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MONDAY, JULY 5, 2019: NOTE TO FILE
A Day on the Beach
Practically perfect in every way
Eric Lee, A-SOCIATED PRESS
TOPICS: MOOP, FROM THE WIRES, LIVING IN THE FUTURE'S PAST, A MARY POPPINS DAY
Abstract: I wrote up an account of my day on the beach and later found a description from the future that matches what happened. As a few know, I have occasional access to the Wayforward Machine, but access to information is limited to such info as is part of the Info-Ether (the Internet replacement) as it will be in 403 AA (2353 CE), but no idea why I can only access info from that year. I 'googled' my name and found an obscure reference that MOOP Man, affectionately known as 'MOOPer Dude' or just 'MOOPer' (MOOP=Matter Out Of Place), had once been known as 'Eric Lee'. Apparently some future historian, perhaps in an alternative timeline, thought my day on the beach was important. It seems I do live in the future's past, as we all do.
COOS BAY (A-P) — I can attest to the value of social media, despite misgivings, as my wife used it to learn of a July 5th leanup on Bastendorff Beach and as I have nothing against beach cleanups, I went. I refrained from sharing in the illusion, however comforting, that I'd be helping to save the world by doing so (perhaps wrong again as usual). Despite all the people and dogs, it was a practically perfect day on a practically perfect beach (after we had cleaned it up from the prior day's celebrations). It used to be open to free overnight camping, but too much abuse and garbage lead authorities to close it to camping 'for the public good' (never mind Nature as externality).
Until about five years ago there were a number of homeless camps, some 'as neat as a pin clean' as maintained by the appreciative residents for having a place to stand (and sleep), but too many in the more typical camps piled up trash and residents lived in the debris of their lives as increasing numbers of the homed do, humans of NIMH all, homed or homeless. A decision was made to cleanup and clear out the homeless, all of them for good measure.
I didn't bring plastic bags to put the mostly plastic garbage in to throw it and a perfectly good bag 'away' as there is no away to throw stuff, so I brought it home to process. The first bag I found was small and black. Someone had bothered to pick up after their dog, but apparently didn't realize another step was involved (i.e. perhaps taking the bag home and composting the manure, then reusing the bag). I undid the knot and used it for debris, such as cigarette butts, and soon found a clear plastic bag for future use. I came upon an area with confetti on and mixed in the trampled sand. Apparently there is a firework that adds confetti with delayed light bursts that lights up the confetti wonderfully to enhance human pleasure. And what's not to like about that?
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This is the bag and confetti I picked up. |
Not hard to imagine some clever ape working for the fireworks company, angling for a raise, coming up with the idea and making it work. The advertising department gets to work and realizes the product is better than sex (or they want you to think it is), and oversold-from-birth consumers buy it (perhaps several) and watch awe struck as the pretty lights fill the night sky (for a time).
Such is the PROGRESS! we consumers of Stuff worship, the sort of technological innovation that typifies most technology and development of consumer products in the last two centuries. As Mark Twain noted, the life of we pathogens in techno-industrial society (aka civilization) is the seemingly 'limitless multiplication of unnecessary necessities'. And, yes, this includes cars and cell phones, bitches. Oh, but this new firework will look so cool, I want it, gotta have it, I have it, I liked it, I'll get more next year... and at no point does anyone ask, 'And then what?'
The 'and then what' involves about 3,200 pieces of 2 x 4 cm bits of colored plastic on the beach. But for a few seconds it looked so cool, entertained a few humans, helped grow the economy (in China), and that's what matters! But no harm done, since I spent just three hours crawling to and fro picking up bits of plastic, raking my fingers through the sand to reveal more until, near exhaustion, I nearly died... NOT as I had nothing better to do, no stress or pain involved, as mentioned it was a practically perfect day, and I was privileged to be by temperament and inclination, the only MOOPer who could do the job.
