It’s becoming clear that, here in America at least, we are suffering from some pretty severe psychological trauma as a society. Whether it’s all justified or not is a subject for some future post. But there’s no denying that we’re getting cranky and impatient and rude and intolerant and paranoid. We are not living our best lives. This heightened state of agitation is taking its toll.
I have a dear friend (Hi, Steve!) who likes to say that he can’t wait for the next Chicxulub. That’s the asteroid that struck the earth about 66 million years ago. To say that this asteroid packed a wallop is putting it mildly. It was moving at about 43,200 miles per hour, created winds near its impact site of 620 miles per hour, and left a crater that is 120 miles in diameter just off the coast of the Yucatan Peninsula. It’s generally believed that Chicxulub was responsible for the extinction of 75 percent of all the plant and animal life on earth at the time, including all the non-avian dinosaurs.
My friend is prone to hyperbole. That’s part of his charm. I think that longing for earth’s 6th mass extinction is a bit over the top, but I do understand the desire for a major reboot.
Unfortunately, we can’t unplug the earth and plug it back in again. We do appear to have its destruction down pat, but we can’t seem to agree on a game plan for its renaissance. (That’s a problem that is probably not helping our stress levels, either.)
Oblivion has its appeal. Unfortunately, if one has an addictive personality, seeking out such oblivion doesn’t end well. According to this report, alcohol related deaths are on an extreme rise, and it’s not surprising that there is a steady increase in drug overdoses as well, as is shown in this report.
I wish there were a way to have some sample-sized Oblivion. I wish we could pick and choose the things we want to wipe out of our shared experience. Out with the bad, in with the good. That would be heavenly.
I can hear the reactions to this idea now. “But Barb, surviving the bad times helps to make us who we are! It builds character! It makes us stronger!”
To that I respond, “Well, Dear Reader, that’s a sacrifice I’d be willing to make.”
I want to live in Brigadoon. After experiencing Dante’s Inferno, I think we all deserve a little Brigadoon. But there’s no point in speculating about this. There’s no way to bring it about without unpredictable results.
But since I’m fantasizing, I’ll tell you the method I would like to employ. Another dear friend (Hi Mor!) recently told me about Meng Po, the goddess of oblivion in Chinese mythology. I like her already.
Meng Po has a very important job. She creates a soup that she then feeds to souls who are awaiting reincarnation. This soup erases all memories of past lives, allowing the souls to start fresh in a new incarnation. The cycle is then able to begin again.
Like I said, though, I wouldn’t want total oblivion, just very specific oblivion. I would like to convince Meng Po that she doesn’t need to feed us each an entire bowl of soup. (“Wouldn’t it be a relief to have to produce a lot less soup, dear? And think of the reduction in dirty dishes!”) A soupçon of soup, perhaps just a teaspoonful, would do nicely. And then she could grab us by the shoulders, spin us back around, give us a gentle push, and let us carry on in the (new and improved) lives we already have. Chef’s kiss.
Until that happens, though, I will continue to take frequent naps, eat way too much ice cream and potato chips, studiously avoid the news, and hope for the best.
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