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Good, bad and the thinking that makes it so

Looks can be deceiving. So can words. Reality itself can be deceiving. Distinguishing deception from truth begins with accepting it is there.

Let’s begin with a funny story behind this photo, one that provides a nice little introduction to more reflections that came from my little Indian adventures.

This photo is the after-effects of a cockroach in my bathroom, a roach I tried to kill. As karma would have it I lost a bottle of my favourite red nail polish in the process, and I still didn’t get the roach.

Then an image flashed before my eyes: I remembered seeing a lady was making my bed in Nepal come across a massive spider in the sheets (that must have been sitting in a store room for far too long, but that’s beside the point). Instead of screaming and squashing it with a boot, like I usually do, she scooped up the eight-legged freak with both her hands and took it out to the garden and let it go…

I looked back at the roach – maybe he didn’t have to die.

“You are an insect, and I, a human,” I told him, “I don’t need to be scared of you. Here boy, come on, come with me…” I willed it calmly, picking up the tube of moisturiser it was hiding behind in my cupboard. He clung to it, like a child being saved from drowning by a life-saver ring. When I got him to the window he flew away.

Only this blood-like stain on my wall remained, as if to signify what could have happened and what was avoided. Things aren’t always as they seem, and when a situation is viewed from a different set of eyes, that sees through the constructs of a different set of language, education and experience, a picture can tell a completely different story. Its the thinking which makes it so.


The greatest irony of all my reflections on global poverty has been the realisation that many of the “poor” Indian women perceive ME as the poor one.

“No husband? No children? It’s okay, one day,” they said with sympathetic eyes. Little do they know that my parents have divorced – that’s the biggest no no in the book, something that (if I were an Indian woman) would prevent any Indian man from ever wanting to marry me. All the things they value I lack. When you look at the world through their eyes, and evaluate the haves and have-nots according to their values, you have to ask: who’s the one living in “poverty” now?

As you could probably tell in my last few posts, in my current state of mind, my care for the “poor” people is presently being replaced with a new appreciation for Western culture, individualism, freedom, and even a new appreciation for what I previously perceived to be the “big bad global capitalist system”. The world situation is far more complex than I realised and, in comparison to the caste system, life in the capitalist system simply ain’t that bad. At least not for me. As capitalists we admittedly are currently using the global situation to our advantage, but I’m no longer convinced we are creating it.

Inequality is so widespread, can anything actually be done to make it more equal? Whenever people set out to do good, it ends up turning into new ideologies and creating new cycles of violence… I’m starting to wonder, is there’s any point in trying? And, more importantly, I wonder if I even have a right to try to make what I perceive to be “positive” changes? What if the changes aren’t seen as positive in the mind of the receiver of my goodwill?

One thing that for sure India has taught me is how little I know, and, how conditioned my own mind is to my worldview and my way of life. Everything I think, say, write, and do, is limited by my language, shaped by my education, and inseparable from my life experiences. And then, make things even more complicated, my worldview is constantly changing.

Every person’s worldview is constantly changing. It makes sense consider the world is constantly in a state of change. Our centric view of life sometimes makes us think that our personal worldview is the only worldview, but it’s not. I have to remind myself that my constantly changing worldview is but one in 7-billion constantly changing views. I have agency over nothing more than my own values and perspectives, and the changes that take place inside me. I can share what I learn but outside that it is each to their own.

Back on Planet Paradise – where horns don’t beep, where teeth are brushed with tap water, and where you walk down the street without a thousand pairs of gawking eyes staring you down – it has been almost surreal to sit in my quiet little apartment and read my diary entries from the last five weeks.

It’s hard to imagine such a polar-opposite culture is in full swing just a 14-hour flight away.Just imagine what my life would be like had I been born in India! For a start, at almost 28-years old, I would probably have been married for half my life and seemingly content with whatever husband my family chose for me. I would probably have a few children by now, and be working in whatever job had been delegated to me, most likely following in my mother’s footsteps. Instead I am happily unmarried, childless, free – free to explore my passions, free to travel, free to spend time with who I want, when I want, to learn, grow, discover – and excited to contemplate the endless possibilities the future may hold.