I had time alone to think. My wife and I had been to the Jordan Cove area the day before by kayak, at some risk to life and limb one might add (i.e. getting splashed by wind waves). It contains an estuary, part of the ten percent of Coos Bay that hasn't been altered much by development. It is slated to be the site of the LNG terminal planed to help grow the economy by sending liquefied natural gas to China to make consumer goods by turning it into CO2 and water vapor. Is it possible to stop progress?
Jordan Cove was still a place of life and beauty where fewer humans tread than most elsewheres. Instead of raping Mother Nature per business-as-usual (BAU), perhaps we should consecrate the land in a way that Mother might overlook, that would first do no harm. If enough people valued Jordan Cove as-is for the what-is (such of Nature as remains), demanded their 'right' to consecrate it as a place of beauty in such a manner as they deemed appropriate, then perhaps a Consecration State Park could occupy the area and be managed to balance human demands on Nature's resources. People could paddle from the other side to side with Nature, to take a stand and consecrate beauty by doing something beautiful. The handicapped could go there by road to the BLM boat launch to consecrate the place and know it for the first time.
The boundaries of the Park could grow (for a time) at the expense of the economy and consumer society. To provide full employment for the unemployed to come, the various industrial sites could be de-structured, industrial products removed and repurposed. The road to the North Spit could be the first in North America that went somewhere consumers with cars want to go, to be closed to all but human powered vehicles. No more ATVs ripping around, leaving only the surf's tormented roar. The entire North Spit would be restored so far as possible to what it once was before 1852 when the industrial revolution (Euro-Sino Empire) arrived.
Under non-business-as-usual management there would be a different sort of development (removal of industrial society artifacts) that is actually sustainable as removal of ruins is the start of Nature Restorancy (as assisted by Earth Guardians), as Nature will take about ten million years to fill empty niches with new species. The old pattern (paradigm) is replaced, as it cannot 'transition' to be its opposite. First the Cove, then the Spit, then Coos watershed, then south coast Oregon, and on to develop Cascadia and beyond, all under new management. The meme could be 'Consecrate, don't rape', the 21st century version of 'Make love, not war.' And why not? How's that rape, pillage, and empire-building thing been working for us civilized hu-mans? So spread the meme, and 'Be the change'.
What YOU WANT to see the world to be doesn't matter. Listen to Nature who has all the answers. In the real world it is system (as Mother) over SELF-accredited supremacy. If Momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.
'Be the change that you wish [or don't wish] to see in the world.' [that works long-term, that Nature selects for.] ― Mahatma Gandhi [updated]
'Be the change that works long-term. Or not, as failure is an option.' ― Nature, aka Gaia, Aluna, Mother [because 'you' don't get a vote]
I wrote the above before accessing information about things to come on the Wayforward Machine, so my account of the day came first. That I have used the Wayforward Machine may have altered the future I read about. I plan to kayak to the area once a week to consecrate the Remnant of Mother. Perhaps like the ever running Forrest Gump, others will come to do the same. Information about details that would be of interest to me was not recorded for posterity who have other interests. But some historians came to trace the transition point of the Great Tipping (from humancentric to naturcentric narratives) to 11Vi69 (July 5, 2019). Some parts of what I had written was Shared on social media by my wife on one of her Facebook pages (which I consider to be Faceborg pages). Somehow some thought that I had that day went viral (so Facebook saves the world), or gathered together a core of consecrationist enthusiasts who contended, like the gods themselves, seemingly in vain against stupidity, but who somehow prevailed. Some humans had had enough and they weren't going to take it anymore. Jordan Cove became the line in the sand.
The self-proclaimed owners of 'private property' (acquired from prior proclaimers), a legal fiction (private property otherwise known as Nature), tried to prevent trespassing, but kayakers could legally patrol the shoreline and, awaiting a window of opportunity, they could go ashore and consecrate the 'property' as they saw fit. Some offered ritual sacrifice involving Voodoo-like dolls of various effigies. Others brought 'offerings' in the Kogi manner. Each shared their experience on social media and the desire to consecrate spread as did ideas of how. Some keyed in on the sexual connotations of consecrate. They imagined the most beautiful offering they could make, and they did it on the beach.
