The Gaia hypothesis, also known as the Gaia theory, Gaia paradigm, or the Gaia principle, proposes that living organisms interact with their inorganic surroundings on Earth to form a synergistic and self-regulating complex system that helps to maintain and perpetuate the conditions for life on the planet. The Gaia hypothesis was formulated by the chemist James Lovelock and co-developed by the microbiologist Lynn Margulis in the 1970s. Following the suggestion by his neighbour, novelist William Golding, Lovelock named the hypothesis after Gaia, the primordial deity who personified the Earth in Greek mythology. In 2006, the Geological Society of London awarded Lovelock the Wollaston Medal in part for his work on the Gaia hypothesis.
I read this — very interesting theory, by the way — and I realised that … it’s such an elusive thought, but I’ll try to catch it right now.
William Golding — yes, that William Golding, the Lord of the Flies William Golding — he suggested this name to his neighbour.
I imagined them casually walking over the neighbourhood and having a conversation, as they always do. James describes this hypothesis to William, to which he replies with this Gaia word that he happens to know, as a writer. And poet too.
I can imagine myself being a microbiologist. And a friend of mine being a poet, and a writer too. As much as I can imagine it all vice versa. I could be a writer, and a poet too, maybe.
And we would live our peaceful lives, in some town on the north coast of England. He’d be writing novels and thinking about life, studying philosophy and theology. I’d be doing some microbiology things microbiologists do. Or, I could be writing some novels, thinking about life, studying history and language. We wouldn’t have burnouts, nor would we feel isolation and loneliness, anxiety and depression. It might be less sunny, and the whole location could be felt somewhat peripheral to the Central Europe of where we’re from — some Eastern (for some weird reason) European capital, an overpopulated city. (For no reason, apart of poorly designed failed state country. And not just that, but over populated with Russians. Fucking Russians.)
Yeah, it might be as much peripheral as it is, but that would be a very positive characteristics in our books.
And we would live our lives, knowing no war, destruction, degradation, and all the other ‘funny’ things modern day Belarus is. We’d face some everyday life challenges, have some everyday emotions, and we could be devoting ourselves to some complicated and fascinating things. Because, why not? That’s what we would do, releasing our not very hidden potential.
Yet, since the previous generations of people from that country, they failed to protect their country, they allowed the neighbouring barbarians from Muscovy to destroy it. Some of them could die fighting, but en masse all of them failed. The new inhabitants, being Russians, meaning slaves, recreated what they know best, serfdom. And so, there’s no place for some complex and beautiful ideas. And if you’d dare to live to them, the whole world around, the so-called society, they would do their best to make you as miserable as you can get. You can immigrate, outside, as I did, or inside, as the neighbour friend did, but it won’t help much. It solves some issues, and may protect from the all-destroying madness of the people. But it won’t automatically make us writers, poets, and microbiologists. And there’s no guarantee that by a stretch of will, we’d be able to make it. There’s rather almost guaranteed we’d never be like Mr Margulis and Mr Golding. And even if we’d become someone similar, we’d need to make ten times the effort they did.
This thought haunts me for over a decade now. That’s what I’ve been telling my Bangkok friend Sebastian, who is German. Me, I had to do ten times the effort he did, just to sit on the same bench with him. That’s not to devalue him. And not to say I’m superior. It’s about completely different perspective, not who’s better, faster, stronger —
It’s about us, our right to be lazy asses and actually enjoying everyday life, for what it is. Not trying to be better, not trying at anything. And just being.
Oftentimes, it feels like it’s never the option. That generates too much stress. Mostly for no benefit. Just because people around, they decided it’s okay to be infantile idiots and never take responsibility for their own actions, not to say actions of others around.
I cannot relax here, on the territory once occupied by barbarians, savages. Even Ukraine, the great country, the great nation. Fighters. They’re not the slaves modern-day Belarusians are, yet they’re poisoned too. And that poison, it would take generations to heal. That poison is everywhere, and not everyone is aware of it.
That’s not the only reason it’s so difficult for me to relax, but is just one of them. I don’t feel like I can allow myself to stop, ever. I’d die. And I don’t want to. But the thing is, I don’t want to run as fast as I can. I just don’t want to die, maybe.
Well, yeah, that’s why I’m not leaving Ukraine. But not that it’s just all too easy, even for me, who have no mental constraints about relocation. And, again, I might never wanted to leave. Leaving is not the solution to the problem. I’d love to stay. It’s that I couldn’t.
Not many places I feel relaxed and at home. Scandinavia plus Finland are among them. Potentially Canada too, but I never managed to get there. Australia and New Zealand, I don’t know. More likely too.
But, again, not that I want to leave. I’d love to stay. I just want the peoples to believe these two men walking down the street, talking some theories through — I want the society to understand that magic is made exactly when some smart folks are allowed to not have to crunch, but be relaxed and having their headspace to think of not problems to solve, but things to create.
Amen.