It is hard for a person who believes making and managing a big family is the most important thing in the world to comprehend why a 27- year-old would choose not to. Why would someone want to travel and study and do the things they are passionate about rather than dedicating their life to populating this planet with more people? Everything is relative to one’s own definition of identity and values. As Shakespeare said, “There’s nothing either good nor bad – but thinking makes it so.”

We have no way to conceive what is outside our worldview. We are entirely limited by the constructs we program into our human minds. The perceived value of one’s life is embedded in our understanding of what is worthy and what isn’t, and of our own status relative to others. We cannot know what we do not know we don’t know. No one who has not tasted the smooth orgasmic goodness of Lindts dark chilli chocolate, will never crave it.

Does this bring us to post-modern nihilism? Is everything relative and nothing absolute? Is it impossible to define good and bad? I still like the Shantaram definition: good is what supports the increasing complexity of the universe, while bad/evil is anything that stands in the way of it. Or, how it translates more simply in my own mind: good is that which creates, and bad is that which destroys. The most interesting thing about this dynamic is that: one CANNOT exist without the other. In order to create, we must be able to destroy.

The universe is expanding, and one day, if something always existed, it seems logical to assume that one day it will contract.

I think it was Neil Diamond Walsh in Conversations with God who equated this process to “God” breathing out in the expansion stage, and then breathing in again in the contraction. Who are we to stand back and judge one a breath out as better than the breath in? Maybe we should just observe it, enjoy it for what it is and be happy we are a part of it.

Back to the worldviews of these Indian women and me: I think they’re poor, and they think I’m poor, so what can one do? Should I try to help them, and should they try to help me? What good would that do when we speak such different languages (I’m not referring to the Hindi/English barriers)??? Worldview conflicts are tough, but there’s no real violence that is resulting from this particular one – it’s just different groups of people valuing different things and living in different ways.

Who is one to think they are right and that they have a responsibility to make the other see the world in their way? I guess there are ways we in which can learn from each others drastically different cultures, but ultimately it seems to me that this the best solution comes back to the simple affirmation that Deepak Choprah comforted me with through my headset as I traveled up the dangerous mountainside toward my Ayurveda Retreat in Coonoor: ACCEPT THE WORLD, JUST AS IT IS.

Disasters and Delhi

I say another little prayer from my prime position laying down in the back seat with my eyes closed. It is raining and the same crazy driver who overtook on blind corners on the cliff side on the way up was to drive me back down. The special requests for a safe rather than speedy journey were finally listened to and the driver was easy on me.

At the airport my reward: coookiiiiies!!! Australian cookies!

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Two cookies and a small cup of chai tea – 25 rupees (about 50 cents). Yes please! An hour later I am on the plane. Out the window I looked down at earth’s surface. Coimbatore is a small city by Indian standards yet the buildings, cars and smog cover every inch of its surface for as far as my eyes can see. It is ugly.

Humanity has hit puberty and is causing a horrible case of acne to break out on our poor earth’s skin. Our sun may be half way through its life but the lifespan of our earth has only just begun. From an innocent childhood where lifeforms lived at one with it, humanity has (particularly in the last 200-years) propelled it into adolescence. Our hormones are going wild, we are rejecting our parent’s wisdom, and using and abusing all we have been provided. From our egocentric position we put ourselves on a pedestal, expecting our universe to revolve around the big important “I”. Our egos are out of control.

Adolescence doesn’t last forever, but the consequences of these abusive years can have long-lasting effects on our minds and bodies. What does the future hold for humanity? Will we grow out of it and make it to earth in it’s twenties? I look out the window again as we land in yet another over-populated Indian city, and I wonder if we do make it through adolescence, will our acne clear up? What will earth’s new skin look like? I doubt it will return to the smooth baby skin of green forests but if we stop abusing our body, if we find ways to live without polluting it, might we use our collective conscious to revitalize our ecosystem like the Ayurveda retreat revitalized me? Can earth and humanity live in a state of connected mind, body and soul? How might humanity, as we move into adulthood, minimize the harm these days of innocent arrogance might cause?

