it is now generally agreed that between 15,000 and 18,000 years ago around 40 to 90 tremendous deluges of almost inconceivable force and dimension
it is now generally agreed that between 15,000 and 18,000 years ago around 40 to 90 tremendous deluges of almost inconceivable force and dimension swept across large parts of the columbia river drainage. swollen by the floodwaters, the columbia grew to contain 10 times the flow of all the rivers in the world today and 60 times the flow of the amazon river. nearly 16,000 square miles were inundated to depths of hundreds of feet, the greatest documented floods known to have occurred in north america.
cataclysms on the columbia, written by john eliot allen, marjorie burns & scott burns, is a relentlessly fascinating account of the missoula floods — and geologist j harlen bretz, whose ideas proposing large-scale flooding to explain the eastern washington landscape were widely ridiculed by colleagues (until proven correct decades later). these ice age floods, almost unfathomable in scope, radically altered the geology of the pacific northwest. cataclysms offers a thorough history of the floods themselves and also detailed descriptions of their effects across localized areas spanning four states (montana, idaho, washington, oregon). with plenty of explanatory photographs, maps, and charts, the book is essential for understanding the region's geologic history.
appendix c, comparing the energies of different catastrophes is mind-boggling: the combined energy of the missoula floods (as measured in both tnt equivalence and ergs) is nearly twice as much as the asteroid that extinguished life 66 million years ago!...more
the world is a prism, not a window. wherever we look, we find new refractions.
zoë schlanger's the light eaters is a relentlessly fascinating, ofte
the world is a prism, not a window. wherever we look, we find new refractions.
zoë schlanger's the light eaters is a relentlessly fascinating, often compelling probe into the very latest plant science. with contagious enthusiasm and open-minded curiosity, the atlantic staff writer reports on myriad botanical discoveries (many of which should fundamentally alter our consideration of and approach to plant life of all kinds). schlanger situates recent research against the larger background of ongoing scientific skepticism, anthropocentrism, and the linguistic limitations inherent in discussing other species. parts of the light eaters are absolutely riveting and the well-researched evidence schlanger presents for plant intelligence (and even plant consciousness) is quite impressive.
but what happens then? underlying all this is the deeper question, the one that matters most: what will we do with this new understanding? there are two directions to go in: we do nothing at all, and carry on as before, or we change our relationship with plants. at what point do plants enter the gates of our regard? when are they allowed in to the realm of our ethical consideration? is it when they have language? when they have family structures? when they make allies and enemies, have preferences, plan ahead? when we find they can remember? they seem, indeed, to have all these characteristics. it's now our choice whether we let that reality in. to let plants in.
and i have often noticed that even a few minutes of this self-forgetfulness is tremendously invigorating. i wonder if we do not waste most of our e
and i have often noticed that even a few minutes of this self-forgetfulness is tremendously invigorating. i wonder if we do not waste most of our energy just by spending every waking minute saying hello to ourselves.
a restless, yearning feat of observational prowess, annie dillard's pilgrim at tinker creek (a half-century young this year) is as magnificently thought-provoking as it is beautifully composed. with its "excited eloquence" and "metaphysical boldness," dillard's book — began when she was twenty-seven — swarms with intense curiosity and reverent care for the natural world. pilgrim at tinker creek treads softly but gazes intently, spilling from its pages enough wonder, awe, joy, self-reflection, humility, grace, gratitude, and piety to rouse or reawaken even the laziest and most lackluster.
a kind of northing is what i wish to accomplish, a single-minded trek towards that place where any shutter left open to the zenith at night will record the wheeling of all the sky's stars as a pattern of perfect, concentric circles. i seek a reduction, a shedding, a sloughing off.
rare to encounter a writer with such depth of feeling and thinking, let alone one possessed of so enchanting a style. perhaps most notable of all is dillard's patience, which she amply displays over and over again: espying creaturely habits in motionless enthrall, in search of truths arduously uncovered, or in reflective ecstasy of moments singular and sweeping. pilgrim at tinker creek is marvelous and, as with the very best of books, bestows upon its reader a sense of things far grander, far more exquisite than the mundanity of daily life otherwise reveals (or encourages).