Such desecration of private property vexed the owners who hired security to patrol the property, but not enough to prevent the more determined who then shared their adventures on social media, accounts of which spread like a wildfire, inflaming tens of millions to support them, to at least Like them, even if they could not join them. Thousands, however, could and adventures multiplied. The whole world was watching. Netflix commissioned two series, one a documentary and one a fictionalized narrative staring Emma Watson and Chris Hemsworth. And 'everyone' was talking about the new CCC (Consecrate the Cove Challenge) and its taking on of KAOS (Korporate Avarice On Steroids), the Growth Hegemon.
Security efforts were stepped up, but there were distractions and misdirections, and couples continued to consecrate on the beach. The endeavor of servants of the SYSTEM to interfere was widely viewed as anti-life, as an attempt to interfere with a deeply life-driven and beautiful purpose, and millions cheered from afar and evermore yelled from the North Bend shore while shaking their fists, brandishing signs (not guns), while awaiting their turn to man and woman a kayak. As with Gandhi's followers, there were victims and martyrs, but the whole world was literally watching, and the response of the teaming multitudes was overwhelmingly supportive.
The servants of the SYSTEM stood down, bowed to the IMF, the Illimitable Mother Force lead by my wife. A People's Consecration Park was proclaimed, the first to be managed by the United Federation of Watersheds per Academy of Evidence and Reason vetted policies. Life again flourished on the North Spit and as the decades passed, evermore of the 'new sustainable development' lead to a prosperity of Nature and thereby of humans insofar as they listened to Nature.
By the twenty-fourth century the biophysical economy of Coos Bay had changed beyond the imaginings of those of the early twenty-first century growthers (those Anthropocene enthusiasts), much as it had changed compared to how those who lived there in the early nineteenth century envisioned their future. While perhaps as verdant and almost as alive, albeit with less biodiversity as it once had known, the bay was still quite different than the pre-1852 bay. Wooden sailing ships were being built in Coos Bay (again) which specialized in building sailing cruise ships as tourism was a major part of the local economy. Many people, at least once in their lives, wanted to sail to Coos Bay and walk to Bastendorff Beach to view the MOOPer's statue (which wasn't quite where the confetti had been). It looks a bit like an older and wiser me, an ancient mariner of yore with a plaque commemorating the beginnings of the Taking Back of the Planet.
But there is always error, ignorance, and illusion to contend with. For example, according to the (mis)Info-Ether, NIMH stands for Nature's Illimitable MOOPer Hegemon, so 'humans of NIMH' seems like a deliriously wonderful thing to be. But if my typing is known to the future, why was error not corrected? Obviously a different timeline, so who knows what ours will be? I don't know what they think MOOP stands for, but perhaps they realized that humans are matter (and energy) out of place and that their only hope was to get right with Mother—to know the place and our place in it for the first time since our ancestors became empire-builders.
Do I believe what I see or read on the Wayforward Machine? That if my wife hadn't been on Facebook and I hadn't gone to the beach and my thoughts shared on Facebook, that the world wouldn't have been saved? That if you ask in the 24th century, 'What would the MOOPer do?' that everyone would know what you meant? No. I may not live long enough to see if the future as described comes to pass, and certainly it hasn't yet. Will a Consecration Movement arise? Will the ideas associated with it come to be considered by the intelligentsia types? Will there ever be a United Federation of Watersheds? Will industrialized hu-mans ever listen to Nature? I don't know. But I'll be going back to the Jordan Cove beach. Perhaps my wife will too and we'll consecrate it. A little beauty in the eyes of a beholder seems like a good thing that could lead to more good things.
