My Final Move (Round Four)
17
October, 2018
Life
is a shipwreck but we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats
~
Voltaire
As
of late last night, I live in Westchester County, about an hour north
of New York City by automobile or train. In more than 58 years on
Earth so far, I never imagined those words would be tapped onto my
keyboard. Some surprises are better than others.
I’m
pleasantly surprised I’m still here, long after I suspected abrupt
climate change would send the grim reaper my way. Actually, I’m
astonished I’m here at all, given the long odds of DNA within this
universe. And, more to the point of this revelatory essay, I thought
I’d die in each of the three previous places I lived.
Upon
completing a leave of absence from university life in 2000, I
returned to my professorial position in Tucson, Arizona from the
Washington, D.C. metropolitan area. I’d
served for a year as the inaugural director of
the program
that has become the premiere postdoctoral program on Earth.
Tucson wasn’t great — it was a big city, after all, and it the
human population has expanded considerably since 2000 — but the
university was a decent match to my professional skills and desires,
Tucson was familiar, and moving really sucks. The transition from
enormous metroplex to big city, with the latter surrounded by the
Sonoran Desert, joyfully took me back to one of the most biologically
rich places in North America.
The
move to the Mud Hut in the wilds of southern, rural New Mexico was
begun in August 2007 and was completed in May 2009 when I voluntarily
left active service at the university. It represented a marital
compromise and a transition from the biologically rich Sonoran Desert
to the relatively impoverished grassland within the Chihuahuan
Desert. The move was an attempt to demonstrate an off-grid
alternative to living within industrial civilization. This teachable
moment also illustrated one pathway to the transition-town ideal, as
I’ve explained repeatedly in this space. Little did I know it was
too late to head off abrupt climate change and the Sixth Mass
Extinction. Now I know plenty about both phenomena, but my knowledge
came too late to preserve the relationships left in the wake of
selecting a path beyond the mainstream. In becoming the world’s
leading authority on the topic of abrupt climate change leading to
near-term human extinction, I learned a lot about betrayal during the
initial years of my “retirement.” My education about betrayal and
those who practice it continues, sadly.
Enter
Exhibit 3, July 2016, Belize. I moved a couple miles east of downtown
San Antonio, a Mayan village in the Cayo District. Now fully aware of
the twin predicaments of abrupt climate change and the Sixth Mass
Extinction, not to mention unencumbered by relationships once dear to
me, I moved to the country of my choice. Belize had occupied that
position for more than a decade when I moved there, for
the variety of reasons I’ve described in this space.
The 57-acre
homestead I occupied for more than two years is for sale at a bargain
price because
the owner now lives in New York state.
After
the 27-month adventure of a lifetime in the Belizean jungle, I’m
back in the country of my birth. As with my move from Tucson to New
Mexico, my latest transition takes me away from a biologically rich
area to an area considerably more impoverished from the perspective
that matters most to me: life.
Westchester County claims nearly three
times as many residents as the nation I left behind, a country about
the size of Massachusetts.
I
love the Belizean jungle, in part because I didn’t spend 18-hour
days with a pick and shovel, as I did at the Mud Hut. Wielding a
keyboard is surely more dangerous than swinging a shovel, but the
keyboard is easier on my aging body. Given the “McPherson paradox”
underlaid by the aerosol masking effect, I’ve chosen the keyboard
and my voice in my continued educational pursuits.
Living
in western Belize allowed me to continue my work on three fronts: (1)
speaking tours, (2) hosting Only
Love Remains workshops at
my home, and (3) hosting guests from around the globe for extended
discussions about various topics. I will pursue similar endeavors
from my new home in New York, with item (3) getting started with next
week’s guests from South Carolina and Virginia, and item (1) to be
accomplished by touring the Eastern Hemisphere early next month.
As
with the move from one southwestern state to another a decade ago, my
latest one is rooted in compromise. I’ve gone from a rural jungle
to an urban zoo, for better and worse. I’ll not sacrifice a
relationship dear to me over something as trivial as how and where I
will turn the final pages in my personal diary.
For
the last several years, I’ve believed it important to live in a
rural area, in part to avoid the chaos likely to ensue as industrial
civilization becomes less civilized. I’ve
recently convinced myself that I will deal with the chaos calmly,
largely because my response to chaos will be acceptance of my
pain-filled fate with minimal suffering.
We will all know, way too soon, how that works out for each of us, as
individuals.
One
advantage of living in New York is my ready access to technology
difficult to find in Belize. One result is that I
will join Kevin Hester as cohost of Nature Bats on the Progressive
Radio Network,
effective 4 December 2018 (early November will find me on a speaking
tour in the Eastern Hemisphere, and the difference in time zones
precludes my participation in that month’s show). Another result
will be increased availability for audio and video interviews as the
Internet speed where I live increases by more than four orders of
magnitude (and the expense declines by an order of magnitude). We
will have a recording studio in about a week from today, and my
partner is a professional videographer. Prospective,
honest interviewers take note.
The
vastly improved telecommunications infrastructure in New York
relative to western Belize does not mean I will respond to inane
email messages, it does not mean I will respond more quickly to other
email messages, and it certainly does not mean I will watch every
“important” video sent my way. My computer is a cellular
telephone, with a keyboard smaller than my thumbprint. And I already
know what’s happening in the world.
For
those already passing judgment because my
sacrificing everything except my integrity wasn’t enough in the
“fight” against climate change or the battle with the Sixth Mass
Extinction,
I have no idea what you expect. I tried. I failed. Your
half-hearted efforts paled in comparison with mine.
They failed, too.
Because
I know what’s happening in the world, the apartment I’m renting
accepts visitors. If you’re interested in radical discussions
rooted in evidence, please plan your visit, starting with an email
message to me: guy.r.mcpherson@gmail.com.
From
one shithole country to another shithole country, yet again. From my
anarchistic perspective, every country with a name, borders, and
patriarchal government is a shithole country. Are some countries
better than others? Do some toilets flush the shit away more
efficiently than others? Do some commodes appear more “modern”
than others? Does some crap smell less bad than other crap? Who could
even argue?
Three
major moves in less than two decades, convinced each was my last, has
me circumspect about this fourth transition being my not-so-grand
finale. May we all have time for my fifth transition, whether or not
I pursue it.
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