The responsibility to keep flowing
This is an excerpt from my journal. I describe the prevailing conditions in my mountains and how those relate to matters of complacency, responsibility, foresight, and adaptability.
The rainy days continue. Twice I went with the dogs for a walk while it was pouring, only to encounter heavy rainfall along the way. We could not afford to stay indoors any longer. The dogs need it and I enjoy my hikes as well. I have ran out of dry shoes to wear, though this is not a major problem: I can always walk barefoot, which I have done plenty of times. Granted, that is not my preferred mode of traversing the mountains, as it increases the risk of injury. Though I can tolerate it—and I am extra cautious.
This morning I discovered that the side of the slope opposite my land collapsed under the pressure. The stream below it is very strong right now, as are the showers coming from above. My side remains intact because of the flood-control projects I have been doing. I rely on natural means, such as grass/herbs/bushes for holding together the surface level and roots of trees to keep the underground in place. Though I have also added rocks and whatever odds and ends I could gather to function as barriers that shield the land from the running waters.
There are landslides in many parts around my area. Large boulders have rolled downhill. I expect more of the same for the next ~10 days. It is what happens after two years of drought. Though the human element cannot be underestimated.
Most farmers have this misbegotten notion that everything in and around their land should stay “clean”. They thus cut down everything, poison it, and burn it, leaving a near-naked landscape in their wake: neat and tidy, for sure. Then, when this kind of weather finally arrives, they can only marvel at what I may poetically describe as “the wrath of the gods”.
The gods are not interested in avenging anybody or in helping us fight for some cause. That sort of narrative gives us too much credit. What is happening here is a matter for people to use their common sense, take responsibility for their deeds, and stop blaming their lack of foresight on the putative whims of the divine.
Everything matters in the system. There is nothing that you can eliminate without incurring a cost. Everything you do has far-reaching implications, whose effects condition the subsequent workings of the system. You remove a so-called “useless” tree from the edges of your land, thus creating a vacuum. In its stead shall arise a new order, whose particularities you have not foreseen and no longer control for. It starts with a small slide until it turns into a deep fissure.
What happens in our natural milieu also applies to human affairs, even though we mistakenly fancy ourselves as occupying a special place in the natural order. For example, international relations exhibit the same pattern of a power vacuum being filled in by newer forces. There is no such thing as idleness or rest. The cultures which think they have done their part and can now “just chill” are those which will go extinct. But I digress.
The point is that it is irresponsible to be complacent about any given status quo. Perform rigorous inspections. Question how things are. If something stands the test of time, try to understand it instead of dismissing it as old and parochial: it probably encodes millennia of wisdom, whose finer points elude you. In other words, do not be smug and do not take what you have for granted. This can be about the land you are homesteading or the polity you are a member of. Everything can degenerate quickly if left unchecked.
Complacency is, at its core, a turn inward. It happens when the person or group no longer has situational awareness. They do not pay attention to their environment. Indeed, they think of their surroundings as inert “environment”, as that which merely envelops their subject, instead of a living organism with its own patterns of behaviour: a system of systems all the way up and down. To turn inward is to think of oneself as special, at least in the belief that one is immune to damage or decline.
Complacency is typically made manifest in views that tout humankind as exceptional in this world. “God loves you”, is an oft spoken claim. “You” in particular? How cute! Will the application of the rules be suspended just because of “you”, darling? Of course not. I think it is more appropriate, for the sake of artistic expression, to say that the gods do not tend to our wellness in particular, either individually or collectively, but to the cosmic balance at-large. The rest is your problem. If, for example, you do not account for the mechanics of the living universe that you are a part of, and if you thus proceed to destroy the elements of it whose functioning you do not understand, then no god will come to your rescue once calamity inevitably strikes.
When farmers here opt for the easy solution of spraying poison all over the place and setting the rest on fire, they think they have discovered some miraculous “science” that lets them get the job done in a few minutes instead of labouring at the farm all day. In other words, they fancy themselves as smart. What they do not consider are the externalities. There is a cost to keeping the place “clean”, only it is beyond the horizon of their short-term thinking.
All of this is an exercise in prescience and decisiveness; an exercise in assuming responsibility and taking the initiative. I knew that there would come a day where the severe droughts would be followed by intense precipitation. For several months since the early days I got here I laboured to secure my position. And I remain vigilant in case of an emergency.
Everything continues to flow. To live in this world, one has to be adaptable, poised to act when the situation demands it, while also ready to change their ways if the results are not as expected. Above all, though, one must show respect and self-awareness in recognising their limits. We all learn from mistakes. The key is to embed all teachings into our lifestyle, without thinking too highly of what we do.
I can hear the running waters from my room. I enjoy listening to them all day. This is a beautiful state of affairs. Whether it is so despite or because of its latent danger, I cannot tell. Perhaps both. Awe is, after all, the combination of admiration and fear. What I do get as part of the input is also a stark reminder that this world is not (i) revolving around me and (ii) conspiring in my favour. Underestimate the phenomena or overestimate your abilities and your life shall be forfeit.