This beautiful place

Stop and smell the roses.

I don’t care. I’m going to die one day, we all are, so why not sooner rather than later.

It just seems to be a waste of time, doesn’t it? Caring, I mean, about anything. It doesn’t matter how loudly we shout or whether we risk life and limb taking to the streets and protesting. Or, how tightly the knots in our stomachs are tied, how reasoned our arguments are, or how much devastation the climate causes to our way of life. None of it makes the slightest difference.

We recycle until the cows come home, only use stuff from “sustainable” sources, buy thrift shop clothing because it’s ecologically better, walk instead of taking the car. Individually, we can tick all the boxes but still, it’ll make no difference because we are asking the very same people who caused the shitshow in the first place, to sort it out. It’s never, ever going to happen. Never.

It’s not the planet that needs help, it’s us. We can reach out to whichever god is the flavour of the month, to politicians, to anyone but, the trouble is, the phones are ringing empty. Our letters are being returned unopened. There’s no one at the helpdesk. At the moment we’re in denial but eventually, the penny will drop that we must do it for ourselves. Even then most of us won’t have the guts because it’ll take a total change in everything we do – new democracy, new financial systems, new wealth distribution, a new society, new food production, new attitudes to population size, new energy, new transport, new communications. The list goes on.

Until we are prepared to enter a brave new world, we may as well carry on doing what we’re doing and shut the fuck up.

The Seven Lamps of Civilisation

Population Matters

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© Rod McRiven 2021

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