We rush impetuously into novelty,
driven by a mounting sense of insufficiency,
dissatisfaction and restlessness.
We refuse to recognize that everything better
is purchased at the price of something worse.”
Carl Gustav Jung
At first I saw our crisis,
our existential crisis,
through the eyes of a caregiver
in Planetary Hospice.
In one zen bed self-aware beings
who know they are dying – sweet at the end.
In the other everyone else unaware,
live we’ve always known ending,
oceans dying, species ceasing to exist, ho hum…
We are all apart together
in the midst of Stage Four Grieving
our lost indwelling connection to the natural
world, our mother, Earth.
Depression. That’s Stage Four – our terminal depression.
Societal eco-suicidal denial-fueled depression.
Black is the new black…
I saw the best minds of my generation falling
into Gnosticism’s abysmal pit of despair
masked in scientific cynicism and rampant self
medication – medicating the Self.
While others by some miracle of human nature
aware, light-bodies projected on a shrouded planet,
luminously aware, already self-liberated in
the 5th Elemental Stage – acceptance.
Self-meditating others, planting seeds of light in
darkened soil with compassion.
But mostly, by far, there is madness all about,
the overshadowing masses acting out
together in fossil-fueled distraction,
Plutonic clouds gathering o’er our heads,
plastic oceans filling with subconscious corpses,
heat of coil oil carbon blazing in a world afire
and 1.4 billion bovines biliously belching
greenhouse ovens storing future freight trains full
of the unborn DOAs.
“Europe is broken. America – broken.”
The real natural man
is just in open rebellion
against the utterly inhuman form
of [modern] life.
What are we going to do
to wake up?
Exactly the right question for our times.
What is keeping us in our alarming slumber?
Why this feeling of digitized stuckness in
the next-to-last-grieving stage,
our societal ecocidal depression?
I thought grieving was just the
other side of loving, Grief walker?
And then I saw afresh, me this child
of the dying baby boom generation, of a soldier whose
ship landed in Nagasaki 14 days after
fat boy was dropped, the smell of incinerated flesh
still sickly fresh in the smoldering air…
“What keeps us stuck in the despair of our
collective grieving, glioblastoma papa?”
The answer so obvious, son, in your atomic juke box DNA.
Collective Trauma. Climate Trauma.
The Great Depression this time as yet
unacknowledged, fueling yet another Great Dying.
We are Witnesses to the Resurrection
of all our historical traumas raised from
the dead, who Jung believed were more alive
than the living, having on CGI Crucifixes like
an Infinity World Wide Web of War,
this 24/7 Fight Fright & Flight News Network,
taking us by stormy seas, by tweets and dying
songbirds, red tide rising and dead baby
whales washed up from the watered graveyards
of our American Dream.
When am I going to wake up?
Whistling right past Me Too,
Black Lives Matter, and Water Protectors,
ripping the babies from their crying mother’s breasts.
THIS is Climate Trauma!
THIS is something new.
The enemy of the people is truth.
And sadly, truth really is true – no matter
what you see, hear or read.
There are no alternatives.
Are we ready yet in this clown car train
to Treblinka to bravely face the terrible truth?
Our entire biosphere under continual assault
from the banality of business-as-usual,
the surging and relentless funereal march of
planes and plastics, cluster bombs and cars,
smart phones and dumb-ass consumers
consuming 7 wars and counting.
The countdown… the horror… Pandora is out
of her box.
THIS is Climate Trauma.
When am I going to wake up?