Falls, and there will come a moment when the temperature will rise with all the equivalent vertical horror. Some time in the next hundred years, he says, it is suddenly going to get hotter and hotter and hotter.

“Billions will die,” says Lovelock, who tells us that he is not normally a gloomy type. Human civilisation will be reduced to a “broken rabble ruled by brutal warlords”, and the plague-ridden remainder of the species will flee the cracked and broken earth to the Arctic, the last temperate spot, where a few breeding couples will survive.

It is going to be a “hell of a climate”, he says, with Europe 8C warmer than it is today; and the real killer, says Lovelock, is that there is not a damn thing we can do about it. We are already pumping out so much carbon dioxide, with no prospect of abatement from the growing economies of China and India, that our fate is sealed.

We in Britain produce only two per cent of the world’s carbon output and, even if we closed down British industry overnight; even if we abolished the winter fuel allowance and ordered the pensioners to wear more sweaters; even if we forested the entire country with windfarms, it would make not a bean of difference.

It would be like trying to cool a volcano with an ice cube. The Kyoto protocol; the climate change levy; the windows and doors regulation – they are all as pointless as telling a patient with terminal lung cancer that he should give up smoking.

And when the Great Heat has destroyed our industry, and wrecked civilisation, it will get worse, says Lovelock. Because then we will lose the aerosol of dust and smog that has kept out some of the sun’s rays; and it will get hotter still.

There is nothing for it, he says, but to forget the piffling Kyoto-led regulation, and build nuclear power plants, so as not to be dependent on Russian gas, and send bodies of fit young men and women to East Anglia, there to build levees against the coming inundations. An international solution is now beyond our reach, he says, and we must look to Britain first.

Phew-ee. Is Lovelock right? I haven’t the faintest; but as I listen to his Mad Max-style vision of the coming century, I find my mind bubbling with blasphemous thoughts.

Wasn’t it pretty hot in the 10th century? Didn’t the Romans have vineyards in Northumberland? And is it really so exceptionally hot in modern Europe? According to yesterday’s paper, Lisbon has just had its first heavy snowfall for 52 years. What’s that about?

I feel I cannot possibly disagree with Lovelock, or with the overwhelming body of scientists who attest to the reality of climate change. I am sure that they are, in some sense, right; and it feels instinctively true that we are a nasty, over-polluting species; and there is something horrifying, when you look at those pictures of the world at night, to see the phosphorescent sprawl of humanity.

But the more one listens to sacerdotal figures such as Lovelock, and the more one studies public reactions to his prophecies, the clearer it is that we are not just dealing with science (though science is a large part of it); this is partly a religious phenomenon.

Humanity has largely lost its fear of hellfire, and yet we still hunger for a structure, a point, an eschatology, a moral counterbalance to our growing prosperity. All that is brilliantly supplied by climate change. Like all the best religions, fear of climate change satisfies our need for guilt, and self-disgust, and that eternal human sense that technological progress must be punished by the gods.

And the fear of climate change is like a religion in this vital sense, that it is veiled in mystery, and you can never tell whether your acts of propitiation or atonement have been in any way successful. One sect says we must build more windfarms, and these high priests will be displeased with what Lovelock has to say. Another priestly caste curses the Government’s obsession with nuclear power – a programme Lovelock has had the courage to support.

Some scientific hierophants now tell us that trees – trees, the good guys – are the source of too much methane, and are contributing to global warming. Huh? We in the poor muddled laity scratch our heads and pray. Who is right? Who is wrong?

If Lovelock is only half-right, then we must have an immediate programme to pastoralise the global economy and reduce emissions. The paradox is that, if he is completely right, there is not a lot we can do, and we might as well enjoy our beautiful planet while we can.

Or is he completely wrong? To say that would be an offence not just against science, but against a growing world religion.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Range hood as a metaphor for life

Woke up in a cleaning mood today. Not having that happen very often motivates me to "use it or lose it." Tackled the stove first. Ran the burners and drip pans through the dishwasher,  wiped down the top and back. Turned my attention to the underside of the range hood. EE-yuck.
 Now I do not claim to be a good cook. I am proud, however, to call myself a messy one. I figure that what I lack in creativity and taste can be compensated for with volume and distance traveled. When I cook something, you  KNOW I've been there.

So it came as no surprise to find enough raw materials under the range hood to reconstitute into a passable campfire meal.  I sprayed everything down, and left it to soak.  There is something in cleaning supplies that triggers introspection in me.

