daily wisdom.

Meaninglessness often appears to originate from external sources. We anticipate discovering meaning in our professions, hobbies, travels, and relationships, and we often attribute our feelings of meaninglessness to the world’s failure to live up to its promises.

However, meaninglessness is not something we find externally; it’s an internal creation. It emerges from within and perpetuates itself. In reality, meaninglessness is a battle we wage against ourselves.

Meaninglessness is a subtle adversary. It employs various tactics to prevent you from relishing your life, facing the world as it is, and taking the necessary actions. It can be deceptive, exaggerating, contradictory, distorting, coercive, enticing, and seductive. It takes on any guise necessary to make life appear futile. It can pose as your most reasonable confidant or your unwelcome neighbor who disrupts your peace ²⁴⁄₇. If you accept meaninglessness at face value, it can lead you astray. In truth, meaninglessness is consistently in the wrong and utterly deceptive.

Meaninglessness is impersonal. It doesn’t target individuals personally because it doesn’t know or care about your identity. It seeks to infiltrate anyone who opens the door through doubt, a lack of values and personal philosophies, or the absence of overarching narratives. Meaninglessness is a natural force, a shared human experience. It operates impartially.

Although it may appear as a fierce adversary, meaninglessness behaves with the dispassion of a mosquito. When we engage in a battle against it, we must remember that it doesn’t single out individuals personally but affects all of us.

In recent years, there has been a growing recognition of the importance of integrating indigenous wisdom into the environmental movement. This recognition is grounded in compelling reasons: despite representing less than 5% of the global population, indigenous communities protect 80% of the Earth’s biodiversity in the forests, deserts, grasslands, and marine environments in which they have lived for centuries.

What distinguishes these communities is not just their ability to survive but also their capacity to thrive within functional societies marked by strong social bonds. They also seem to live in profound harmony with the natural world, unburdened by the pressures of modern life.

An idealized representation of this harmonious existence can be found in the movie “Avatar.” The Na’vi are deeply embedded in their environment, their minds actually seem to extend towards and into the environment. They are so tuned in to life, that they are able to do what seems usually impossible: jumping in great heights from one tree to another, knowing that they will be held, that they can trust in the world.

Interestingly, there is a phenomenon of post-Avatar depression. “Post-Avatar depression” is not a medically recognized condition but rather a term coined informally to describe a phenomenon where some individuals experience feelings of sadness, longing, or a sense of loss after watching the movie “Avatar.” The term suggests that the movie’s portrayal of an idealized, harmonious, and ecologically connected world resonates so strongly with certain viewers that they feel a sense of discontent or even depression when returning to their everyday lives, which may be perceived as less fulfilling or disconnected from nature.

To some extent, I can relate to this feeling. It underscores the cultural longing for a way of life that seems deeply appealing, and for good reasons. Our world is in need of alternative ways of knowing, being, and acting in the world. Many Indigenous cultures embrace an animist worldview that imbues the entire universe with vitality, deriving meaning and wisdom from the natural world — plants, animals, and landscapes. This perspective sees the world not as a collection of lifeless atoms but as a vibrant tapestry teeming with life and meaning.

Indigenous knowledge also offers a holistic perspective on environmental issues. It recognizes the interconnectedness of ecosystems, understanding that the health of the land, water, plants, animals, and people are all interdependent. Many also have a deep respect for biodiversity and have developed conservation practices that protect and promote diverse species of plants and animals. This comprehensive view can provide valuable insights into sustainable land and resource management as well as invaluable for biodiversity conservation efforts.

Moreover, indigenous knowledge systems have stood the test of time, having evolved over generations. They contain traditional practices and wisdom about sustainable agriculture, resource conservation, and environmental stewardship that have proven effective in maintaining ecosystems.

Indigenous knowledge is also highly localized and adapted to specific ecological and cultural contexts. By incorporating this knowledge into sustainability solutions, it becomes possible to develop region-specific strategies that consider the unique characteristics of a particular environment or community.

