Reasons why I love my planet

Sometimes when you’re in the midst of famine, terrorism, viral outbreaks and high finance it’s difficult to see the freckles of goodness that spot Earth (hrm… freckles = melanoma = cancer… bad analogy). The fact is they do exist. As most of the problems I have listed have to do with human beings and all of them are perpetuated by human behaviour it’s best to look outside the species for a ray of sunshine (sunshine = metabolic radiation = melanoma = cancer… why do I bother…)

So recently I’ve been preoccupied with the utter coolness of life on Earth when it isn’t constantly lopping grenades at other life on Earth. This was partially triggered by my vegetarianism post, which ignited my dormant respect for vegetable matter and its diversity. So here goes.

Plants:

Plants are awesome. No, I’m not a hippie, and I’m not on drugs. Really, they are. They are the oldest surviving kingdom of organic life on Earth save bacteria, but to be honest it isn’t really that difficult to survive for millions of years when you are a single cell organism. But when you are capable of perpetuating your existence simply by drinking up light and dirt, you reach a new echelon of epic-ness.

The way I understand it, plants are differentiated from other forms of life by the fact that they have more chloroplasts than mitochondria and have more than a modicum of cell matter. Plants also have a very simple nervous system which allows them to undertake basic perceive-react programming without the bells and whistles.

Plants have two qualities I appreciate. The first is adaptability. They can reattach damaged limbs not only from their own species but from other plant species. Younger plants can graft parts of older plants in order to reach maturity faster. How cool is that? If I could graft a third arm without extensive surgery I’d be a much happier man.

The second quality is patience. Plants don’t feel the need to rush – everything they need will come to them provided they wait long enough. They stand around in the shade, eating and growing, and eventually they grow taller than the shade and blossom. If an axe is left next to a tree, they don’t avoid it – they grow over it, absorbing the blade little by little until the axe is fixed within them where it cannot do any harm. Plants don’t have that vibrant ‘kill or be killed’ mentality that we animals do. Some live and others die, but none complain.

The symbiosis of plants is to be appreciated too. Think of barbs and burs. Plants have learnt to both predict and count on the fact that animals will find them tasty and attempt to eat them, so that they can reproduce. The same holds for the Venus Flytrap – plants are well acquainted with the concept of bait. When you think of how such a mechanism must have arisen, you can gain some appreciation for just how old the plant kingdom is. They’ve been there right from the beginning, through every incarnation of the planet that yielded the genetic potential for birds, reptiles, insects, fish and mammals.

You are never too old to climb a tree (although I wouldn’t recommend it if you are one hundred and thirty, and if you are, congratulations on learning how to use the internet). If you have not climbed a tree within the past month, in the name of whatever you hold dear stop reading this and do so now.

Welcome back.

I sat in a tree today. Granted, it was in the middle of a parking lot, but you can’t be pernickety when you live in the city. Trees evoke a primal emotion within me. Perhaps it is some residual ancestral programming sparked in my coiling myriad of DNA helixes. Climbing trees makes me feel safe and distant from the world below. I read somewhere that most people hardly ever look above eyelevel, and it’s true. If you ever need to get away from everything, or if you ever need a quiet place to think and reflect, seek the gentle companionship of a tree.

Bacteria:

I know I bashed them for not evolving the way we have, but now I’m taking it back. Bacteria are amazing. Back in yonder days when complex organisms didn’t exist, they probably seemed like lazy slobs. But now they are swimming in the bloodstreams and acidic juices of every life form on the planet, and staying small looks like a pretty good idea. Imagine a whole city nestled in your kidney. Imagine what it must be like to have such a simple code of behaviour instructing you – divide and conquer.

As with human beings, there are two main types of bacteria. The first type is ‘bad’. These are viruses, who focus on cell division at the detriment of their host. They consume all the resources that keep us going and use it to grow. If the virus is unlucky, it eventually ends up killing itself by destroying the host and any path to a new one.

The second type are ‘good’ bacteria. They believe in moderation, and spend their time conquering more than dividing. They keep a constant watch for bad bacteria and fight against them for territory, keeping the host alive and killing off large numbers of themselves in the process. Sometimes all this internal warfare really does feel like someone has dropped a nuke in your stomach.