With my mind in la-la philosophy land I step out onto the streets of Delhi. I have organised a friend’s driver-friend’s friend to pick me up, show me Delhi and drive me to Agra to see the Taj Mahal for 4000Rs (around $80). When a large older man in a blue uniform picks me up I think there’s been a mistake. He takes my bags. I farewell a new British friend from the plane, wish him luck figuring out where he’s going (he’s lost his phone) and get in the tiny dirty-white car.

“Can we go to the international airport please? I want to leave my bags there,” I request. Somehow I get talked into leaving them in this car so we can first do some siteseeing and that Mohan, my friend’s actual driver-friend, can take me from Agra to Jaipur and back to Delhi so to save me taking trains.

“You can see many things on the way – monkey temple and…” This option had it’s appeal of comfort and lack of hassle but I wasn’t sure. Travelling by train is the India thing…

“The only thing I really want to do in Delhi is see the museum at the place where Gandhi was shot,” I request.

“Ok, but first this monument and that monument and…” said the driver, rattling off a list of places he would take me to.

I reluctantly agree and pray he will still be in the car park with my bags when I return.

At the first random monument I find myself attacked by papparazi and fans – people wanting photos of and with the blonde white girl. I have more photos taken with children, adults and couples in this place than I did in two-years in japan. And that’s saying a lot.

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I escape as fast as I can. Lucky my driver and bags are still there.

“Straight to the Gandhi museum please.” I order. Time is getting on and it is hot. Buildings are ok and the papparazzi thing kinda funny, but my friends told me they spent hours in the Gandhi museum: cheap books, inspiring pictures and ideas.

“Ok, but first I want to take you to…”

“No!” I exclaim. “Gandhi closes at 6.”

Eventually he agrees. Unfortunately his car isn’t happy with this plan. Ten minutes later smoke is coming from the bonnet. Air conditioning is turned off. Windows open.

“Oh no, oh no!” he says. Oh yes. I imagine the car blowing up, with me inside. The traffic stops. Ignition off.

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As the traffic starts moving he runs beside the car. I offer to help but when my offer is declined I snap photos and laugh to myself. I clap when we start. He gets in. A hundred meters on we conk out again. Horns go crazy from the surrounding cars. Emergency lights on. Now I imagine being attacked by angry drivers, like in Shantaram. Thank God this isn’t Bombay.

The driver manages to get the smoking shitbox to the side of the road. A very cute (and very cocky) cop wanders over to save the damsel in distress. He introduces me to his crew and brings me a large cold bottle of water.

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Time ticks on and eventually he excuses himself to get “back to his duties” and I lay down across the backseat of the car.

My mind is racing: this is not good. Not good at all. This car is supposed to drive me four hours to Agra, at 230am… And to make things worse I have zero cash because my bank card has been declared stolen (not by me) and is not working even though I told the bank I’m in India, and called them to assure them these withdrawals were mine. AND I still have all my bags in this car – more than half which are pre-prepared to be left at the airport allowing me freedom to jump on buses and trains and see sites as I please. Now I am trapped. Hostage.

I take out my envelope of contacts. A travel agency another friend recommended. Another friend’s friends who was an events organiser for an internation conference. Surely these contacts would be less dodgy than this dude with a stuffed up car. But I don’t have a phone. I consider asking the cop for his but before I do the driver is back and I’m loaded into his friend’s identical-looking car and told they will take me to a hotel in Delhi.

“I will bring a different car tomorrow,” he assures me.

“Can we first go to a bank and get rid of these bags?” I ask. Desperately wishing I hadn’t got myself into this mess I decide to go with it but only until I get to Agra. Then I’ll split – I’ll just suck it up and carry my bags.If I abandon this plan now there’s no way I can see all I want to see and be back for my flight in two days time.

Now I get told there is no left luggage facilities at the international airport because they are building a new airport, or something like that. I try various numbers in my guidebook to confirm this notion, but alas none of the numbers seem to work. Damn it!

I do get to a bank but my card still doesn’t work. I withdraw on credit card and hope the interest charges this will cause aren’t too huge. At least I have cash.