the death of the self of which the great writers speak is no violent act. it is merely the joining of the great rock heart of the earth in its roll. it is merely the slow cessation of the will's sprints and the intellect's chatter: it is waiting like a hollow bell with stilled tongue. fuge, tace, quiesce. the waiting itself is the thing.
in the abyss, you don't glimpse the mystery—you enter it, and your consciousness is the only fixed point. subtract time and you're left with presence.
in the abyss, you don't glimpse the mystery—you enter it, and your consciousness is the only fixed point. subtract time and you're left with presence. in the deep, you lose your bearings and you find yourself.
it can be very tough to get through one of susan casey's books, as every page invariably leads to myriad google queries, wikipedia look-ups, and never-ending image searches. casey's latest, the underworld, is an altogether riveting exploration of the deep sea. traversing the globe across ten chapters, casey blends pop science, first-person reporting, and a contagious oceanic enthusiasm into an irresistibly fascinating look at our planet's underwater depths. from a cornucopia of otherworldly marine creatures, submersible trips into the hadal zone, and ever-present deep sea mining threats, the underworld is an engrossing journey into our planet's subaqueous secrets....more
an intriguing look into the science of climate change biology, thor hanson's hurricane lizards and plastic squid chronicles imperiled species and the an intriguing look into the science of climate change biology, thor hanson's hurricane lizards and plastic squid chronicles imperiled species and the fascinating ways they are adapting (or not) to rapidly evolving conditions. hanson blends scientific reporting and first-hand accounts to offer several examples of fauna and flora fighting for their very lives. rather than another bleak, distressing look into anthropogenic climate change itself, hurricane lizards and plastic squid instead focuses on the myriad ways some specific plants and animals are acclimating and adjusting to the new and shifting realities of our warming, changing world.
the speed of climate change is a large part of what makes it a crisis. but for scientists, farmers, birdwatchers, gardeners, backyard naturalists, and anyone with an interest in nature, it also creates an opportunity. never before have people been in a position to witness such a radical biological event, and if the early results are any indication, it has a great deal to teach us. because just as the planet is changing faster than anyone expected, so too are the plants and animals that call it home.
and yet everywhere i have looked, everywhere i have been—places bent and broken, despoiled and desolate, polluted and poisoned—i have found new lif
and yet everywhere i have looked, everywhere i have been—places bent and broken, despoiled and desolate, polluted and poisoned—i have found new life springing from the wreckage of the old, life all the stranger and more valuable for its resilience.
relentlessly intriguing and gorgeously written, cal flyn's islands of abandonment is a travelogical exploration of the subtitular "nature rebounding in the post-human landscape." the scottish writer leads us to a dozen locations across four continents, each forsaken and deserted by humans following "nuclear meltdown, toxic contamination, stalemate warfare, political and social collapse." reflecting on her visits in language poetic and philosophical, flyn's accounts of these left-behind locales are vividly portrayed and often breathtaking to behold. in each place, flyn finds nature regenerating, reorganizing, and resurging itself absent the presence of human beings (and their heretofore incurable hubris).
this is a corrupted world, yes—one long fallen from a state of grace—but it is a world too that knows how to live. it has a great capacity for repair, for recovery, for forgiveness—of a sort—if we can only learn to let it do so.