Bacterial relationships are reflected pretty well in Star Wars. For those of you who have been living under a rock since the 70s, I’m talking about midi-chlorians, the fictional micro-organisms which reside in every living thing and are responsible for the phenomenon known as ‘The Force’. Basically ‘The Force’ is separated into two sides (sound familiar?), Light and Dark. The Light Side is harnessed by controlling one’s emotions and using moderation with every action one performs. It is not ‘good’ as some people may see ‘good’, but most people will agree it is synonymous with balance. The Jedi (users of the light side) are beings who have dedicated themselves to perpetuating civilisation by curbing the effects of such emotions as hatred and love (yes, love. The Jedi insist that unchecked love leads to fear, fear to power lust, and power lust to hatred).

Similarly bacteria are separated into their two groups in this way: moderation (the light side) and domination (the dark side).

We have a lot to learn from bacteria, provided we haven’t already done so from Hollywood.

Bacteria are there to remind us that life is everywhere, and that we are never alone. Do you consider your soul the sole resident of your body?

I don’t.

 Do you believe that all independent life has its own soul?

I do. There are approximately 40 000 000 000 individual bacteria cells in 1 gram of organic matter. If all souls are equal or at the very least can be said to have begun equal, you need acknowledge that 10¹⁴ thinking, feeling life forms are flowing through your veins like empyreal fire at this very moment.

None of us are alone, and all of us matter.

Books:

Ok, technically they are not alive, but they are outside the human species. Some things breathe, and other things make those first things breathe. Books are those things. Those un-breathing things, that is.

Language alone is a broken instrument. When we speak to one another, we are primarily concerned with three things; the ease of communication, the speed of communication and the correctness of communication. While these are similar, they are not identical.

‘Ease’ of communication refers to the rate at which understanding is perceived to flow. It avoids unnecessary repetition, the use of synonyms and analogy which otherwise lengthen the process of speaking.

‘Correctness’ of communication is the rate at which understanding actually flows. This one can be difficult, because sometimes people say they understand what you are saying and end up killing an American president when all you really wanted was for them to pass you a nacho. The factors affecting correctness are word use, pronunciation and connotation. For example if one pronounces the word ‘enchilada’ as ‘bazooka’ you are likely to trigger a war.

‘Speed’ of communication is exactly what it sounds, ironically. People don’t want to stand in the rain talking about umbrellas for half an hour before opening one. In conversation you need to get your point across quickly. Focus, mental flexibility and verbal reflex get you there. Some people like me really struggle with this, and are left soaking wet, babbling about umbrellas long after all conversational participants have fled.

Books are the base upon which language is honed into a finer tool. They contain centuries’ worth of analytical and speculative data which have been condensed in a variety of forms and ways to iterate the exact thoughts of their makers.

This all sound very cold, which is in no way how I feel about books.

A library is a safe harbour. In a confusing and often demanding world, books give us clarity and respite. They ask for nothing, and give everything.

For times when we feel Earth is devoid of any and all virtue, we can turn to fiction and imagine things like honour, chivalry and self-sacrifice are called for at every moment. In books Evil need not be devious or cloaked in deception, but is openly recognised and easily fought. Anything I have ever thought worth knowing was learnt from fiction. I reckon the real world could do with a touch of the inexplicable.

Perhaps the greatest phenomenon exclusive to literature is that it in the end the art form has very little to do with the writer. Words are meat – they refer to those physical entities and equations that bind together to create a story. One does not feel sad because one reads the word ‘despair’. One feels sad because they have empathy and imagination, and it is the reader who is responsible for defining the surreal perimeters simple phrases like ‘a war-torn wasteland of mountainous debris’ evoke. I did not put a sun or a moon in that phrase, but there is a good chance you saw one when you pictured it. Books remind us that we are all artists, and we can all create. Books cause a revolution in the mind by activating the senses and charging electricity into a dormant brain.

Books, while unliving and unloving, cause others to live and love.