When I make it to the hotel my plans for dinner and internet fly out the window. I’m exhausted.

 

After a cold shower (not by choice) I take solace in the “Australian Network” with an ABC program on the muslim berka conflicts followed by an episode of my mum’s favourite tv show: Packed to the Rafters. The Australian accent sounded like music to my ears.

Curing my incurable optimism

India is curing what my mentor used to call, my “incurable optimism.” I’m not it’s a good thing, it’s definitely a more depressing state of mind. But hey, the truth hurts. And I’d rather live and be aware of the truth, no matter how painful it may be, than live a lie or an illusion.

In Mumbai I picked up a book someone (sorry, I can’t remember who) recommended: Holy Cow! An Indian Adventure by Sarah Macdonald. And it is a god-send, assuring me that the horrors and the emotional rollercoaster I have been experiencing are nothing to write home about.

India is changing me in ways I least expected. I thought I’d become more passionate about poverty and yet instead I find myself more accepting of it. Just like when I was in Paris and eventually had to accept that it is better not to smile at people on trains, here I have no choice but to accept my social location as wealthy westerner and play out my role. I try as hard as I can not to look people in the eye as apparently only women who are prostitutes do that. I try not to cry when children with bits missing – ears, eyes, limbs, you name it – ask me for money.

I like Sarah Macdonald’s description of the shock:

‘A ghostly torso or a gaunt face with an expression straight from ‘The Scream’ rises up from the milky depths. Long, skinny Addams Family fingers rap on the window – death knocks from beggars. I shrink from the beings as if they’re lepers and then realise many actually are. Still freaked from seeing bits of people through the airport fence, I’m now scared by seeing people without bits.’ (p. 17.) 

Walking out of the airport was scary. The rest of the city was even scarier.

I guess it is normal to hate this place. It is normal to get completely ripped off. It is normal to be frightened and frustrated and freaked out. It is normal for your heart to break on sight of the shocking poverty. And it is normal to see it and then appreciate your own wealth. I may say to myself (and often write on this blog) that “money doesn’t matter to me” but I tell you one thing – I am glad I have it. 

I hate that life is so unfair. How is it that billions of people in our world live such harsh lives? Why am I so lucky to live my life doing the things I love doing, and never having to worry about a roof over my head? And how is it that I am stuck witnessing it, wanting to change it, but feeling helpless to do anything about it?

I feel as if I am surrounded by lose-lose situations. My friend tells me that if I give money to these children I am only feeding the mob behind it. My pity, or generosity or however you choose to see it, is only working to chop more bits off more children. The only alternative is to ignore them and feel the stare from hell burn my soul. Yeah I love India. Not.

Like many things in this world, you are damned if you do, damned if you don’t. How the heck did it get to this state? What was India like before the British? Before the Persians? Does this poverty have anything to do with me and the global capitalist system? Or is it a consequence of their religion, of the caste system that has allegedly, but obviously has not, been outlawed.

In reflection, I can see that I have slipped into a habit of possibly unnecessary self-criticism. I have been blaming the world’s problems – war, environment, poverty – on the present actions of the Capitalistic West and on our ancestors, who set up such a structurally violent system. But seeing the complex reality in India, where rich and poor live side-by-side, my convictions are weakening.

Capitalism may be completely unjust, but it seems to be a better product than anything else on the market. All human societies have had their problems: the hunters and gatherers wiped out species in periods as short as days, the Mayans sacrificed humans to appease their conception of god, and the Hindu caste system is evil and still living. Let’s face it: humanity has been f’d up for a long time. The west may be the present hegemonic force but to demonise it and suggest other civilizations have better systems may be a pointless idealistic pursuit.

Now I don’t know what I make of any of it. I don’t know how the rich and poor are connected. I don’t know how over-population can be stopped. I don’t know how the cycle of poor getting poorer and rich getting richer can be reversed. Again, Sarah’s description provides me some solace:

‘It’s rich and poor, spiritual and material, cruel and kind, angry but peaceful, ugly and beautiful, and smart but stupid. It’s all the extremes. India defies understanding, and for once, for me, that’s okay. In Australia, in my small pocket of my own isolated country, I felt like I understood my world and myself, but now, I’m actually embracing not knowing and I’m questioning much of what I thought I did know.’ (Holy Cow p. 123.)

