“Planned obsolescence” is not just a human phenomenon. It prepares us for change in both the natural and the man-made landscape. We know that both ripe berries and apple watches will not last forever, so we begin to anticipate.
A bear may be gorging on salmon but he’ll be sure to check out how far along the blackberries are to ripening. His senses are attuned for qualia in the landscape that tells him to begin looking for a different set of landmarks.
We are animals too, but human consciousness has been warped away from natural to manmade landmarks. By the time we are six or seven years old we have been completely groomed by families, schools, churches, advertisers, fashions, politics, and a host of other traditional institutions, pretty much to the exclusion of nature or ecosystems. Human-centered landmarks and pathways guide us routinely for the rest of our lives.
The human landscape fills us with anxiety because our planned obsolescence, unlike nature’s, is not dependable. In nature, the bounty lasts a season but it comes back next year, while in the human landscape the corner store may be closed for the night already, or our favorite product may be discontinued.
That is why change for us causes anxiety instead of simple, healthy alertness. So how do we get our innate alertness back?
We have to think and act a little differently, to transform the landmarks we have been indoctrinated with. They must become not just obsolete, but irrelevant. Beginning within ourselves, we must focus on the landmarks and pathways of our inner landscape.
Simply put, the human landscape is a material landscape, and success means being able to satisfy our addictions (or to be in a position to help others satisfy theirs). Success in the human landscape means something quite different than success in ecosystems.
There are no addictions in ecosystems. Big Dopamine indulgence comes and goes only for a season – not long enough to turn animals into addicts. Like ecosystems, our inner landscapes are qualiadelic (which is why I prefer the term ecosystems to nature, nature being the material manifestation of ecosystems).
This is where conscious ritualing comes in. Very simple. First, we notice the qualia that is revealed to us by our inner landscapes – the way a bear notices signs that it may be time to switch the diet to blackberries (fewer salmon, or fall weather maybe).
Our inner landscapes (including the mind and imagination when it lets go of its human dogma) reveal qualia to us when we need it. Speaking of human dogma, it’s sort of like the Holy Spirit which leads us to the answers to our prayers. Once we can put our faith in our own minds we will be guided back to ecosystems, and ecosystems always reveal the qualia we need when our survival is at stake.
To begin with our inner landscape, it will be Little Dopamine, qualiadelic pleasures, which are always present, autonomic, like your heartbeat or the change from night to day.
Once we notice Little Dopamine, we can experiment and play with it in controlled spontaneity. To see if it’s good.
If we are not struggling to survive, qualia in all its beauty and sublimity is still there for us to appreciate. That is another gift from ecosystems.
Then we go back to the routine, but anxiety is slightly altered. After repeating our rituals, consciously, anxiety will disappear altogether, and we will simply remain alert.
Perhaps the greatest gift for us humans is that, unlike matter, qualia doesn’t cost anything. It comes to us each freely and uniquely. We can share it and still it remains our own. This is why all creatures have so much contentment.
Ultimately, this is the best way to make our addictive, material economy obsolete.
We can do this.