10 Ways To Save The World

By Margot Woodford

I am a human being. There are billions like me. I can’t possibly be alone, the odds are stacked too heavily for that to be. My thoughts and feelings and outlook on life are not those of the men I have been aspiring to mimic.

I am without one to mimic and I’m sure there are plenty of other people who feel the same these days. Our myths and our stories have been rationalized and replaced with only that which is certain. Yet we live in uncertainty, the universe is uncertain. Particles and people, satellites and suns carry in every atom that which we know to be certain sitting on top of uncertainty, within uncertainty knowing only little about ourselves through increments of centuries. We have all grown from nowhere into this world of matter and things we see before us through a chain of humans, back to the very first one, and further through all organisms to the birth of life itself, and the pregnant planet that bore it. A force that must have its origin in all origin, and therefore akin to existence itself. Everything is then an emanation of a driving force of existence, the same force that at varying levels of complexity, through cells and motherboards or people and planes causes all things to be. Existence as energy and force woven into the fabric of space and time, there is no disconnection, merely words for one great thing. And we too are a part of that.

Humans are swimming in the universe as water within water. The universe, as its name implies, is one thing, of which we are a part. Words break existence as ideas do consciousness. They are all merely emanations of one thing, existence and the physical world we perceive. Our scientists are positive this is the case and so, in those extreme cases, choose to live only with the little we can be certain about. The rest is left to the unfathomable until it can be evidently shown otherwise. This time lag of assurance and promulgation of the nature of the world as it can be agreed upon is humble enough to withdraw its grandiose assertions of the understanding of the universe when eventually someone sees it all from a different place in space, time or the mind itself. Yet scientists seem so sure as if they’ve cracked it and seen through the eyes of God each time they claim to do so and in many instances that is the best way to describe it. But this happens in increments, someone else always comes along and reshapes the whole understanding of what existence even is given enough time.

But the worst times are when uncertainty looms overhead, becoming harder and harder to ignore, no one saying anything, the certain standing steadfast as loyal subjects or disciples of truth. That is where we are heading today, on a psychological passion of humanity and civilization and existence itself as it was before man emerged and named it. We have seen the Last Supper, Dali’s crucifixion, the ghost world of existentialism and the hard bloody reality of matter. What we are yet to see is the immaterial, the non-physical, the sub-atomic, the euphemistic and elusive dark matter, the depths of space and the light and dark therein.

The door out of certainty leads to the void. We are stood on its edge embracing our 20th Century fathers goodbye as his daughter in a kiss seen by Klimt, leaving him to the world our old God’s kept and searching for the one they lost. But this kiss is foreboding to our souls, we avert our eyes, there is too much beauty to be missed and so little certainty ahead, into which we must trust our selves only. Through us speak the lessons of evolution; silently, intuitively and unconsciously, as if they held no space at all and yet we feel them. What is man but thought and matter interlaced? My ideas hold no space, they only transfer through the material world in action. My brain activity in its physical sense is a reaction, an effect to a previous action or cause. The primary cause of an idea that did not heretofore exist in my brain must emanate from something else, something immaterial made possible by the material. It’s source can be burrowed through the labyrinth of my entire memory, or into the atoms of my physical brain ad infinitum. We know of no limit, nor has any other that has come before us. This space has been guarded by Gods or additional words created to map existence in any decipherable way it may present itself physically, even the tiniest of physical traces. There are always more words and labels for what we can see, each word is a flame that lights a thought.

Beyond there is only darkness, as decipherable as death. In the West we know not what death is, we have held that experience of death in life is unobservable by definition, you can’t come back. Therefore we hold that no living person can know of death. Yet we know it to be certain. And it is all around us, constantly becoming, changing from one death to another through each thing that comes and passes – that which is held in the eternal present’s eye, kept moist in life. It knows no past or future, only timeless immediacy where letters fly off a spinning target with every name we try to throw.