At least I’m not the only one who comes to India and finds her understanding of the world turned upside down. One thing I do know is that the images and experience of these few days in Bombay – of people lacking limbs, and boys lacking ears, and even younger children knocking on the car window pleading for money – are permanently embossed in my mind. I’m sure they will continue to affect my thoughts, studies, and actions, in ways I can’t begin imagine. It is one thing to analyse and look for solutions to over-population and extreme-poverty on paper, but in reality, well… it just seems so utterly hopeless.

Optimism is being drained from my blood, and fast. 

That being said I suppose there has to be hope. All our values are cultural and conditioned to the lifestyle and way of thinking we grow up with. But we are adaptable. We can change. We just need a model that works. Then we can transition to it. But is their a model that works? Surely we can find one, can’t we? All civilizations can be looked through the lens of violence, or through a lens of peace and progression. Our environment and our awareness and understanding of ourselves and our environment, is constantly expanding. As it does we, like all animals in changing environments, are able to adjust and evolve, to recreate ourselves, our identities and our lives. I guess that note of hope means India hasn’t quite cured my incurable optimism. At least not yet 🙂

Which road are you on?

These are some roads I drive on all the time but have never seen from this perspective… So while I should be packing and practicing my presentation here I am testing out the blogging application on my iPhone (thanks Leigh for making this work!!!).

This view got me thinking…

What road am I on?
What is my destination?
Am I taking the cross city tunnel? Or am I driving the scenic route through kings cross? Am I willing to pay the toll?
Am I moving forwards or backwards? Is there any way to know one from the other?
Am I going wih the traffic or against it?
Do all roads lead to the same place?

How about you: in your relationships, in your career, and in your life journey, which road are you on?

Why did the goose cross the road?

Why do any of us cross roads??? To get to the other side of course… still it was quite a funny sight.

Today I took Bella to Centennial Park. As we approached a large flock of swans and geese Bella instinctively led me away from the big mean-looking birds. What I found interesting was that not once did she look their way. Later we walked near two smaller birds and Bella ran toward them, joyously spurring them to fly away. Then again, some geese in the distance… before we were even close she was leading me in the opposite direction. Is it a territorial thing, or could she sense danger? They are big birds and she is a relatively small dog…

It got me thinking about different animal senses. Did you know that bats “see” the world through their ears – that is, they can hear the vibrations between themselves and an object, sense it’s distance, and construct what we would think of as an image of the world from these sounds? Some say they even sense colour through their ears.

How about Bella? How do dogs see, hear, smell, and feel the world around them? I know their senses are different to ours, but what are these differences? Do they have senses that we don’t?

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FV4EMzyJsqU[/youtube]

As this clip shows, dogs are somehow more in tuned to the movements of the earth – so straight up that’s something I guess.

According to Charlie LaFave, dogs eyesight might not be completely colour blind (they also see blues and greens to greys and crèmes), but they detect motion far better than we do and have far better night vision than us. They also hear 4 times the distance we do, have a sense of smell 100,000 times more powerful than ours, and have sensory receptors all over their body (hence their love of snuggles).[1]

Then you think of platypus, and their electroreceptors on their beaks… man evolution is incredible!!! Small adaptations, over long periods of time, developing such diversity.

Our senses allow us to construct the world we know – a three dimensional world defined by a language of duality. We evolved to see and speak about this world in this way, so that we might survive and procreate.

I wonder what might surround us that we cannot yet sense? Will we need to develop new senses in order to survive in a warmer and highly polluted planet? What does the future hold, for us and our senses?


[1] http://www.ownedbypugs.com/index.php/articles/archives/5_ways_your_dog_senses_the_world_differently_from_you/



The evolution of “Man’s Best Friend”

I stole my sister’s schipperke Bella for two days of doggie companionship – it’s pretty clear why they say that a dog is a man’s best friend. Not only are dogs adorable and fluffy, they (especially Bella) give you cuddles and snuggles when you ask, they run and have fun with you, they don’t hide what they are thinking and feeling, and best of all they love you unconditionally.