Yet, despite the potential, there is a challenge in integrating indigenous wisdoms. Just as we can’t expect plants to thrive when uprooted and placed somewhere new, a philosophy can’t be uprooted and thrive when planted elsewhere without nurturing. A philosophy, taken out of context, is not practical. Taking indigenous philosophies without re-rooting them in our western, educated, industrialized, rich, and democratic (WEIRD) world — as Henrich calls them— might help to a certain degree.

Still, their knowledge won’t flourish if it’s not adapted to the soil and the environment it lands in. Just as plants, philosophies have to be rooted in the environment. They need to be contextualized — of time and space and relationships.

How then can indigenous philosophies grow roots in our backyards? What are the nutrients philosophy needs to thrive? How can the spores from indigenous philosophies impregnate ours?

Nourishing the Spores of Indigenous Philosophies

There are two main challenges for indigenous philosophies to root and flourish in our WEIRD world.

Embracing Existential Transformation:

Our profound philosophical disparities with indigenous wisdom necessitate a significant existential transformation of our ways of knowing, being, and acting in the world to integrate their perspectives into our Western worldview.

This transformation, despite the romanticized notions of a deep connection with the more-than-human world, can be intensely discomforting. It involves letting go not only of our individual identities but also the illusion of control and human exceptionalism. We need to acknowledge our humble origins in the earth and our eventual return to it.

“Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

It’s much easier to quote indigenous wisdoms and to claim their validity than it is to embed them ecologically. Rooting indigenous philosophies first requires rooting ourselves in our ecological niche. This process demands unlearning the sensory limitations imposed by late-stage capitalism and realigning ourselves with our local environments. However, this endeavor is neither swift nor necessarily enjoyable.

There’s a common misconception that returning to ecological awareness is all about pleasurable experiences like forest bathing and appreciating pristine beauty in perfect harmony with the more-than-human world. But rooting into our environment can be an incredibly uncomfortable experience. Only through existential discomfort can we tune into our ecological niche. Just like exercise, the first experience is of discomfort. Ultimately, such discomfort is productive, muscles grow, and endorphins release.

Letting Go of the Self:

Rooting indigenous wisdoms also requires that we let go of ourselves. We are not confined by our bodies’ boundaries. In fact, on an atomic level, it is difficult to distinguish where your body ends and where your environment begins. This calls for embracing a broader concept of self that extends beyond our individual bodies.

In reality, our sense of self is intertwined with others. This isn’t just philosophical; it’s practical. Every breath we take incorporates elements from our environment, such as dust and pollen. To rejuvenate our lived experiences with embedded ecological-ness, we must expand our perception of self to encompass these intra-species relationships. Physical boundaries are superficial, everything overflows into everything else.

As we become more aware that our bodies extend beyond our skin’s perimeters and into our ecosystems, we recognize that our actions, like polluting rivers and harming the soil, harm our own bodies. Gaining a better understanding of ongoing environmental harm and its direct impact on our interconnected web of lived experiences is more challenging and, frankly, scarier than individual pursuits of well-being and happiness.

When we lean into our ecological embeddedness and expand our notion of self accordingly, our sense of happiness begins to transcend its contemporary socio-cultural construct. Our perspectives on pleasure and pain undergo radical transformations — we cease to find pleasure in what harms. Liberated from the illusion of an indifferent universe inhabited by isolated, atomized selves, we can begin to nurture a vibrant and communal environment where indigenous philosophies can take root and flourish.

Conclusion

Genuine transformation is often accompanied by discomfort, akin to the ‘growing pains’ of personal growth. While indigenous philosophies offer invaluable insights for our journey toward a regenerative society, it’s crucial to avoid idealizing it as a simple wellness retreat to “the wild”. Rather, our task is to nurture the fertile soil in which these philosophies can take root and thrive to their fullest potential.

Transitioning from a conventional to a post-conventional stage in moral development is a journey that demands a deeper understanding of ethical principles and a greater willingness to challenge and transcend societal norms. It requires daily philosophical reflection, and in my experience, three practices can facilitate this transition:

1. Self-Reflection: Start by examining your own moral beliefs and values. Reflect on why you hold certain moral principles and whether they are rooted in societal norms or deeply held personal convictions. Tools like journaling or meditation can be invaluable for self-reflection.

