the end of the world

I am currently reading Ishmael by Daniel Quinn. A surprisingly easy but philosophical novel. It has me thinking, which means it’s good. 

I find myself reflecting upon the premise that we, humans, live. Are so much of our problems to do with entitlement? That the world, this earth, is ours for the taking? That we use it as we will, because it is our birthright? I wonder how we got here.

It makes little sense to destroy the thing that sustains our life. 

I am reminded of what Tyson Yunkaporta says about Echidnas in Sand Talk. 

“Beings of higher intelligence are already here, always have been. They just haven’t used their intelligence to destroy anything yet”.

To think that this world is more mine, than an Echidna’s, seems like a phenomenal act of narcissism. 

He goes on to say the following

“Maybe the reason all the powerful instruments pointed at the sky have not yet been able to detect high-tech alien civilisations is that these unsustainable societies don’t last long enough to leave a cosmic trace”

So often we talk about leaving our mark, as if we need to inscribe ourselves into the body of this environment so that we aren’t forgotten. Well we are certainly leaving our mark, and it isn’t one to be particularly proud of.