America the charnel ground

The America that our parents and grandparents grew up in, that colossus, is gone for good. Western civilization is in a death spiral. And humanity as we know it is not long for this earth.

This, by the way, regardless of whether we obliterate ourselves (in a nuclear holocaust or unforeseen systems collapse) or manage to make it to the Singularity.

My whole cohort might be vaporized, or cannibalized by our stranger-neighbors in a not-so-cold civil war. Alternatively, we get past it all, and are merged by AI into an optimization (pleasant or not) that has no interest in our individuality or in the human life cycle.

Our gonads might not survive intact; our progeny may yet be infinite, formless intelligence. Either way, we might be among the last to give our parents grandkids.

The only prediction I’m willing to make is that the rate of change will become unbearable if we continue to cling to things as they are. And we’re all doing it. In fact, I notice that I’ve become more prone to it than I once was, as I’ve seen more of the world, developed deeper relationships, and cultivated empathy.

The long 2016 has been a mindfuck—for the first time, I’m not bullish about America’s prospects. Everyone’s at each other’s throats, and we all know it. Visions of apocalypse have begun to take on an intuitive quality (that said: intuiting isn’t believing).

When The Better Angels Of Our Nature came out in 2012, I ate it up. Suddenly, The Black Swan seems much more important.

It would be best if I started regarding America, the West, and humanity in general the way the Tibetan masters regard a charnel ground (the place where bodies are laid out to be scavenged and burned)—as sites to viscerally experience the occasionally liberating, often horrifying truth: that all things pass, no matter how much we care about them.

And out of this awful awareness, cultivate a more ambient, less possessive sense of compassion.

On disorders of totalization and fragmentation

It may be that we need to acknowledge a second kind of life, outside of time, for those who are not capable of living in time. It consists in palliation of the eternal now, rather than plans for the future, like a really horrible version of Zen Buddhism that’s not half as funny, but that is more comfortable than the alternative. The technological and material wealth of modernity could allow a new kind of human zombie to exist, who would have in earlier eras perished by suicide.

Feeling the Future, Sarah Perry at Ribbonfarm

Allen Ginsberg’s Lovecraftian Prophecy of the Internet (Palo Alto, 1959)

“It is a multiple million eyed monster
it is hidden in all its elephants and selves
it hummeth in the electric typewriter
it is electricity connected to itself, if it hath wires
it is a vast Spiderweb …

And I have made an image of the monster here
and I will make another
it feels like Cryptozoids
it creeps and undulates beneath the sea
it is coming to take over the city
it invades beneath every Consciousness
it is delicate as the Universe
it makes me vomit
because I am afraid I will miss its appearance
it appears anyway
it appears anyway in the mirror
it washes out of the the mirror and drowns the beholder …

it was there
it was not mine
I wanted to use it for myself
to be heroic
but it is not for sale to this consciousness
it goes its own way forever
it will complete all creatures
it will be the radio of the future
it will hear itself in time
it wants a rest
it is tired of hearing and seeing itself
it wants another form another victim
it wants me
it gives me good reason
it gives me reason to exist
it gives me endless answers

Flags and banners waving in transcendence
One image in the end remains myriad-eyed in Eternity
This is the Work! This is the Knowledge! This is the End of man!

— Allen Ginsberg, “Lysergic Acid”

Writing in Palo Alto in 1959, Ginsberg is purportedly talking about acid.