Satya Yuga, The Golden Age


It would be easy for there to be Utopia on Earth. So easy, in fact, that it must already have happened at one time in our history; maybe more than once.
What is Utopia? It's not a single state of affairs, or a single arrangement. It's not a perfect city or perfect set of laws. It is a mindset based on a realization.
The realization is that the awareness behind our eyes and behind our minds is not a different awareness for each of us; there are not seven billion awarenesses; there is One. And nothing is impossible for that One.
In this mindset, everyone on Earth would be working towards the benefit of everyone else on Earth. Everyone would be helping everyone else to be happy.
In such a mindset, such a collective state of being, what would not be possible for humans, and all life on Earth?
With co-operation, global planning, mutual help and above all collective happiness, we would mine the planetary bodies, populate the stars, and there would be no boundaries for us anywhere.
The basis of our current progress is competition, and it has brought us a long way, but it has reached its limits. Competition requires voluntary fragmentation; we divide ourselves into many parts and peoples in order to strive against each other and use that stress, that competition for resources and happiness, to achieve. We define resources as limited, and compete to acquire more and do better things with them.
In a closed system such as the Earth, this strategy eventually fails, and a collapse of population must occur as the ecosystem loses its coherence and competition in the global organism ceases to achieve progress; rather, like cancer, it attacks its own components and begins to destroy itself until a new equilibrium can be reached.
An analysis of this problem leads inevitably to two conclusions. 
First, it is a profound mistake to treat Earth as a closed system. It has never been a closed system. Charged particles from the sun pour constantly into our atmosphere. Sunlight feeds life on Earth and drives our weather. Meteorite bombardment and supernovae gave us our minerals and our water. Now that we have achieved spaceflight, the system is even more open - we can transact voluntarily with the surrounding solar environment. We can mine asteroids, colonize other planetoids, and send long-term expeditions out of the solar system to seek other stars. A man-made object, the Voyager 1 probe, has almost left the solar system, 18 billion miles away. It's still sending back data. Earth is not a closed system. We are ready to seed the galaxy with whatever we choose to become.
Second, now that we have expanded to fill all of the inhabitable areas of the Earth, the competition model is no longer appropriate; the imaginary components into which we have divided ourselves should be dissolved and a collective identity established that allows collective action. Saying "we have to work together" does not go far enough. The truth is, we have to be one. Not together; single. One.
A unified collective exploring an open system would lead to a burst of progress comparable to the explosion that saw the first humans emerge from tribal wandering in Africa to populate the entire globe. Who knows what happened at that point in history? There was no history, no writing, because it hadn't been invented yet. Cities were built and then drowned in the deluge at the end of the last Ice Age, their ruins now sunken off the coasts of Japan, Pakistan, and other areas where even to this day the native people retain memories in the form of stories of the sea rising up to swallow them. We had ships and temples, laws and songs, and all those things had to be invented, created and collaborated on by human beings in a vast, effectively open world. Was there Utopia then? All it would have been is a mindset. A people, apparently alone in a vastness, their brains humming with ideas and plans, slowly structuring a wilderness, slowly forming an identity. The People. Almost every tribe in the world, before they encountered others, called themselves some version of The People. As it was once, so it could be again. The People and the Open Sky.
It would be easy. A change of mindset, the ghostliest and least substantial thing in the world, an idea. A simple idea, that we are The People and our world is both here and Out There, that our domain is infinite space and our plans do not have to be constrained. A simple idea, that all of us want to be happy and all of us would enjoy working together in happiness to achieve something that life must achieve; explosion into the stars.
Would it be easy, really? As anyone who has tried it knows, the hardest thing to change, insubstantial as it may be, is a mindset. The hardest, and yet the easiest, because although a man or woman might struggle for decades to be happy, to love others, and to change destructive habits, when the change comes it can be over in an instant. A new light in the eyes, the mind empties, and something clicks, and although the person is atom for atom the same being that was standing in that space only a moment before, everything is different. A new universe of possibility has been created by the change of a mindset; like the passing of a ghost.
As it is for one person, it could be for The People. An idea that blows through billions of minds like a breeze; that we are One.
That the awareness behind our eyes and behind our minds is not a different awareness for each of us; there are not seven billion awarenesses; there is One. And nothing is impossible for that One.
It could happen so easily. It could happen tomorrow.

Re-entering time

at the end of a long sequence, I accidentally entered a version of my own past time-stream through a story that must have had some similarity. the story was of an infidelity. then I witnessed a play - the stage made of doll's house cardboard, the puppets cardboard cut-outs of children, the movements controlled by real children - my sister and I, very young. I talked to myself. I was afraid to say much in case I should teach the young me something that could change the future. then I met me when I was 13 - taller, long hair, still a child but now more aware. I was writing code. I asked myself what I was writing. a code review. "but only if it turns out to be interesting. you're my guinea pig," i told the young me. He grinned and thought it was a waste of time. in the meantime, in the programmed drama, the man left the woman. I woke up explaining:

    We can know the immediate causes
    we can know the events that caused us to program ourselves as we did
    but we cannot know the underlying causes
    the deep motivations at the instant of decision
    that level of history can never exist and is lost forever
    and every attempt to recreate it is ALWAYS in some sense:

or:    we cannot locate awareness in the past
    we can only locate it in the present

or:    thinking is based on programs
    (memory, stories) created in the past
    awareness is not thinking
    and only exists NOW

deserts and caves

we are where we are - high in the air in front of windowbank - we see riverside and flat metal boats - we see sun and red brick - wheels and gulls and white, red, blue, green cranes - treeline of preserved parkland and flash of light from car windows - everything that is dead and still and everything that moves - the zombie river pulsing and heaving at the command of necromancer sea - slain by we the apprentice sorcerors - our golems and simulacra crowding the streets while we huddle further and further into the great square caves of apartments and offices - what we have brought into being will not die - for it was never alive - and we who are alive will become the mind within the machines' cells - we will fade into myth and legend as the hermit creatures - the hidden spirits - the conscious ones in the cells - the ghosts in the machines - the spark of light in the empty head of the golem

lions hunting the trackless wastes of the Gobi - dune oceans of mirror sands - oryx moving in dust clouds - dune edge in shadow as if carved by knife from bone - parched skin on screen and skin of scum on river through window - all walking home to containers of the mind - all walking home skinless over grey bridges - so many undone by death - the new bridges shaking and crying trampled by feet in military lockstep - sand pouring off cliff edge like water and blown back by wind - brought to the edge of the desert we peer across in awe - seeing bluebells and buttercups across the valley floor - irises peeping through beached ribcage of ancient whale - grasses rippling down sides of skin-coloured rock