*hopefully the paperback edition corrects the glaringly blunderous mislocation of mount st helens (she's a washingtonian, not an oregonian)...more
previously published as a chapter in her 2010 book birdology, sy montgomery's the hummingbirds' gift is a slender work focusing, mostly, on the rehabipreviously published as a chapter in her 2010 book birdology, sy montgomery's the hummingbirds' gift is a slender work focusing, mostly, on the rehabilitation of a pair of very young hummingbirds. there's a little too much cutesy anthropomorphizing, but montgomery's awe of the little resplendent marvels is endearing nonetheless. for longer-form (and more thorough) writing about hummingbirds, be sure to check out fastest things on wings: rescuing hummingbirds in hollywood and/or the glitter in the green: in search of hummingbirds....more
mary roach's writing is always fun to read: engaging and thought-provoking with ample wit and sardonic humor. her new book, fuzz: when nature breaks tmary roach's writing is always fun to read: engaging and thought-provoking with ample wit and sardonic humor. her new book, fuzz: when nature breaks the law, is an expedition into the domain of human/animal interaction and conflict, or, more specifically, the ways in which the animal kingdom causes humans inconvenience, annoyance, disruption, hindrance, nuisance, hardship, and/or financial loss (if the animal world had their own authorial analogue, a book about human avarice, destruction, superiority, stupidity, and disregard for non-human species would make for a convincing and overdue counternarrative). fuzz is more of roach doing what she does best, entertainingly expounding on a chosen subject with her trademark mix of pop science, immersive reporting, and irrepressible personality.
we are irrational in our species-specific devotions. i know a man who won't eat octupus because of its intelligence. yet he eats pork and buys glue traps for rats, though rats and pigs are highly intelligent, likely more intelligent—i'm guessing, for i have not seen the sat scores—than octopuses. why, for that matter, is intelligence the scale by which we decide whom to spare? or size? have the simple and the small less right to live?
while there is no shortage of books about climate change, ecosystemic catastrophe, global upheava
in other words: all subsumed in a deafening buzz.
while there is no shortage of books about climate change, ecosystemic catastrophe, global upheaval, or accelerating extinction rates, far too few (at least for english-language readers) offer perspectives from outside the anglo world. andri snær magnason's on time and water (um tímann og vatnið), while still addressing such subjects, is written in a vein all its own. the icelandic author (and former presidential candidate)'s new book contains a voice so unlike its stateside brethren. with an engaging (and seamless) blend of science, autobiography, travelogue, nature writing, history, and mythology, magnason's approach is less polemical and more philosophical, poetic, and pondering. on time and water, perhaps because of magnason's lifelong contemplation of glaciers, eyes the long game and, in doing so, offer a much more reflective treatise on climate change than more reactionary works. also, the portions with the dalai lama are simply superb. on time and water may well be one of the best (certainly best written) books in the climate change canon.
we are so hypnotized by progress and revolutions that our relationship with the future is characterized by irresponsibility. for us, a hundred years is like a whole eternity, a thing beyond imagination. one hundred years seems such a long time that we don't react when a scientist shows us that if things keep going at this rate, substantial disasters will have occurred by 2100. we shrug our shoulders, as if that doesn't concern us.
*translated from the icelandic by lytton smith (gnarr, pálsdóttir, ólafsson, et al.)...more
i can't tell if my blood is in the trees or if the trees are in my blood.
melding science and memoir, suzanne simard's finding the mother tree reco
i can't tell if my blood is in the trees or if the trees are in my blood.
melding science and memoir, suzanne simard's finding the mother tree recounts her remarkable research into mycorrhizal networks, hub trees, and interspecies cooperation and reciprocity. simard, a professor and forest ecologist (and inspiration for the dendrologist character in richard powers' pulitzer prize-winning novel, the overstory), expounds upon the details and discoveries of her decades-long arboreal explorations, chronicling it alongside her own personal story full of challenge and triumph.
the science of fungal networks, symbiotic communication, and interconnected habitats is wholly fascinating and simard is an excellent educator. ancient and indigenous communities, while lacking the supportive science, seemed to better understand (or, at the least, better observe, intuit, and respect) the interdependencies of species and healthy ecosystems (which the author herself acknowledges), so the important work of people like simard will hopefully help encourage a greater recognition of the significance of ecological balance (or whatever balance can even be restored in our anthropocene).
finding the mother tree, beyond its compelling scientific and autobiographical accounts, is also somewhat of an indictment of the status quo, given how hard it was for simard and her work to be taken seriously in a hierarchical field hampered by governmental bureaucracy and industrial greed (and, of course, misogyny).
