Wednesday, December 14, 2011

On making a giant mess of things



So, basically, we’ve fucked a lot of things up. You know, destroying, plundering and wasting finite resources, casually but drastically reducing biodiversity on the planet, altering the natural environment so radically that not only are species we depend on (take bees, as one example) struggling to survive but humans will suffer directly from the changes as well.

Yeah, yeah, you’ve heard it all before. But the really obscene thing about the whole mess is that we haven’t really enjoyed ourselves in the process. We—at least Americans, whom, being a born and bred American myself, I feel more qualified to comment on, and whom represent the quintessence of the consumerist culture heading up all this destruction—aren’t very happy. I know it’s no news flash, but owning stuff doesn’t make us feel content, joyful, awe-inspired, or importantly, safe. Anxiety is a major buzzkill, and many of us Americans hold more than our fair share of it (most of us don’t live in war zones, but our adrenaline levels may look like it). I’d even venture to guess that the richest among us—the top 1%— aren’t deeply fulfilled and joyful people on the whole. However, not being in the first percentile financially myself maybe I have no business speculating.

The way I see it, the consumerist years have been akin to a big binge on a store-bought birthday cake…the consumption brings very little pleasure in and of itself, but we avoid the discomfort of denying ourselves the gluttony.

I don’t believe, however, that consumption itself causes unhappiness. There is pleasure to be had in owning beautiful things or eating delicious food. It seems to me that the real problem is that consumption, the new king, has displaced those things that make humans, by nature, truly happy. More on this to come…

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