This morning we walked around Rushcutter’s Bay amongst many other doggies and dog owners, and I started wondering… How did dogs evolve to become our friends? When did it all begin??? What breeds are purebreds and what breeds did we create? Are dogs, with all their human-like qualities, a good example of evolution in action?

Jumping the gun on my Big History series, but with Bella by my side my curiosity won me over and I sought out some answers.

Briefly to provide some context, wolves, foxes, cats AND HUMANS had a common ancestor around 75-million years ago. Primates (including monkeys, apes and us) broke away from the our mammal brothers and sisters in the Carnivore group (ie meat eaters) – which from a common ancestor known as the Miacid broke into the Caniformia subgroup that includes the Canidae family (coyotes, dogs, foxes, jackals, and wolves) and families with other fancy names that include pandas, skunks, racoons, seals, sea lions, badgers, and bears; and the Feliformia subgroup that includes Felidea (cats, lions, tigers etc) as well as other families of hyenas and mongoose.[1]

Dogs are domesticated wolves that diverged from their wolf ancestors around 15000 years ago. ALL breeds of dogs are connected to humans – be they a result of “natural” breeding in response to their environment as it changed in the course of human civilisation, or through “selective” breeding with random hybrids like labradoodles a recent example.

Breeds classified as “purebred” are done so according to documented lineages – a tradition that began at the English Kennel Club in 1873. The breeds with the fewest genetic differences from wolves tend to be the natural bred ones, which are more considered “ancient dog breeds” – eg Afghan Hound (Afghanistan), Chow Chow (China), Lhasa Apso (Tibet), Pekingese (China), Shar Pei (China), Shih Tzu (Tibet), Tibetan Terrier (Tibet), Saluki (Fertile Crescent), Basenji (DR Congo), Akita Inu (Japan), Shiba Inu (Japan), Samoyed (Russia), Siberian Husky (Russia), and Alaskan Malamute (Alaska).

How did they come to be our friends? Actually there are different theories, but no one really knows. It could have happened as long as 100,000 years ago, with a cooperative relationship developing between our species: wolves hanging around campsites for safety, food scraps, and greater chances of breeding, while humans gaining improved sanitation from the dogs cleaning up the scraps, extra warmth and security alerts when other animals/people approached the site.

And from cooperative hunting in the forest, to cooperative hunting for mates in parks (everyone knows its easier to pick up when you have a cute dog with you wink wink) we have found our new best friend.

But how does a big mean ugly wolf turn into a adorable little puppy? I guess it’s not unlike masculine hunters turning into metro-sexuals – through less contact with the actual kill and physically adapting to whatever (they believe) will increase their chances of spreading their seed. The cuter the dog and the more socially savvy, the more scraps they get and the less need to hunt and kill.

The main physical differences between wolves and dogs evolved in the last 12,000 years since the introduction of agriculture, humans settled and (at least some civilisations) started to look after dogs as one of their own. This continued right through to more recent  tailoring dogs for our companionship needs – Paris Hilton toy dogs are a prime example.

How can a dog stay small forever. With a process called “pedomorphosis” or “juvenification” – a process that causes adults of a species to retain traits previously seen only in juveniles – that is, somehow, adults still look like babies. This isn’t a man-made process, it’s a natural way of evolution for example the flatness of the human face compared with other primates.

I wonder, with today’s obsession with youth – from magazines to beauty creams – will we one day in the near future genetically modify ourselves to keep our juvenile qualities for life? Is this something we would want to do? I’d like to say no – that I want to age gracefully – but heck, to look 25 for the next 100 years wouldn’t be so bad…

I have sidetracked completely and really I have to get back to writing and preparing for India (less than 2 weeks and counting) so I will leave this interesting piece of research there. All in all I have to say that besides having to put up with their farts and pick up their pooh, I love dogs and I wish my rental contract didn’t forbid me or else I would buy my own little Bella for myself.