if the mycorrhizal network is a facsimile of a neural network, the molecules moving among trees could be as sharp as the electrochemical impulses between neurons, the brain chemistry that allows us to think and communicate. is it possible that the trees are as perceptive of their neighbors as we are of our own thoughts and moods? even more, are the social interactions between trees as influential on their shared reality as that of two people engaged in conversation? can trees discern as quickly as we can? can they continuously gauge, adjust, and regulate based on their signals and interactions, just as we do?
an altogether entrancing look at earth's most singularly captivating creatures, jon dunn's the glitter in the green: in search of hummingbirds is as can altogether entrancing look at earth's most singularly captivating creatures, jon dunn's the glitter in the green: in search of hummingbirds is as charming as its magnificent subject. the shetland-based nature writer/photographer traversed the americas from north to south, beginning in alaska and concluding in tierra del fuego, questing after often elusive members of the trochilidae family (consisting of over 300 species). part travel writing, part adventure tale, part historical account, part anthropocenic reckoning, part ornithological investigation, and part unabashed love letter, the glitter in the green is as exhilarating as it is educational — and an absolute must-read for anyone who's ever been caught in the enchanting thrall of these iridescent wonders (whether for but a fleeting moment or for an entire lifetime).
no other family of birds could come close to them—their other-wordly, metallic, and jewel-like plumage was without compare, and they came in a bewildering rainbow array of colours, shapes, and sizes. beneath those psychedelic feathers were a host of adaptations to a nectar-fuelled, hovering life that i found irresistible.
in her first book since the pulitzer prize-winning the sixth extinction: an unnatural history, elizabeth kolbert delves once more into our anthropocenin her first book since the pulitzer prize-winning the sixth extinction: an unnatural history, elizabeth kolbert delves once more into our anthropocenic epoch. under a white sky: the nature of the future finds the new yorker staff writer moving beyond a chronicling of the myriad calamities ahead and instead focusing on mitigation attempts, large and small, currently underway and/or under consideration. the underlying (if largely unspoken) question posed by kolbert's new book (so named for the blue-less skies that would likely result from widespread solar geoengineering) is that if human-induced climate change, habitat loss, biodiversity crashes, the proliferative destruction of invasive species, etc. were wrought by our own collective hand, what makes us think any attempt at benevolent meddling would actually work out the way we intended or even hoped it might? [spoiler: hubris springs eternal]
kolbert offers sobering, but fascinating looks into asian carp, the louisiana delta, pupfish, coral reefs, cane toads, crispr & gene-editing, and negative-emissions technologies to exemplify and explore the situations of and our responses to some very dire environmental consequences. kolbert's writing is always incisive, illuminating, and beautifully composed, often with traces of wit and humor to lighten an otherwise altogether distressing subject.
kolbert foregoes an alarmist bent, presumably because she trusts her readers to infer the urgency of her work. curiously, she doesn't explicitly situate her most recent reporting within an overarching or unifying context, which would almost certainly have benefitted both the narrative and readers unfamiliar with such subjects (sections of the book appeared previously in the new yorker, but it's lacking a thematic summation or intro/outro of some kind). nonetheless, kolbert's writing remains ever timely and engrossing, and under a white sky is another work of grave import.
the choice is not between what was and what is but between what is and what will be, which, often enough, is nothing.
zach st. george's the journeys of trees is, indeed, just as the subtitle describes, a story about forests, people, and the future. in his fascinating zach st. george's the journeys of trees is, indeed, just as the subtitle describes, a story about forests, people, and the future. in his fascinating book, the science reporter takes us around the country (and even overseas) to learn about an array of once-steadfast sylvan giants and the existential threats they face from the ravages of invasive pests and climate change alike. balancing wonder and concern, st. george focuses on five different species, as well as the people striving to ensure their place in whatever future lies in wait. part pop-science inquiry and part travel writing narrative, the journeys of tress is consistently intriguing and well-written, with surprising flashes of humor.
