In the last segment of a complex dream, I am somehow bonded with a young woman. We are both at the end of our teens. We are not related and there’s no erotic buzz, or, if so, only a faint one. We are joined, rather, in a quest to visit the surface of the earth. No-one we know or know of has ever been there, but there are stories of such journeys in the past.
Our quest has been widely talked about in the busy, crowded underground community of which we are part. Opinions about its wisdom vary. There are longstanding fears of the uncanny Uplands. But this journey to the surface, and to a specific building traditionally understood to be or have been there, matters to many people. For us and our supporters, there’s a sense of pilgrimage about this enterprise. We understand it as a sacred mission. It might lead to consequential encounters – new and healing connections – contradicting our ingrained aversion to the open surface world. Or of course, in a variety of ways, it might not.
Our ascent will be either in an remarkably plush-looking lift or by climbing a long spiral staircase that looks shabby and undermaintained. Arrived at the bottom of the lift, we hesitate. An ancient AI, presenting as a humanoid robot, manages this lift. They sing its praises but we don’t trust them. Our instincts say that the staircase is the right way to go. My companion and I both suspect that whilst lift and staircase are adjacent at their underground departure point, they may be more distant at the top. They may lead to different destinations. The choice between them matters, and intuition is our only guide.
My companion moves decisively to the bottom of the stairs and begins to run up them. I follow, also running. We continue to bound up the stairs, regardless of possible weaknesses in their structure. I experience a flash of gratitude for the renewed youth that allows me to do this. Then I wake up.
I am grateful to the Druid community for its varied ways of working with the 8-fold wheel of the year – especially when the festivals are placed in the context of the gradually turning wheel. Within that patterning of both nature and experience, I find the equinoctial periods and my response to them the least predictable of times.
The picture above shows a pre-equinoctial evening in Weymouth harbour, Dorset, England, round about 6 pm. I found this moment gentle and relaxing. The soft sunlight on the houses, boats and water seemed like a welcome home. I was born only 30 miles from Weymouth and it is part of my childhood landscape, my motherland. I took the picture on 18 September, the first day of my first visit for decades. I felt as if I was in a final afterglow of summer, content on familiar ground.
My wife Elaine and I spent only four days in Weymouth. Even over this brief period, we both had a strong sense of the advancing dark, in the mornings and the evenings alike, a shifting alternation of night and day that increasingly favoured night. One of our days was also dominated by high winds and driving rain, followed by a night in which we felt damp and chilled to the bone, unused as we now are to old buildings.
That night I had a rare experience of broken sleep and uncanny dreams. Eventually I woke up fully to a startling level of condensation on old window panes, obscuring an otherwise stunning view. For me this equinoctial period has, at least psychically, emphasised a shift towards the dark rather than a moment of poise and balance. Not a full dark, perhaps, but drained of colour, direction unknown.
The turning of the wheel never stops. On 23 September, the morning of the equinox, I felt the pleasure that can come from enjoying home after a break. I also noticed that the world beyond our many balcony doors was very clearly proclaiming a victory for the darker half of the year. This will be the setting for my journey for some time to come.
Whereas in the world I feel currently secure, I am conscious of uncertainties within. I do not quite see my critical-creative direction. In my 75th year, I wonder about ‘creative ageing’ (an old catch-phrase for me) and ‘critical wisdom’ (a new one). Hot air? Or genuine signposts? The Weymouth visit has stirred me up, but to what specific purpose I don’t yet know.
In recent months I have felt an increasing pull towards better understanding our current ecological, cultural and political crises. From a Druid perspective, I am mindful of my commitments to nature and all beings, and accountability to all our ancestors and descendants. From a contemplative perspective, I am bearing witness to the world in which I breathe: any ‘beyond’ is accessible only from within. From an inquiry perspective there is much to inquire about.
So Jem Bendall’s new book, Breaking Together: a Freedom Loving Response to Collapse (1), is important for me both to learn from and to write about. In this post I describe two concepts that I see as driving the book: ‘deep adaptation’ and ‘critical wisdom’. Bendall explains these concepts in a way that gives me questions to ask and tools to use. Boiled down, they are not complicated. The words that follow are his, not mine.
