That’s what I have: what to do if the end of time is postponed?
The jet travelers, in a sense, are shamanic flight cast in a technological and commercial mode. Most of the dreams of modern civilization—limitless mobility, flying through the air, seeing what’s going on somewhere else—these are all the technological realizations of shamanic visions. These things have been envisaged for thousands of years by shamans. Now we can all have them at just the press of a credit card.
You have to convince people that quality is important and that amount is not, and that people who have large amounts of tacky stuff are tacky.
The Earth is not our mother, exactly. It’s more like the placenta. And something is going on here in this species; it’s been going on for 100,000 years. Long before history, long before Western man, long before Greece, long before Christianity, there has been something fomenting in this one species. And it seems that we are going to burst through into some kind of super-dimension, and we don’t really care what kind of mess we leave behind. The planet groans in travail, because the planet would like to get back to business as usual—coral atolls, glaciers, volcanoes, the usual menu. But it has to shed this information-infected technology-producing virus that has taken hold of it. And as soon as we part, we will feel much more relieved because our dreams—which are the dreams of the imagination—can be unfolded in super-space or outer space. Anyway, they can’t be unfolded on the ground of a planet. When we unfold our dreams on the surface of a planet, you get Los Angeles or London. This is not what we’re striving for. It’s a sorry symbol for the cities of the heart that we would build if we could.