planting a tree, then, is a symbolic act. a tree might outlive the person who planted it by centuries or millennia, providing shade or beauty or raw materials to generations unborn. hydroseed your yard and nobody will thank you. but plant a tree, and you have extended a hand to the future.
we have become a depressingly aged and unfulfilled civilization, as civilizations go. time has caught up with us. where once we were full of promis
we have become a depressingly aged and unfulfilled civilization, as civilizations go. time has caught up with us. where once we were full of promise and lust for life, we are now sticking to the known and the comfortable. in financial terms, we're living on interest rather than producing. in agricultural terms, we're eating the seed corn. in ecological terms, we're parasitic.
john rember's a hundred little pieces on the end of the world isn't exactly an uplifting book, but, as the great ed abbey once wrote, "better a cruel truth than a comfortable delusion." the book collects ten essays (each split into ten parts themselves, hence a hundred), all of them alighting on civilization's ongoing (and ever accelerating) woes: climate change, overpopulation, fossil fuel dependence, the sixth extinction, consumerism, capitalism, impending social collapse.
that's the trouble with narcissism: start seeing the world as an extension of yourself, and the world becomes fragile, temporary, wounded by your wounds, and ended by your physical or philosophical death.
rember's approach to our collective moment is a curious one. while he believes "we've got ten more years of history before we run out" (give or take) and foresees a massive human die-off (among other eventual horrors), his attitude is one of frustrated resignation, acceptance, and sadness. while many might mistakenly read this book and conclude it a panoply of pessimism, it is instead a work of pragmatism, realism, and unwillingness/inability to indulge bullshit fantasies of magical thinking and techno-salvation.
look at greenhouse-gas concentrations and ice-cap volume loss and accelerating concentrations of wealth and you'll find that it's time to call in grief counselors. you'll see points at which the trajectories of these and many more tragic trends could have been altered toward living rather than dying, toward sustainability rather than exponential growth. that those points were ignored speaks of a great and perverse intelligence behind the decision to die.
throughout a hundred little pieces on the end of the world, rember demonstrates not only a mordant wit and dark sense of humor, but an all-too-rare ability to see things as they are, rather than how he might prefer they'd be. rember reckons with ethics and morality, all the while bearing witness to what's in front of each and every one of us. he offers neither platitudes, nor promises of a quick fix (or even a slow one, for that matter). he foregoes any attempts to let human beings off the hook for what we've wrought as a species and doesn't suggest any self-congratulatory pats on the back for recycling or the like.
after all, [americans are] a people who have already chosen to forget vast chunks of their experience, especially when that experience suggests they've lost several wars in a row, that their lives require constant and expensive medication, and that they have hocked their grandchildren for oil.
rember strikes a reader as a genuine and empathetic being, however, albeit one unable to sugarcoat what awaits humanity in the near future. a hundred little pieces on the end of the world is thought-provoking, reflective, and forthright. you might not like the message, but the messenger did his due diligence with more compassion and insight and humor than might have been expected.
it's more important to remain a careful and conscious witness to the good things that humans still embody. those are love, kindness, empathy, and caring. they don't seem to work well at the scale of billions of people. they work better if you can exercise them when folks are over for dinner.
a hundred little pieces on the end of the world is that freak book that actually lives up to its descriptive copy: "a collection of gentle-spirited wisdom and a rumination on ruin, as if distilled in equal measure from the spirits of norman maclean's a river runs through it and cormac mccarthy's the road."
it's hard to convince americans to face a world where they're vulnerable and mortal and powerless in the face of events, when they can easily be someone else, someplace else.
i smell the wound and it smells like me. this wound will not heal and is spreading as an infection. stabbed by our illusions and legacies of grande
i smell the wound and it smells like me. this wound will not heal and is spreading as an infection. stabbed by our illusions and legacies of grandeur, we stagger through our forests of consumption. we are lost. we are in pain. and we don't know the cause or the cure of what is making us sick. we long for something more, when what we have is more than enough. we are becoming blind. we are becoming deaf. we are hobbling along the path of distractions, trying to find our way back or forward or sideways to a place of dreams as we bleed from the wound of longing.