Deep Adaptation
“Deep Adaptation refers to the personal and collective changes that might help us to prepare for – and live with – a collapse of the societies we live within. Unlike mainstream work on adaptation to ecological and climate change, it doesn’t assume that our current economic, social and political systems can be resilient in the face of rapid climate change. The ethos is one of curious and compassionate engagement with this new reality, seeking to reduce harm and learn from the process, rather than turn away from the suffering of others and nature.
“There is an emphasis on dialogue, with four questions to help people explore how to be and what to do if they have this deep outlook on the future.
“What do we want to keep and how is a question of resilience.
“What do we need to let go of, so as not to make matters worse, is a question of relinquishment.
“What could we bring back to help us with these difficult times, is a question of restoration.
“With what and who shall we make peace as we awaken to our mutual mortality, is a question of reconciliation.”
Critical Wisdom
“What I term ‘critical wisdom’ is the elusive capability for understanding oneself in the world that combines insight from mindfulness, rationality, critical literacy, and intuition.
“A capability for mindfulness involves our awareness of the motivations for our thought, including our mind states, emotional reactions and why we might want to ‘know’ about phenomena.
“A capability for rationality involves an awareness of logic, logical fallacies and forms of bias.
“A capability for critical literacy involves awareness of how the tools by which we think, including linguistically constructed concepts and stories, are derived from, and reproduce, culture, including relationships of power.
“A capability for intuition involves awareness of insights from non-conceptual experiences including epiphanies and insights from non-ordinary states of consciousness.”
For me, Jem Bendall provides an invaluable set of questions to ask and tools to use under the headings of Deep Adaptation and Critical Wisdom. The questions refine my understanding of Deep Adaptation. The combination of understandings that lead to wisdom are, as a set, new to me, though I was already aware of the individual elements. ‘Critical Wisdom’ reframes my sense of wisdom, more clearly experienced as a dynamic processes of wise-ing.
(1) Jem Bendell Breaking Together: A Freedom-Loving Response to Collapse Bristol: Good Works, 2023 (Good Works is an imprint of the Schumacher Institute – see also https://www.schumacherinstitute.org.uk). I can certainly recommend this book now, on the grounds of both its wide knowledge and deep wisdom. I may write a full review in future.
NB: Jem Bendell is a world-renowned scholar on the break-down of modern societies due to environmental change. A full Professor with the University of Columbia, he is a sociologist specialising in critical integrative interdisciplinary research analysis on topics of major social concern. His Deep Adaptation paper influenced the growth of the EXtinction Rebellion movement in 2018, and he created a global network to reduce harm in the face of societal collapse (the Deep Adaptation Forum). Although recognised as a Young Global Leader by the World Economic Forum in 2012, Bendell has been increasingly critical of the globalist agenda on sustainable development.”
Forgiving Humanity (1) is an extended essay rather than a book. I found it easy to read and hard to work with. Author Peter Russell is highly skilled at distilling data and making his case. His conclusion is that the near term extinction of the human species is inevitable, and not unnatural or to be faulted. “We are coming to the end of our species’ journey, spinning faster and faster into the center of an evolutionary spiral.”
Russell points to what he sees as our our natural-born drive for exponential growth and development. A dance of genetic and behavioural change led us to an enhanced brain, bi-pedal walking, manual dexterity, and a shift in the position of the larynx to enable complex speech. Cultural evolution then led to organised hunting with the throwing spear and, later, the bow. Later still, at an increasing rate of change, came agriculture, metallurgy, the industrial revolution (from steam to atomic power in not much more than a century) and, most recently, the accelerating information revolution now leading to the rise of AI. Quantum computing is on the horizon.
The problem according to Russell is that exponential growth is inherently predestined to run out of control. This is “the curse of exponential change.” Exponential growth is not like the linear growth that we can more comfortably imagine. In the domain of economics, for example, 3% annual growth rate in the world’s GDP, compounded over 100 years, would lead to a consumption of energy and resources at 20 times today’s rate. Russell started thinking about this problem as a young and gifted mathematician at the end of the 1960s. On his analysis, we would be fatally fouling our own nest even without the specific problem of the climate crisis. Climate change simply exacerbates and dramatises our predicament, hastening the process of breakdown.