Down with BAU. Down with Self and Other. Down with For and Against—Like and Dislike. Down with the consumer society. Down with democracy (and maybe up with naturocracy). It's not all about You or Me getting what You and I want. The narrative to tell is not 'I', but 'Nature in me and thee'. System (as Nature) over (the illusion of) SELF! Learn to tell better stories that iterate towards being true, that have the ring of truth, by listening to Nature.
But I don't believe anything. I suspect that life and everything is all a hologram universe created as a Higher School science project, and the information about the future is just some hyper-intelligent pan-dimensional kid's way of messing with me, just to see what happens. But I could be wrong. Still, as futures go, I could imagine worse.
Another Day at the Beach
JULY 30, 2019
I went from the shore at Grinnell Ln by kayak again to Jordan Cove to look for the Oracle Tree, or rather to listen to such as might speak to me, for all trees are Oracle Trees. But only one deigned to speak to me, so it is 'my' Oracle Tree, or I am its human. For others, another tree may speak wisdom, or perhaps a seagull will cry truth. The trees speak wisdom, the birds cry truth, i.e. testify to their life-driven purpose.
Will the same tree speak to more than one human? I don't know. Should the location of one's tree be shared with others? No, as among the vast sea of Anthropocene enthusiasts are some, perhaps many, who would delight to destroy any and all Oracle Trees to prove their supremacy. They can do so, though they will thereby cease to be ere long.
But I can share what my tree said to me. Of course to 'speak' is not what trees do. They have no need for complex verbal behavior, nor minds that chatter endlessly to no avail. But in their presence they communicate to those who would listen, who can list to Nature's teachings, listen to trees who offer verities beyond that of the chattering mind's ability to grasp. I could say that the tree said, 'I want to live.' The tree is in an area certain to be destroyed by the Jordan Cove development. I had sat at the master's roots for quite some time, but heard only the chatter of my own mind. But like muddy water in a glass, remaining still for some time helped to clarify the mind wonderfully.
The mind paused for a moment, and the presence of the Other was manifest; that of Self faded away. The All was none other than the Not-two. I realized that 'I want to live' was as parsed through my Indo-European mind as bewitched by language. In Chinese the personal pronoun and verb would be omitted. The tree said, 'live' and for as long as I could listen it never stopped saying so.
My mind is a trove of cognitive pathologies. It said, 'so live and let live', but no sooner had the abominable words been sub-vocalized, than the thought, in the presence of the tree, ended. In the silence it was clear that there was no 'I' to live and that I was in no position to let the tree or another beings live. I could only limit my killing of them by living within limits, which is wholly other than taking credit for their continued living, rather like a conqueror taking credit for letting the survivors of genocide live. The hubris in the 'let live' is what makes us pathogenic hu-mans.
I have listened, but in vain; chattered on and on to no avail, for what can words say—what can narratives tell— of things that have no yesterday, tomorrow, or today. I can but oppose, unto my own death, all narratives and acts of conquest. O my Tree, I shall not forsake thee, for the One is none other than the All.
'To him who in the love of Nature holds communion with her visible forms, she speaks a various language... Go forth, under the open sky, and list to Nature's teachings, while from all around— Earth and her waters, and the depths of air— comes a still voice.... Lose thyself in the continuous woods where rolls the Oregon... All that breathe will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh when thou art gone, the solemn brood of care plod on, and each one as before will chase his favorite phantom;... So live, that when thy summons comes to join the innumerable caravan... thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed by an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave like one who wraps the drapery of his couch about him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.'
— William Cullen Bryant
'The One is none other than the All, the All none other than the One.
Take your stand on One-All, and the rest will follow of its accord;
To trust in the Heart is the "Not-two," the "Not-two" is to trust in the Heart.'— Zhen on mindful science
'Philosophy is a battle against the bewitchment of our intelligence by means of our [Indo-European] language'.
— Ludwig Wittgenstein
'Thou shall treasure thy heritage of information, and in the uniqueness of thy good works and complex roles will thy system reap that which is new and immortal in thee.'
