Karma is more complicated than the flip quip, “Shit happens.” It is the motion of all things, and the interaction of all things with every other. Everything moves. Everything.
Any scientist with half an ion of integrity will admit that what we know about the conveyance of all things is infinitesimal, but we do know that if we continue to saw down the rain forests the Earth will suffocate. If we continue to lay asphalt across the Great American Plains—as they do in Denver—and if we continue to flatten mountains for their rare resources and metals—as they did just west of Salt Lake City—we bring animal species to the brink of extinction. Annihilation of living organisms and beings decreases the diversity of life on this planet. Without diversity, life dies—ask the bees.
For the moment, we still have choices to make about life on Earth. In the end, we will have but one: whether to suffer or die (though when it comes to that one decision, it might no longer be up to us).
We bring ourselves closer to the final choice with every current action. Shop at Costco, Walmart, Sam’s Warehouse, Sax Fifth Avenue and other mega-corporations now and we proliferate the circumstances for which we will pay dearly later. Power our fossil fueled cars, airplanes, and boats now and any apology we offer our children tomorrow will be pointless. Purchase unnecessary items sealed in plastic blister packs, pack our groceries in plastic bags, purchase plastic bottles of water and we erect mountains of toxic disaster.
The crystal blue marble that orbits a star at the verge of a galactic arm which spirals insignificantly through an indifferent eternity is vibrant and full of life. The planet survives because of the diversity upon it, and the relationship of one living being with another.
With every choice we make, we fray the threads that hold together the fabric of our existence. Our motion rips, burns, and fragments life.
(My mother always wore stockings, and I remember vividly what happened when they suffered a hole—a number of threads failed, and within minutes they all began to go).
Every morning I walk outside with the two Chihuahuas who live with my wife and I. They move from one moment to the next within each moment—content to sniff the air, go potty, and to then return inside for their homemade breakfast. They have no idea that I fix their food by hand to avoid feeding them GMOs and GEs. They have no idea that CO2 levels have surpassed four hundred parts per million. They have no idea that the polar caps decrease daily.
We do, and yet so few of us make choices that seem as if we want to do something about impending disaster. We talk about doing great deeds, but heroes no longer exist. Only Average Joe can save us now.
Often, when I stand outside beneath an ancient apple tree with two tiny dogs, I wonder what needs to happen for us to make the right choice. I wonder if we are capable of making it.
(Stole this photo from The Telegraph)
(Stole this photo from the New York Times)