activist, nature writer, and conservationist, terry tempest williams is also an american treasure. in her new book, erosion: essays of undoing, williams confronts dualities political, personal, and paradoxical. with erosion (in all its many forms) as a foundational theme, williams explores and expounds upon a variety of timely issues, many tied to the ongoing destruction of our natural world and the institutional greed and indifference that allows causes it to accelerate virtually unabated.
wilderness ensures possibilities. saving wilderness is about saving ourselves, as well as protecting the evolutionary integrity of all other life forms on the planet. an open hand and a clenched fist will be required, along with a generous heart that dares to feel enough to grieve and lament what we are watching disappear and try to slow down the destruction we have set in motion.
there are many qualities to williams's writing that make it so exceptionally evocative. her ability to distill a subject to its irreducible essence is remarkable, but perhaps what is most noteworthy is her natural gift for observation and interpretation. balancing empathy and outrage, anger and forgiveness, beauty and loss, hope and despair, thinking and feeling, knowledge and action, williams harmonizes the disparate. grace and grief and wisdom and weariness inhabit each of these essays (collected from the last seven years). there is a deep joy and a deep sorrow in her work, but williams seems to conjure vulnerability with ease, and the breadth of her passion is quite often something to behold. terry tempest williams is simply a magnificent writer and erosion is simultaneously a salvo and salve for our disquieting anthropocenic age.
not until we begin to understand the true costs of what we have lost and the pain we have inflicted on people and nature through the destruction of fragile landscapes and communities in the commodification and extraction of the earth, can a healing between us take place. our collective crisis of conscience and consciousness in this ear of climate change is based on self-delusion, privilege, and our sense of entitlement, all of which continue to fuel the power and rapaciousness of our appetites. it is killing us.
one of the most compelling, vivid, thought-provoking, magnificent, and richly composed non-fiction books i've read in some time, robert macfarlane's uone of the most compelling, vivid, thought-provoking, magnificent, and richly composed non-fiction books i've read in some time, robert macfarlane's underland: a deep time journey traverses the european continent, exploring subterranean locales both natural and man-made (and, er, man-caused). with his poetic command of language, keen observational gifts, and worldly perspective, macfarlane's writing is frequently breathtaking.
seamlessly blending scientific inquiry, nature writing, travelogue, adventure tale, reportage, history, and requiem for our anthropocenic age, underland delves deeply — both literally and figuratively. macfarlane's new book is a remarkable exploration of natural wonder at some of the earth's most inaccessible and outlying (underlying!) places. macfarlane's enthusiasm and awe are contagious, as is his evident sorrow for what our species has collectively wrought and brought to bear on ecosystems near and far. perceptive, reflective, and educative, underland is unequivocally one of the year's must-read books; a masterful, exceptional work.
we should resist inertial thinking; indeed, we should urge its opposite — deep time as a radical perspective, provoking us to action not apathy. for to think in deep time can be a means not of escaping our troubled present, but rather of re-imagining it; countermanding its quick greeds and furies with older, slower stories of making and unmaking. at its best, a deep time awareness might help us see ourselves as part of a web of gift, inheritance and legacy stretching over millions of years past and millions to come, bringing us to consider what we are leaving behind for the epochs and beings that will follow us.
when viewed in deep time, things come alive that seemed inert. new responsibilities declare themselves. a conviviality of being leaps to mind and eye. the world becomes eerily various and vibrant again. ice breathes. rock has tides. mountains ebb and flow. stone pulses. we live on a restless earth.
if greed warps your life, you assume it must warp everyone's.
if bill mckibben's prescient warnings had been heeded some thirty years ago, perhaps
if greed warps your life, you assume it must warp everyone's.