I thought about why it is that I don't clean under there more often. I realized that it really is a metaphor for life. The places I am busiest, messiest, are those places I don't often contemplate. Most of living goes on in my mind and soul, but the externals, the burners and dials, get the most attention.  The filter for yuck, the fan filter, in this case, catches all the crud and keeps it there.

Do I spend more time on my body, my outward activities and belongings than I do to the filters in my mind and soul? Do they need cleaning?

Hmm.. Something to ponder.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Everyone's shedding!

My friends have been talking about "shedding" ie. decluttering and simplifying their lives. That's all well and good, but why does my family think they need to join in. It's not the same thing, anyway. Their "shedding" involves their stuff, draped over chairs, spread across the carpet, dragged in from the yard and left on the kitchen counter.

I vacuum; ds comes in and kicks off his shoes in the hallway, spreading sand across the newly vacuumed and mopped floor. Hubby hangs hats, coats and shirts on any available post, usually the kitchen chairs or the newel on the stairs. An attractive look, really. The dishes get done, and as soon as the sink is empty someone dumps more dirty dishes in. Do they not see the empty sink and think'Hmm, maybe I can just put this in the dishwasher?' No! Of course not!

I wash clothes; leave the clean ones folded nicely in the basket, ready to be put away. do they get put away?No, just more dirty clothes get piled on.

Then the cats. Puffs of hair everywhere.

I give up. Does nobody notice what I do around here?

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Global warming...

We could use some. It's been the coldest, snowiest winter we've had since I was a kid. Out heat bill is astronomical. I can't see out one window due to drifted snow.

Greenhouse gas? I'll give you greenhouse gas. I had to make a pot of chili with red pepper just to warm us up. There's your greenhouse gas! Feeling better already?

Thursday, January 8, 2009

If I only had a brain...

Or at least a different one. To get you up to speed...In Feb last year I had a stroke. In July of last year I had a very bad seizure, ambulance to one hospital and helicopter to another. Was doing okay until November of this year when I had another seizure. Back to hospital, where they immediately whisked me off to another hospital capable of dealing with me.Now, I'm on seizure medications, have had some "breakthrough" seizures, and have had to double my medication dosage. Still can't drive. I'm being hauled everywhere by my patient and loving husband. My son now has more incentive than ever to get his license, and is slogging through the driver's ed curriculum. I'd be thrilled to have him driving,both for my sake and for his!In spite of all this, I'm happy! Either I don't get it, I'm more brain-damaged than I thought, or I'm in total denial. Don't care though. There's an incredible freedom that comes from having stared down the throat of death and disability, and been barfed back up on the shore. Gross visuals, I know, but I do feel a bit Jonah-ish. I didn't go into this kicking and screaming, but I am certainly glad to be in the beach again anyway. Enough for now. The hand dexterity required for typing takes a lot out of me, and besides, it's time for supper.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

The Sacred and the Mundane

The Sacred and the Mundane

Why do we assign value to the parts of our lives, creating lists of Really Good Things, below that, Stuff That Just Happens, and way at the bottom, Junk We Get Through? There is a mindset that says that we work hard to get to the Good Things, and put up with all the other in order to get there. What happened to the value of everyday things?

For instance, as a home school mom, I find I have to “get through” those tedious days of memorizing the multiplication tables, or the screaming, hair-pulling days of complete rebellion (mine and my son's!). I stand it because there are those moments of crystal clarity, the times where you hold your breath and absorb the moment – that moment when he “gets it” or sees life in a new way, or melts your heart with thankfulness.

But what about the ordinary? Are there any rewards in Heaven for those of us that don't climb mountains or write novels or sing arias? Do we get credit for just doing our calling? Is the ordinary sacred?

I know we do, and it is. Think about the Levites, that special group of Hebrews who were set apart to keep the Tabernacle in the wilderness. They had different rules, were supported by the rest of the tribe – they were special! But think more about it. Besides caring for all the gold stuff, and doing the daily offerings, they had to maintain the Tabernacle. Let's really think about this. It was a goat hair tent, set up in the middle of the desert, where lots of people walked in and out and lots of butchering went on. They had to be janitors! In a really dirty environment! Do you think this was Junk To Get Through in order to be important Levities? No! This was as sacred to God as the rest of it.

So where do we go with this? I believe to to live life abundantly, we must live it fully. We should be as present in the mundane as in the amazing. Washing dishes can be a sacrament. Tucking in your children at night with love is an act of worship to their Creator. Simply being aware of what we are doing and why we are doing it can be as satisfying as the highest praise from someone else. Take time today to find the sacred. It's all around you, filling your life, but you must look for it.

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Red visits friends

Summer Iris

Summer Iris