Living Your Best Apocalypse

Photo by Hanny Naibaho on Unsplash

Unlike some new to the game, I’ve been writing about our systems apocalypse for some years now. I’ve done the work, fleshing out the intersections of control seeking cultural memes that tried to convince us that through consumerism all would work out fine.

I did my cross comparative narrative, aligning the feminine body, to the feminine Earth, spicing it up with the return of the “feminine” brain that graphic based technologies have helped ressucitate. I have done the work to make sure that I and anyone reading or listening understands that the ultimate God is nowhere without a Goddess and by virtue of many reasons, the most powerful Goddess to revere is Black.

Moore’s Law ensures we are experiencing profound irreversible global revolution and that yes, you are now an avatar as much as you are a body. And all that feminism? That’s just a doorway to transhumanism, but not a reductive one. And today’s transgenderism? It’s like baby steps to a whole new level of consciousness that in a few decades will mesh into something way more than simple trans-gender. These aren’t judgements, they’re truths based on monoculture and mono-everything not being sustainable, desirable or life giving.

These aren’t predictions of course, they’re all in the data and trend reports, and if you have the time we can spend an afternoon going through those wormholes, no problem. Of course, it’s not all loss of personal identity and biological markers in the apocalypse, not at all. It’s not just forest fires and displacement and being a constant refugee, but you might just join the millions upon millions of humans and animals for whom that is truth, and if you do, you’ll have to get comfortable with this reality.

If you are new here, I’ll tell you, the apocalypse is a blender. It’s also a threshold, a way to mark the passage of epochs — and epochs — they’re really big. So, call the shift the Anthropocene, call it the first few decades of no return on climate change, call it the “Make Earth Great Again” campaign. Call the apocalypse whatever you want, but quit trying to control it. Quit trying to give or get a leg up on it by navel-gazing around whether its the correct term or not. Don’t let anyone else take you there, into that place of wondering if using the word will make you popular at parties. You haven’t gone to a real party in months, since before the pandemic — or have you?

Live your best apocalypse by taking it very seriously and by not taking yourself too seriously. Live your best apocalypse by knowing that yes, indeed, this is a time of fire and brimstone and apparently all the best books on the topic either don’t have clear guidelines or they just dissolve into final chapters that sound like they were written by someone in a psychedelic fever dream. Live your most relevant apocalypse by not giving up by writing your own mini-chapter each week. It’s really that simple.

Yes you can write your own books, start your own pasta based or similar religion, you can start a political party, become a pirate, and most definitely you can wage a huge revolution meant to fulfill all your biggest fantasies. “Do you” if you want to do the apocalypse well. Bedazzle it in your own unique way. Cover it in the rhinestones of your tears, make it into your very own house coat of technicolor dreams lost but not forgotten. Yes, I might have taken us to a place somewhere straddling Dollywood and the Bible, but that’s exactly the point: the apocalypse requires imagination, and deep diving into your own psyche. No two apocalypses look alike. No two apocalypses share the same playlist.

The apocalypse is so big it might as well be as small as a snowflake, or a grain of sand on a lush tropical beach currently heading for a few millennia underwater. The apocalypse is so shockingly large that each of us are merely players and we know what happens to them: sound and fury and a bunch of idiots dictating the story. But seriously, the apocalypse is not small, but it might as well be, because it is just that huge. It’s too huge to be seen properly by any one person. It’s too bigly to be controlled by even the strongest cabal of thieving despots. It’s too complex for you to be played when the cupboard is bare of toilet paper and the neighbor is packing a handgun that is luckily empty because of the ammunition shortage. Understand, you will have to be an author, a creator, an influencer of yourself and for yourself; because that’s the only person you can trust and share with others. You have to trust yourself and listen, like a functioning schizophrenic, to your inner voice(s).

To live your best apocalypse you have to give into the wild ride that it is. You have to make space in yourself to be kind and strong, to forge superpowers out of things you once thought mundane. You have to give space for the world and its calendar right now because no matter what — you get tired sometimes and happy others and even when you are blind with anger, some hopeful piece of you sees something on the other side — and knows that you will never see it fully during your lifetime. So maybe that’s it, to live your best apocalypse keep one eye on the prize of a better time that comes together like a huge puzzle and two feet if you have them, on the ground because these pieces can be heavy and oddly shaped and to get things assembled is going to take some heavy lifting.

xo

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Artist. Poet. Apocalypse rider. Lover of regeneration.

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Mariette Papic

Mariette Papic

Artist. Poet. Apocalypse rider. Lover of regeneration.

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