[1] http://animaldiversity.ummz.umich.edu/site/index.html

Another good article: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1921614-4,00.html

The parable of Easter Island

When I was in South America, one place I missed was Easter Island. If you want to go here I believe flying LAN Chile is the way to go as they give you a free stop over if you’re flying from Australia. We flew Aerolinias Argentinas (one thing I hope to NEVER do again) and instead I got to see New Zealand Airport. You live and learn… Moving on… I want to tell you why Easter Island interested me so much.

Easter Island, or Rapa Nui (the native name), was discovered by a Dutch ship on Easter Sunday in 1722 inhabited by around 3,000 people in war over scarce food resources and surrounded by over 600 of the six-meter high stone statues (that occupy every photo and postcard that leaves the island).

How did it get like this? Well the first settlement on the island was by probably one boatload of 20-30 people 1,500 years ago, but as populations increased and became separate villages, competition arose in the form of ‘a recognizably modern form: competitive monument building.’[1]

Building and transporting the statues involved chopping down trees and more and more trees were cut down until they were all gone ‘quite suddenly, the society collapsed’ as without wood they ‘could no longer fish, make cloth, or build houses, so their diets became impoverished… [and] deforestation also led to erosion, reducing soil fertility and crop yields…’ so basically ‘population growth and increasing consumption of resources, driven by political and economic competition, led to sudden environmental and social collapse.’[1]

As David Christian notes, ‘the most horrifying aspect of this story is that the islanders and their leaders must have seen it coming. They must have known as they felled the last trees that they were destroying their own future and that of their children. And yet they cut the trees down.’[1]

What do you think: ‘Does Rapa Nui provide an appropriate parable for thinking about the larger trajectory of human history?’[1]

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References:

[1] David Christian, Maps of Time.  pp. 472-475. David sourced this story from Clive Pointing in Green History of the World (1992)

Top picture:

Moai at Rano Raraku |Source = from en:Image:Moai Rano raraku.jpg taken during January 2004

Second picture:

Photo made by de:Benutzer:Makemake and uploaded by him on 18. Dec 2004

Both pictures are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution ShareAlike 3.0 License. In short: you are free to share and make derivative works of the file under the conditions that you appropriately attribute it, and that you distribute it only under a license identical to this one. Official license

Buddha’s charter of free inquiry

The Kalama Sutta, the  “Charter of Free Inquiry” from Buddhism:

Do not accept anything on mere hearsay (ie oral history/ just because many people believe it)

Do not accept anything by mere tradition (ie just because it has been handed down generation to generation)

Do not accept anything on account of rumours (ie new stories / what others say)

Do not accept anything just because it accords with your scriptures (ie holy books or official texts)

Do not accept anything by mere inference (ie suppositional reasoning / axiom)

Do not accept anything by merely considering the appearances (ie philosophical reasoning)

Do not accept anything merely because it agrees with your preconceived notions (ie common sense)

Do not accept anything merely because it seems acceptable (ie your own opinion)

Do not accept anything linking that the ascetic is respected; by us (ie authorities and teachers)

But only after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept and abide by it.

Strange looking animals

So I’m still writing my book – the novel on South America – well, I’m editing it. It’s a tough. I like writing, but not a big fan of editing and filling in the gaps. Does anyone knows a good editor? Anyway, while searching for the name of a strange animal I came across while traveling along Ruta 40 – a 36 hour bus ride – down Argentina. Yes, you heard me right – THIRTY SIX HOURS ON A BUS. Along the way I met a what I now know is called a Pink Fairy Armadillo – which looks like a bit like an echidna, just without the spikes. (photo above).

While googling “echidna-like animals in Argentina” I also came across this Worlds Strangest Looking Animals website. These were a couple of them:

elephant_shrew_Worlds_strangest_looking_animals-s450x338-2312-580Elephant Shrew

star_nosed_mole_Worlds_strangest_looking_animals-s1360x673-2274-580Star nosed mole

http://www.sharenator.com/Worlds_strangest_looking_animals/

I wonder if an elephant began as an elephant shrew? Richard Dawkins’ The Ancestors Tale tells how humans evolved from shrew-like creatures. Did you know whales are related to pigs? I’ll tell you more about that later. What a weird and wonderful world this is…