Present-day human beings want to crumple the planet and trash it, just as we trash single-use plastics. Many of us would jump at the option of discarding this planet somewhere, perhaps in space, as we do our empty plastic water bottles, rather than embark on the hard work and discipline necessary to live sustainably. We would then reach into the cooler or fridge that is the universe and grab another similar planet, gulp it down, drain it of all its goodness, and trash it. Then grab another, trash it, and then another, and then trash. Faced with the impossibility of this, however, we suffer the Earth’s backlash.
In the same vein, instead of investing the hard work and discipline we need to nurture relationships and build community, we are increasingly quick to clear our social spaces of people to make more room for work. As a result, we retreat further into isolation, depression, and its various manifestations.
Working our way to emptiness
Persevering, believing that we are already on the greener grass and only need to water and care for it, is increasingly perceived as standing in opposition to creativity, innovation, and so-called upward mobility. Yet the more we strive for the better and the bigger, the wider and deeper our inner hollowness becomes. We set our gaze on the sky, which we claim to be our limit, but we fail to notice that the sky is almost disappearing. The ozone layer is bleaching away because of the very actions we invest in on our endless journey to reach it. We are sun-scorched and scarred, yet we trudge along, accumulating debris and dirt beneath our feet, along with plagues of natural disasters all around us. In our quest for the most likes and accolades, we are no longer human beings, but human doings and human goings.
A race towards the superficial
The more we harm the Earth, the more we lose our humanity, and the more we destroy our communities. We choose friends and analyse people’s characters by their shoes, their watches, cars, careers, homes and Zip codes. We wire our neurons with “do not disagree” sensors; family relationships and years of friendship are quickly discarded—unfollowed or blocked. Any opposing perspective is cauterised. Marching forward, we slash and burn anyone or anything that dares stand in the way of our accumulation, be it fellow mortals, animals, plants, the soil, or the sky. Then we complain of loneliness, or that our “friends” have betrayed us, or that we do not have friends because there is no one to trust. We complain of sickness for which we do not know the origin, and available treatments are not guaranteed. We’re buffeted by diseases of the mind, body, and soul.
Our souls revolt with emptiness, a perpetual sense of internal displacement. We suppress this rebellion with drugs, alcohol, porn, sex, social media—any fleeting thing that lasts for even a fraction of a second. But soon after, or in between, our trauma returns, nudging us to accept that there must be more to us as human beings than careers, achievements, likes, online friends, carefully curated pictures and short-lived rave reviews.
The revolt of the Earth
The planet we inhabit has not left us without a witness to how it has been treated for billions of years by those before us. It has endured majestically and elegantly through the glaciers and ages past, mostly unknown to us. But here we come, still trying to figure out how the ancient Egyptians built the pyramids and the sphinxes, yet convincing ourselves that we are smarter and more brilliant. We pride ourselves on having more machines and skyscrapers.
We wrench the planet of life, blasting through ocean beds in search of a fillet to satisfy our insatiable craving. When the Earth revolts against us, we convince ourselves that technology will lead to a better planet. We move from fossil-fueled cars to electric vehicles, no longer drilling for oil but blowing through, to the core of the Earth if possible, in search of resources, leaving behind toxic underground and surface water, acid rain, and decimated ecosystems.
Yet, the Earth remains, refusing to be disposed of. What will go is us. In our youth, we lose our minds, and just as we are about to catch sight of old age, we breathe our last. We crave and seek the longevity of our forebears in a cocktail of supplements, social media postings, online courses, and exercise regimens. We forget that our longevity lies in our humanity. It lies in the way we treat our neighbors—humans, animals, and plant neighbors—in how long we laugh, and in how much our work or career helps to make life meaningful for others. Yes, it is also in the food we eat and how we eat it. We are the ones who lose when our diet consists of food manufactured for profit rather than wellness—food that we hurriedly grab because we are in a rush to get back to work; food that we eat in isolation, in front of our electronic devices, smiling and feeling connected to images far removed from our reality.
Rising
We must now reconsider our trajectory. We must rise above the pettiness of capital accumulation, and seek to genuinely reach the depths of community and connections. Our goal should be to join forces with the rest of humanity to align our passion with that of the Earth. Now is the time for the wise to arise, for those who genuinely care about present-day humans and the next generations to advocate for them, for the latter in absentia. This paradigm, this mindset, this education, this media, this reality that weighs heavily on our souls and wears us down must be reversed. We have to reclaim our lived realities and experiences. We must return to being human beings, here to be one with ourselves, with our neighbors, and with our planet.
