2013 & Beyond: Imagine it


The philosophical movement of modernism arose in the time of the Enlightenment (18th century) where the belief in universal human progress and the sovereignty of scientific reasoning became important. According to the French (postmodern) philosopher Lyotard, modernism was based on three starting-points or ‘Grands Récits’1:

• The subjection of and total control over the nature (economic rationalisation)

• The subjection of and total control over politics (political rationalisation)

• The possibility of gaining objective knowledge (scientific rationalisation)

We are now living in the postmodern era. Nietzsche was the first philosopher to predict this era. Postmodernism has emerged due to the detrimental impacts of technological developments. We see the serious consequences of environmental ravages in agriculture (soil loss due to the intensification of production methods). Still talking about the field of environmental studies, postmodernism has emerges with people like Rachel Carson. We see the exploitation of resources (nuclear Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the first energy crisis), weapons (nuclear bombs and chemical weapons development) etc.. We also see the effect of technology on health, with the Unethical Nazi doctors, the introduction of drugs with serious side effects on the health and epidemics caused by increased production rates high the agri-food industry. The era of world wars marked the end of the belief in the dogma that science is the key to universal truth to cure all ills. Postmodernism represents a philosophical current issued from the reaction to modernism following this transformation of society.

Postmodernism didn’t work, and you know why? Because it is based on the cumulative effect of accumulation, of mass accumulation. Yes, capitalism! People were talking about the end of the world. To me, the end of the world is the end of postmodernism, but of course not of all its components. The social aspect of postmodernism should remain with the emergence of another era. The social aspect should only remain in all kinds of sciences, but it should also extend to the life of each one of us; hence, the emergence of ethical norms instead of economic ones. The arrival of this paradigm shift was inevitable and today, the direction of the epistemology of science is difficult to predict. Certainly, there will be a paradigm shift, but when and what will be, will remain a mystery till now.

Certainly, there is hope. Hope is coming. It is on its way. Hope is coming with a wind of change, toward a better community in which there is no upper hand, where all living beings live equally.

We will have to work towards the end of the world of the spectacle. The spectacle is where all the relations, the needs, the needs, the dreams, the wishes are turned into profitable commodity, into obligation, into blackmail…                                                                                                                                                                                                                          The life turns into a spectacle of real life, and the world turns into endless desert.

As a resolution for 2013, I will stress on ‘love without fear’, especially unconditional love.

Let’s stop judging others and explore our world! Let’s embrace universal love. We are all in this together.

“There are no passengers on Spaceship Earth. We are all crew. ”
– Marshall McLuhan-


Singing the Song of Universal Love


Went walking today. Clearly, there was magic on the streets of Downtown. Not merely the joy of Christmas, but people were joyfully addressing me in particular, from the streets to the library I attended. Yes, singing the song of Universal Love as if I am the conductor of that orchestra. Yes my dear friends, there is hope.

As Arundhati Roy said:”Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.”

Under the Sky, Above the grass, On the Horizon, an Infinity of Voices


The prairie was flat, green, and rich with scattered stands of oaks. The sky above was blue as generally. On the horizon there was a movement, like the shadow of a cloud: a vast herd of animals on the move. There was a kind of sigh, a breathing-out. An observer standing close enough might have felt a whisper of breeze on the skin. And a woman was lying on the grass. Her name was Maria Valiente. She wore her favorite pink angora sweater. She was only fifteen, but she was pregnant, and the baby was coming. The pain of the contractions pulsed through her skinny body. A moment ago she hadn’t known if she was afraid of the birth, or the anger of Sister Stephanie who had taken away her monkey bracelet, all that Maria had from her mother, saying it was a sinful token.

And now, this. Open sky where there should have been a nicotine-stained plaster ceiling. Grass and trees, where there should have been a worn carpet. Everything was wrong. Where was here? How could she be there? But that didn’t matter. The pain washed through her again, and she felt the baby coming. There was nobody to help, not even Sister Stephanie. She closed her eyes, and screamed, and pushed.

The baby spilled on to the grass. Maria knew enough to wait for the afterbirth. When it was done there was a warm mess between her legs, and a baby, covered in sticky, bloody stuff. It, he, opened his mouth, and let out a thin wail.

There was a sound like thunder, from far away. A roar like you’d hear in zoo. Like a lion.

A lion? Maria screamed again, this time in fear. The scream was cut off, as if by a switch. Maria was gone. The baby was alone.

Alone, except for the universe which poured in him and spoke to him with an infinity of voices. And behind it all, a vast silence.

His crying settled to gurgle. The silence was comforting.

There was a kind of sigh, a breathing-out. Maria was back in the green, under the blue sky. She sat up, and looked around in panic. Her face was grey; she was losing a lot of blood, but her baby was here. She scooped up the baby and the afterbirth- she hadn’t even tied off the cord- wrapped him in her angora sweater and cradled him in her arms. His little face was oddly calm. She thought she’d lost him. ‘Joshua’, she said. ‘Your name is Joshua Valiente.’

A soft pop, and they were gone.

On the plain, nothing remained but a drying mess of blood and bodily fluids, and the grass, and the sky. Soon, though, the scent of blood would attract attention.

And, long ago, on a world as close as a shadow:

A very different version of North America cradled a huge, land-locked, saline sea. This sea teemed with microbial life. All this life served as single tremendous organism.

And on this world, under a cloudy sky, the entirety of the turbid sea cradled with a single thought.

I …

This thought was followed by another.

To what purpose?