if bill mckibben's prescient warnings had been heeded some thirty years ago, perhaps his new book wouldn't be so urgent and grievous. presuming the question asked in falter's subtitle isn't a rhetorical one, has the human game begun to play itself out?, a preponderance of the evidence seems to offer a resounding, unequivocal 'yes' in reply. the 350.0rg founder's writing remains incisive and engaging, but falter isn't likely to find many readers among the audience for whom it would be most necessary.
broadening the scope of existential threats beyond climate change, mckibben also considers the increasing dangers of gene editing/germline engineering and artificial intelligence. in all, falter is a deeply unsettling book and mckibben doesn't mince words when writing about the very real possibility that it's too late for our species to make the changes necessary to ensure our survival. that is not to say, however, that he is without hope, for the whole last part of the book is titled "an outside chance."
falter is fascinating, falter is frightening, but, perhaps most importantly, it's unflinching in its observations of the present human moment — and the growing likelihood of a dark future waiting ahead.
the extra heat that we trap near the planet because of the carbon dioxide we've spewed is equivalent to the heat from 400,000 hiroshima-size bombs ever day, or four each second.
this is precisely where psychedelic therapy seems to be operating: on a frontier between spirituality and science that is as provocative as it is u
this is precisely where psychedelic therapy seems to be operating: on a frontier between spirituality and science that is as provocative as it is uncomfortable.
michael pollan is one of those authors who can, with ample research, elucidatory prowess, and a captivating writing style, make nearly any subject wholly fascinating and engaging. so it is with his new book, how to change your mind, wherein he explores the intriguing background of psychedelics (mostly lsd and psilocybin) and the great promise they show in treating a host of medical and psychological maladies.
if the experience of transcendence is mediated by molecules that flow through both our brains and the natural world of plants and fungi, then perhaps nature is not as mute as science has told us, and "spirit," however defined, exists out there—is immanent in nature, in other words, just as countless premodern cultures have believed. what to my (spiritually impoverished) mind seemed to constitute a good case for disenchantment of the world becomes in the minds of the more psychedelically experienced irrefutable proof of its fundamental enchantment. flesh of the gods, indeed.
as in many of his books, pollan immerses himself first-hand within his chosen subject (in this case, ingesting the very substances he writes about). after a lengthy history on the origins of psychedelics, their recreational and therapeutic uses, and mid-century studies into their efficacy, how to change your mind also delves into the neuroscience of how these drugs work on and affect our brains. perhaps the most compelling chapter is "travelogue: journeying underground," which recounts pollan's own psychedelic experimentation, as his insights, musings, and philosophical ponderings provide considerable food for thought (as he's forced to confront his own fears, hesitations, beliefs, and ego).
so perhaps spiritual experience is simply what happens in the space that opens up in the mind when "all mean egotism vanishes." wonders (and terrors) we're ordinarily defended against flow into our awareness; the far end of the sensory spectrum, which are normally invisible to us, our senses can suddenly admit. while the ego sleeps, the mind plays, proposing unexpected patterns of thought and new rays of relation. the gulf between self and world, that no-man's-land which in ordinary hours the ego so vigilantly patrols, closes down, allowing us to feel less separate and more connected, "part and particle" of some larger entity.
given pollan's reputation and popularity, how to change your mind will likely engender a much larger national conversation about psychedelics and their place in treating addiction, ptsd, depression, as well as in palliative care for end-of-life patients. psychedelics have had, in this country, a history fraught with political posturing, fear-mongering, and general apprehension, yet, as pollan makes abundantly clear in his book, the attitude towards these remarkable substances is softening (as more studies show their unparalleled promise), with a sea change perhaps just on the horizon. how to change your mind is an important, timely book, and pollan deftly charts the forefront of modern psychedelic research.
it's hard to believe over 20 years have passed since carl sagan shuffled off this mortal coil. his legacy is incomparable, of course, having inspired it's hard to believe over 20 years have passed since carl sagan shuffled off this mortal coil. his legacy is incomparable, of course, having inspired generations of astronomers, planetary scientists, cosmologists, and laypeople alike. pale blue dot offers a stirring glimpse into several possible futures for our species (and the ultimate necessity of moving on from earth). sagan was a genius gifted with both brain and heart – a true humanitarian and visionary. come for the science and sublimity, stay for the spectacular prose.
sailors on a becalmed sea, we sense the stirring of a breeze.