2. Engage in Ethical Dilemmas: Actively seek out ethical dilemmas and grapple with them. Discuss moral issues with others, read philosophical texts, and watch documentaries or movies that challenge your ethical perspectives. Exposure to diverse viewpoints can stimulate critical thinking.

3. Explore Post-Conventional Thinkers: Immerse yourself in the writings of philosophers and thinkers who exemplify post-conventional moral reasoning, such as Immanuel Kant, John Stuart Mill, or Jean Piaget. Their works can inspire and offer valuable insights into post-conventional moral thinking.

Lastly, it’s crucial that we contribute to changing the systems to facilitate post-conventional stages. When these systems are in place, less responsibility rests on our individual shoulders.

The shift from conventional to post-conventional moral development is a gradual process that demands time and effort. While it won’t occur overnight, the rewards are substantial: aligning your personal satisfaction and happiness with the greater good. It’s about resolving the inner conflict between what provides instant gratification and what is genuinely ethical.

As I’ve personally experienced, achieving these moments of alignment is incredibly rewarding, and with consistent self-reflection and engagement with post-conventional thinkers, the journey becomes more manageable. So, as you embark on this path, remember that it’s a marathon, not a sprint — take pleasure in the process and appreciate the progress you make along the way.

The link between Kohlberg’s theory of moral development and hedonism lies in the progression of individuals through these moral stages. Initially, individuals are primarily driven by immediate, tangible pleasures, such as the pursuit of personal happiness and the avoidance of discomfort. However, as they advance through the stages, their moral reasoning becomes more intricate, encompassing a broader perspective that extends beyond personal pleasure. They shift their focus towards more abstract forms of pleasure, such as the satisfaction derived from moral integrity and the adherence to deeply held ethical principles.

In a way, one could argue that the shift from hedonism to a more eudemonic approach is a natural progression that individuals tend to follow as they grow older. Unfortunately, this isn’t always the case in society, where many argue that we remain stuck in an adolescent phase.

Drawing from my own experiences, I don’t hold anyone at fault for this. Even when striving to act morally, it’s easy to become disheartened, feeling as though our efforts yield no meaningful change. The world seems vast, and there are numerous individuals entrenched in an adolescent mindset. It’s almost like attempting to play bridge at a 16th birthday party when you’re 80. Initially, you try to win everyone over, then you attempt to go it alone. When those approaches fail, you might find yourself dancing to Taylor Swift while sipping a vodka-energy drink.

Unfortunately, the societal structures we’ve constructed often hinder our progress beyond the conventional level; in fact, they frequently perpetuate and reinforce hedonistic patterns. Our consumerist culture, for instance, is deeply rooted in hedonism.

So, what steps can we take to move beyond hedonism? How can we transition from a conventional to a post-conventional stage to overcome the limitations of hedonism?

On a personal level, I’ve encountered considerable challenges in moving beyond some of my hedonistic pleasures. To make this transition more manageable, I’ve established a set of stringent principles, such as wearing the same outfit every day to counteract my shopping tendencies. While my aim is to base my decisions and lifestyle on post-conventional morals, I acknowledge that I’m not there yet.

Let me introduce Lawrence Kohlberg and his model of moral development to explore hedonism in a more nuanced manner. Kohlberg’s theory of moral development delineates six stages, organized into three levels: pre-conventional, conventional, and post-conventional.

Pre-conventional Level: In the initial stage of moral development, individuals operate predominantly from a self-centered perspective. Their decisions are guided by obedience and fear of punishment (Stage 1) or self-interest and personal gain (Stage 2). At this stage, people’s choices are often driven by the pursuit of pleasure and the avoidance of pain, aligning with the hedonistic principle of seeking immediate personal gratification.

Conventional Level: In the second level, individuals begin to consider societal norms and expectations when making moral decisions. They aim to meet social and interpersonal obligations. Stage 3 focuses on seeking approval and nurturing positive relationships, while Stage 4 emphasizes the importance of following rules and laws to maintain social order. Though these stages may appear less hedonistic on the surface, they still involve a degree of seeking pleasure (approval, harmony, order) and avoiding pain (disapproval, conflict, chaos) as motivations for moral behavior.

