I have been oscillating, spiritually, since I became Peak Oil aware. Before this tumult, I concentrated, wholeheartedly, on trying to spread a message of love and compassion. On being a good person. My spiritual questing was informed largely by Quakerism and Buddhism - paths that advocate kindness, pacifism and even-temperedness. Despite a being deeply flawed individual, I would meditate on directing ‘metta’ - loving kindness - to all sentient beings as far as I was able.
In 2005, I was hit by a freight-train of awareness that my heart could not assuage. Simultaneously, I felt rage swell in my core as I beheld the realpoliltik - the malfeasance and insanity of the globalist agenda. The evil promulgated by the lies and prevarications of the corporatists ever permeated my being. As I bore witness to the modus operandi of our fear-based death culture, it felt like a tapeworm was inching its way through my soul.
I left the Society of Friends’ (Quaker) Sunday meditations as I felt increasingly unable to subscribe to their pacifist ideal. I read Derrick Jensen and Ward Churchill and tasted a metallic truth therein. Lady anarchy was a way forward of sorts, yet there was little spiritual consolation to be had within her dictates as somewhere, deep down, my heart had been utterly broken. Literally smashed into smithereens by the sheer insidiousness of the Bilderberger Group, PNAC, the Trilateral Commission and the many other power-wielding cabals, big and small, that value power over virtue, death over life.
This is not the world I want. I cannot help but mourn this every single day. Every time I catch an ugly sound bite from the mouth of a far-right (so-called) ‘Christian’ regarding the poor, the illegal immigrant or the homosexual, I spiritually fragment a little more. Simultaneously, the thing that I am becoming, the individual stocking up on 00 buckshot, ossifies and hardens.
I was reminded of this disconnect from my former incense-burning self, trenchantly, just last week. My son brought home the words to the song that he is to sing on Wednesday as part of his kindergarten’s Christmas concert. When I heard him sing, I felt the pull of that entire world-view that had been evanescing, leeching from my soul. It goes:
“It’s about peace. It is about joy.
It’s about every girl and boy.
It’s about family. It’s about caring.
It’s about people giving and sharing.
It’s about peace, it’s about joy.
It’s about love.”
Surely this is what Christmas should be about, not about the dopamine hit from the purchase of useless gewgaws. Moreover, I wish I could better temper my fatalism with the sentiment enshrined in the above song. Surely, as Buddha maintained, there must be a middle way. While I do not wish to collapse into mawkish sentimentality, there has to be more to life than merely steeling oneself to deal with marauding Mutant Biker Zombies.
I am a doomer, yet, it seems, I also have this big human heart. Furthermore, in the final analysis, it seems as though it will not completely go away.
