Lev Lafayette's journal

Various religions have a notion of "a calling" ("vocation", vocātiō, "to call"). It is particularly important in the Christian tradition, especially for those who are likely to take up a religious career, although I find the often hide-bound doctrines far more dissuasive than encouraging. More attractive is a number of modern expressions of some members of The Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) who emphasise, in the natural rather than the supernatural, or the modern approach of Engaged Buddhism which emphasises participation in the social world for justice, rather than escapism. But my religion, after much internal wrangling for many years, is pantheism. For me, the word "God" and "Nature" are synonymous; impersonal, immanent, and deserving of reverence, and matches experientially with my borderline hyperphantasia. When I step outside, I am standing on sacred ground. Which is why, to return temporarily to the prosaic, under the current restricted movements of COVID-19, I've been taking every opportunity to walk around the local forest that borders The Asylum (I prefer the European "forest" to the Australian term "bush"), which includes a massive colony of flying foxes. A recent trip also resulted in the discovery of a set of old couches, cleverly hidden from the main paths, with a magnificent view over to the city, along with plenty of evidence of nitrous oxide use. "Have fun kids and be safe", is all I can say. To also aid my travels and to continue with the current health-kick, I have purchased a cheap touring bike and have made some good use of it already.

But to return to the bigger issue. It is not as if I do not celebrate the extraordinary human achievements in art, science, and technology. I mean, I work in supercomputing for goodness sake, and hopefully some of the work in that field will get us past this rotten pandemic. But science and technology is an amoral tool, not a conscious actor, and whilst it amplifies moral decisions as it advances those amplifications become greater. In my more pessimistic days I wonder whether there is an inevitability of the human species destroying itself, along with other life, because it hasn't sufficiently protected itself against either pathological systems or pathological leaders: In the end, the machines will win. Thus, quite often I feel the need to step back into natural environs, where things are at a natural pace, so to speak. And of course, as I immerse myself in such an environment I am reminded this is what the entire city looked like before colonisation. For what it's worth, the grounding has provided me the opportunity to even more deeply reflect on my current state of "driven dysthymia", which is an interesting situation. I can feel deeply morose about my personal life and deeply pessimistic about our global future, yet at the same time fighting back with every ounce of my being. Pushing through this, I feel that I am on the verge of very significant and insightful changes in my life. But I need a few more days yet to bring my mind into order.