Post-conventional Level: The third level of moral development introduces more intricate and abstract moral principles. In Stage 5, individuals recognize the significance of social contracts and the necessity to uphold them for the greater good, even if it means personal sacrifice. In Stage 6, the highest level, people adhere to universal ethical principles, even if they conflict with societal norms. While these stages may seem less hedonistic, they involve a different form of seeking pleasure: the satisfaction of moral integrity and a sense of purpose derived from adhering to deeply held ethical principles. For astute readers, you’ll notice that this description aligns with eudemonic pleasure, which is rooted in the pursuit of meaning and virtue.

It’s a perplexing paradox that what often feels undeniably good – indulging in hedonistic pleasures such as parties, savoring chocolate, traveling, or shopping – may not genuinely contribute to our individual well-being or the greater good of society.

Hedonism, as a philosophy, revolves around the pursuit of immediate pleasure and happiness rather than delaying gratification. This concept has been debated for centuries. Some, like the Stoics, argue that this pursuit doesn’t lead to a good life. However, from personal experience, I can attest that hedonism can indeed offer deep fulfillment and meaning.

A pivotal moment frequently arrives when we begin to genuinely care about personal and planetary health. For me, this transformation occurred when environmental concerns took center stage in my mind.

The majority of hedonistic pursuits don’t align with healthy ecosystems, societal well-being, or personal health. This is primarily due to the fact that contemporary hedonistic pleasure, as commonly practiced, heavily relies on consumption. Such consumption not only depletes resources but also generates waste. And last time I checked, indulgences like alcohol and chocolate aren’t typically found on lists of the top 100 healthiest foods.

As a result, those advocating for hedonism as a valid life philosophy may find their position challenged, particularly in today’s context. In reality, contemporary hedonism, as it’s practiced, is no longer a sustainable life strategy. It adversely affects both humans and non-humans, contributing to various societal and environmental problems.

However, if shifting away from hedonism implies adopting a life of renunciation, it’s essential to consider that this too may not necessarily lead to a good life. One of the main arguments for hedonism is that it aligns with our inherent human desire for pleasure and happiness. From the earliest stages of life, the pursuit of comfort, joy, and satisfaction is a fundamental aspect of our existence. If any of you have ever lived with a toddler, you can’t deny that the pursuit of pleasure is all the rage, all day, every day.

Seated on a weathered stump in a Berlin park, I waited patiently as my dog explored his curiosities, delving into scents and stories beyond my comprehension. My thoughts wandered, ensnared by the absence of something when a common sparrow made an appearance.

Sparrows, those unassuming inhabitants of urban landscapes, have always fascinated me with their boldness. Often seen darting close to people, they audaciously pilfer crumbs from diners’ plates. This one sized me up, as if in search of stray breadcrumbs, forming an unspoken connection between our species.

Then, in an unexpected moment, I ceased to be an observer and instead became the sparrow. For the briefest of moments, my consciousness merged with the bird. It was a tranquil and unremarkable experience. The boundary between the sparrow and myself dissolved. It no longer mattered whether I was “I” or “it.” I wasn’t merely witnessing the sparrow; I was the sparrow. And as swiftly as this sensation arrived, it departed.

I often find that encounters with the more-than-human world offer some of the most captivating moments in my life.

But why is that?

In 1984, Edward O. Wilson introduced the concept of “biophilia,” suggesting that humans possess an innate, genetically encoded connection with the natural world. This theory posits that our survival historically relied on forming connections with non-human life forms, leading to our deep-seated bond with nature, from landscapes to animals and plants. “Biophilia” translates to “love of life or living systems.” According to Wilson, our instinctive affection for life and lifelike processes clarifies our attraction to non-humans, the soothing nature of gardens, aquariums, and forests, and the rejuvenation we experience after a walk in the woods.