*
we, who cannot even put our own planetary home in order, riven with rivalries and hatreds, despoiling our environment, murdering one another through irritation and inattention as well as on deadly purpose, and moreover a species that until only recently was convinced that the universe was made for its sole benefit—are we to venture out into space, move worlds, re-engineer planets, spread go neighboring star systems?
*
a principle of mediocrity seems to apply to all our circumstances. we could not have known beforehand that the evidence would be, so repeatedly and thoroughly, incompatible with the proposition that human beings are at center stage in the universe. but most of the debates have now been settled decisively in favor of a position that, however painful, can be encapsulated in a single sentence: we have not been given the lead in the cosmic drama. perhaps someone else has. perhaps no one else has. in either case, we have good reason for humility.
*
it almost never feels like prejudice. instead, it seems fitting and just—the idea that, because of an accident of birth, our group (whichever one it is) should have a central position in the social universe. among pharaonic princelings and plantagenet pretenders, children of robber barons and central committee bureaucrats, street gangs and conquerors of nations, members of confident majorities, obscure sects, and reviled minorities, this self-serving attitude seems as natural as breathing. it draws sustenance from the same psychic wellsprings as sexism, racism, nationalism, and the other deadly chauvinisms that plague our species. uncommon strength of character is needed to resist the blandishments of those who assure us that we have an obvious, even god-given, superiority over our fellows. the more precarious our self-esteem, the greater our vulnerability to such appeals.
*
but for us, it's different. look again at that dot. that's here. that's home. that's us. on it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. the aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there—on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam. the earth is a very small stage in a cast cosmic arena. think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. in our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. the earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. there is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. visit, yes. settle, not yet. like it or not, for the moment the earth is where we make our stand. it has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. there is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. to me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.
erling kagge, norwegian author, publisher, and adventurer, was the first human being to reach each of the planet's three poles (north, south, and the erling kagge, norwegian author, publisher, and adventurer, was the first human being to reach each of the planet's three poles (north, south, and the summit of everest). silence: in the age of noise (stillhet i støyens tid: gleden ved å stenge verden ute) is a meditative, essayistic account of silence in the modern world. after pondering the questions of what is silence?, where is it?, and why is it more important now than ever?, kagge set out to answer them with thirty-three slim vignettes.
incorporating personal experiences, philosophy, and the arts, kagge contrasts our hyper-frantic age with the increasing importance of silence in our personal lives. a thoughtful, contemplative work, silence offers an introspective and extrapolative examination, however cursory, on the ethereal essence of silence. as much a poetical account as a memoir-istic foray, kagge's book provides considerable food for thought. in an era when we're bombarded by near-constant noise (in so many different forms), both silence and silence itself provide for a quiet repose from the unceasing cacophonous din.
to speak is precisely what the silence should do. it should speak, and you should talk with it, in order to harness the potential that is present. 'perhaps it's because silence goes together with wonder, but it also has a kind of majesty to it, yes, like an ocean, or like an endless snow expanse,' he said. 'and whoever does not stand in wonder at this majesty fears it. and that is most likely why many are afraid of silence (and why there is music everywhere, everywhere).'
i recognize the fear that [norwegian author and playwright jon] fosse describes. a vague angst about something i can't quite put my finger on. something which causes me all too easily to avoid being present in my own life. instead, i busy myself with this or that, avoiding the silence, living through the new task at hand. i send text messages, put on some music, listen to the radio or allow my thoughts to flit about, rather than holding still and shutting out the world for a single moment.
i think the fear that fosse expresses is a fear of getting to know ourselves better. there is a whiff of cowardice whenever i try to avoid that.
*translated from the norwegian by becky l. crook (brit bildøen, kjersti annesdatter skomsvold, kristin roskifte), co-founder and former editor-in-chief of sand (berlin's english literary journal)
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