This is a very personal piece. It stems from thinking about the kind of future we have and how dystopian it may well be. The prospect of some kind of societal collapse, quite possibly manipulated for nefarious ends, has to be considered. As I have to live with a minor disability which I can currently manage with the aid of outside supplies, I have to consider what would happen should those supplies be terminated as a result of societal collapse. This is something that’s been preying on my mind for over a year now. It’s something I need to face up to, deal with and ultimately, accept.
On my next birthday, I’ll have been on this mortal coil for three score years and ten. The point has been reached where I’m starting to contemplate the end. I have to be honest with myself in that if I’m lucky, I’ve probably got ten to fifteen years left and that will be it. Twenty years? That will take me to ninety and, with the way the world is sliding towards dystopia, I’m not entirely sure I’ll still want to be around at that point.
With my political writing and the research I undertake to inform that, it’s become all too clear that as a retiree, I’m viewed by those who presume to rule over us as little more than a useless eater with assets to be plundered to feed their evil machine. This is against the background of an AI ‘revolution’ that will make millions of people who currently assume they have secure jobs, redundant. Somehow, once they’re redundant, they will have to be ‘managed’ in such a way that they don’t kick off. That’s until some kind of ‘solution’ can be devised that will quietly shuffle them off this mortal coil without it being obvious what’s being done to them.
Being a retiree who will have been around for three score years and ten by my next birthday, I’m acutely aware that when it comes to quietly shuffling those deemed redundant to our techno-fascist overlords off of this mortal coil, I’m pretty much at the front of the queue. Needless to say, with my political activity, I’m doing my level best to fight against this. However, short of a major uprising, the likelihood of which is uncertain to say the least, I have to accept that my lifespan may be somewhat limited. Particularly if the supply of intermittent catheters I rely upon to empty my bladder get seriously disrupted or worse, permanently terminated as a result of the societal collapse some of the doom sayers are predicting. Then to put it bluntly, I would be utterly screwed and looking for a way out.
That’s a bloody grim prospect isn’t it? It’s one that should leave me cowed, fearful and actually wanting to end it as soon as possible. No… That would gives the bastards who presume to rule over us a satisfaction they do not deserve. I don’t intend to give the bastards that satisfaction. For whatever years may or may not be left, despite my minor disability and the inevitable wear and tear on my body, I intend to get the most out of life.
That’s not in a blow it all away without a care in the world kind of way. Just to find out that hey, things have turned out okay in the end but, I’ve no cash left! It’s about making the most of the seemingly small small and minor things, that when you start to pay attention and appreciate them, are incredibly life enhancing.
It’s watching both of our grandchildren grow and develop as personalities – even when they’re trying to pull a fast one upon us! It’s the hugs and cuddles with my wife – particularly the ones at bedtime:) It’s the way that me and my wife can still make each other laugh with our shared sense of humour, albeit it’s ‘us versus the world’.
It’s the friendly interactions and chats in the independent shops we support in Keynsham. It’s the warm welcome we get when we enter the local pubs and cafes we frequent It’s feeling rooted in and identifying with where we live. It’s about having a sense of belonging and community.
It’s about turning around from where I’m typing this on a late summer evening to watch the sunset. It’s being up early enough in the morning during the Bristol International Balloon Festival to watch the balloons coming over to Keynsham and landing in the field below my flat, and also on Keynsham Hams.
It’s having a short break in nearby, unpretentious Burnham-on-Sea and appreciating long walks along the beach and standing on the promenade watching the sun go down over the Bristol Channel. It’s appreciating the countryside that surrounds us and how that changes with the passage of the seasons and also, the weather. It’s watching the birds of prey circling high up in the sky above Cleeve Wood. It’s walking through Meadow Wood and glimpsing a roe deer disappearing into the trees. It’s walking into Meadow Wood to celebrate the calming presence of our favourite old oak tree:
The old oak in the woods On a bright Spring day, the two of us came to these woods We came seeking escape from the madness of the world We came seeking connection with nature that would heal us And...we came seeking re-connection with each other We stopped at the old oak to rest awhile under her boughs We looked at her twisted, gnarled branches and trunk in wonder We wondered about the history she has seen over the years And all of the wisdom she has gathered in that time We touched her bark and branches, seeking connection We felt a calming energy that brought us together We felt the cares of the world lift from our shoulders Restored, we slowly walked away, thankful for her presence
It’s about not just making the best of what we have but also, celebrating it. Particularly the sense of community and belonging. That’s doing so in defiance of the soulless, techno-fascist bastards presuming to rule over us, who would happily deny us all of this. They want us atomised, fearful, divorced from nature and subservient to their despotic will. As long as there’s a breath in my body, I will defy the bastards who want to drain the last bit of joy and hope from our lives.
Should the slide into dystopia accelerate and there’s some kind of societal breakdown, I know I could lose all of the above pretty much in an instant. There would be an agonising period of hellish suffering before I realised that’s it, I may possibly be left with no option but to find a way out. I sincerely hope the doom sayers have got it wrong and with all that may be coming our way, we can get through to the other side. For sure, I’ll be doing what I can to bring about the kind of radical change where power is with us, the people, at the grassroots. However despite all of this, I know that I need to be mentally prepared for the worst. It’s being prepared for the worst but also, trying to get the best out of each day as it comes that will be informing my outlook on life and also, my activism.
I share your thoughts a lot, but as a fellow 60+ I feel like I’ve had a good innings…my big concern is to try and pass on wisdom to the generations that will literally live in a dystopia.
Never EVER say die. I'm 7 years older than you, and I tell people I'll need to last till 120 to read all the books I've got. By which time I'll have both knees replaced, both hips, most of my back, and probably be horizontal entirely, but I'll still be fucking reading!