Russell is aware of systemic injustices in our socio-economic system, but this book does not explore political mitigations. He expects major breakdown in this century. A remnant population in reduced circumstances will carry on for a while longer. But this human triggered extinction event, which has already claimed many other species, will still be rapid in planetary terms. In the immediate future, Russell sees a likelihood of continuing technological breakthroughs for some decades, in the midst of extensive cultural breakdown and a diminishing global population. I am not certain that he is right, but I fear that he may be. And I find him hard to read, trying to imagine what it would be like for different people in different places, and stepping into their boots down here in the trenches where embodied human life is lived until it’s gone.
Whilst the earlier sections of Forgiving Humanity are presented as if from the perspective of a distant cosmic scientist, there is a later turn to human experience and how to live in the new conditions. Peter Russell becomes one of us and shares his long-held view of consciousness and its possibilities, especially the affirmation that: “beneath our day-to-day experience lies a deeper sense of being, unperturbed by the goings on in the world, and our hopes and fears about them … meditative and self-enquiry processes … lead to greater calm and self-awareness, and … the more in touch we are with our inner being, the more considerate, compassionate, and caring we become – qualities that could prove invaluable in meeting the challenges ahead.” I also like his idea of remaining in service to the earth whenever we can, continuing to do our best for it even when knowing that our species is waning and likely to wink out. The notion of persevering with restorative efforts allows for limited local successes, seems like a healing process in itself and preserves a sense of positive agency in hard times. I am sure that people will continue to work in these ways whenever given half a chance.
For Russell, psycho-spiritual practices and communities are a key resiliency factor for navigating through heart-breaking conditions. We need to “find the acceptance that allows us to move into the unknown with courage and an open heart”. Russell says that facing our collective extinction is like facing our personal deaths, only more so because we are looking at the end of our kind. He borrows from a well-known map of how to work through five stages of grief – denial, anger, bargaining and depression – to a final acceptance. I have to note some reservations about schemes based on normative ideas about how we work through distress. People are very different – though many, it is true, are reassured by maps of this kind. I would also not want these suggestions to be misunderstood as an injunction to put on a mask of serenity when something else is going on in our body/mind. For me, the deeper acceptance is to recognise and accept our confusion and turbulence, if confusion and turbulence are what is happening. The spaciousness of deep acceptance then keeps company with them, avoiding both the false mask of serenity on the one hand, and immersed identification with our distress on the other. Nothing is denied.
I am not sure about the suggestion of ‘forgiving humanity’. If I take ‘humanity’ as simply the name of a species, I don’t feel that it’s my place either to forgive or withhold forgiveness from a species of which I am a member. If I take ‘Humanity’ as an idealised abstraction, or construct, then there’s no-one there to forgive outside my own imagination. For me, working as best as I can at deep acceptance and loving kindness, accepting with self-compassion that I will likely be wayward and inconsistent in my endeavours, is the better way to go. It keeps me in the world of lived interactions with other sentient beings and feels like a more engaged and grounded aspiration.
Despite some reservations, I value this work highly and recommend it to anyone concerned with the issues raised in it. We need voices like this, who move beyond deep adaptation to face into the possibility of no adaptation. Forgiving Humanity offers a distinctive lens on the crisis we are in, and it does so in a concise, readable and sadly persuasive way.
(1) Peter Russell Forgiving Humanity: How the Most Innovative Became the Most Dangerous Las Vegas, NV: Elf Rock Productions, 2023
NB Peter Russell studied mathematics and theoretical physics at the University of Cambridge but later changed to experimental psychology. After learning transcendental meditation (TM) with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi in India, he took up the first academic post ever offered in Britain on the psychology of meditation. He also has a postgraduate degree in computer science. In the 1970s he pioneered senior corporate management courses on meditation, creativity, stress management and sustainable development. Later he coined the term ‘global brain’ with the 1980’s best seller of that name in which he predicted the Internet and the impact it would have on humanity. I have reviewed a more recent book Letting Go of Nothing at:
Contemplative Inquiry 