Compost

Some time ago, I caught a show on the Discovery Channel entitled, "Life After People." It started, I think, as a one-time documentary on what would become of the world if/when humans were removed from the equation. Using a combination of known examples of decay and computer generations, the documentary revealed the startling power of nature to reclaim order. Given enough time, nothing is permanent.

Curiously, some of the early casualties are the very things that we might imagine to be most lasting. Buildings, roads, bridges... Known monuments such as the Eiffel Tower or the Golden Gate Bridge break down within the first century. Information on CD or DVD is lost faster than ancient etchings on clay. Concrete does better but plastic and stainless steel are the true survivors and gold.

The documentary was so successful that there are now mini-versions. The follow-up series takes a more in depth look at specific areas and how these will decay. What is interesting in these subsequent stories is the inclusion of real places that are already going through this... once thriving people-infested environments that have since been abandoned. Some of these sites are truly shocking. Within just twenty years, forests and swamps have returned. In certain environments, roads, playgrounds and even buildings have been vanquished. It appears that, given time, everything becomes dust and compost.

I am curious about the popularity of the series. Are we fascinated with the technology involved--seeing entire cities laid-waste through computer modeling? Are we simply dumbfounded by the prospect of a human-less world? Are we struck by the relatively short and ultimately vain nature of the human reign on earth? Or do we find a strange comfort in all this--an ironic peace in the revelation that we are not really the deal.

I must admit that I sometimes feel this way. I find a strange comfort in the fact that at some point I will be recycled in one way or another. Part of this is the weight of 45 years of inflicting myself on the planet. At some point, I will not be able to cause any more damage than I already have.

I realize that this sounds environmentally melodramatic and probably self-loathing. But this is not really what I mean. Of course, we all do some good and we all do some ill. We all make some kind of footprint and all that... I get that and, as humans, we have to sort of learn to live with that. But at the same time, I like the idea of whatever ill that I have done not being permanent. I like the starting over factor--not only for whatever lies ahead for my spirit but for everything else as well. I also think that at some point (although hopefully not any time soon), the earth would do well to reorder itself after the impact of billions of others who are probably a lot like me.