Current research corroborates the importance of our link to the natural world. Activities like forest bathing, observing trees in hospitals, and interacting with animals have been shown to enhance our well-being, affirming our innate drive to seek what bolsters our survival.

From a scientific perspective, this concept offers a logical explanation for our fascination with the non-human world, portraying it as an evolutionary mechanism designed to ensure our survival.

However, despite the fascination of this research, it appears to miss the mark.

This line of thinking carries some underlying assumptions:

Non-humans are only relevant insofar as they benefit humans. Encounters like the one with the sparrow are fantastical and futile. Humans can exploit non-humans for their gain. The sole connection between humans and non-humans is functional. Essentially, humans are biological machines governed by biochemical laws. As Descartes emphasized, creation is divided into two substances: mind (or soul) and mere matter. While humans possess minds and souls, the rest of creation, including the human body, is inert, unthinking matter. This Cartesian worldview reduces creation to ‘nature’. In my view, a significant challenge we face is overcoming this disenchanted worldview and rekindling our connection with the non-human world.

Eco-philosopher Timothy Morton contends that reenchantment lies ahead, dismissing the notion that something—an enchanted sensibility—has been lost in the past and can be recaptured. Morton suggests that enchantment emerges when we confront puzzling and enigmatic situations that challenge our current understanding, potentially transforming our perception of the world. To be enchanted is to encounter something both real and uncanny, weird, mysterious, or awe-inspiring.

In contrast to the scientific perspective, animism offers a more enchanted worldview. It centers on the idea that all objects, places, and creatures possess a distinct spiritual essence or consciousness. In this perspective, the world is an interconnected tapestry where humans, animals, plants, and even inanimate objects like rocks or rivers each have spirits or souls.

In his book “Less is More,” Jason Hickel delves into the worldview of the Achuar, an indigenous ethnic group residing primarily in the Amazon rainforest of Ecuador and Peru. According to Hickel, the Achuar perceive most of the jungle’s plants and animals as having souls (wakan) akin to those of humans, categorizing them as literal “persons” (aents). In the eyes of the Achuar, plants and animals are considered relatives.

At this moment, my curiosity revolves around discovering a worldview that harmoniously combines animism with science, or what Scout Rainer Wiley terms “metamodern animism.” This perspective avoids idealizing the past or the more-than-human world while embracing wonder, mystery, and awe to re-enchant our world. It’s a worldview that takes my encounter with the sparrow seriously.

Donald Winnicott introduced the concept of the “good enough parent” as a response to the onslaught of “expert” parenting advice, encouraging individuals to trust their natural instincts, which have sufficed for humanity’s survival until this day.

Considering the challenges posed by climate change, social injustice, species extinction, and the numerous crises confronting us, the concept of “good enough” seems elusive. Regardless of our efforts, it often feels like our actions are insufficient. We might engage in recycling, cease air travel, become politically active, work within NGOs, purchase secondhand items, and adopt vegan diets. Yet, our carbon footprint still exceeds our equitable share, and our political endeavors yield minimal progress. It can be a truly exhausting experience.

When grappling with this sense of inadequacy, I can’t help but ponder the multitude of actions I, and others, could undertake to benefit the planet. The urgency of the situation impels me to demand more of myself and others, as it seems undeniably necessary.

The essence of the “good enough” concept, as advocated by Winnicott, resonates with me. It provides me with a way to contend with the perpetual need to do more and allows me to adjust my expectations of others who are similarly navigating these challenges.

The root of this sense of inadequacy can often be traced back to the feeling of not being enough. We attempt to compensate for this deficiency through ceaseless action. However, it’s evident that such an approach is unsustainable. To attain a state of harmonious self-acceptance, it’s vital to recognize when our efforts are “good enough.” This recognition hinges upon acknowledging that we, as individuals, are enough.

Nevertheless, merely telling myself or conveying to you that we are enough remains insufficient. I comprehend the concept intellectually, but true understanding transcends this. It’s an embodiment, an inherent part of our being, something we put into action and extend to the world.

In my pursuit of being “good enough” for myself and in a broader sense, I’ve adopted a practice: I acknowledge my sense of inadequacy whenever it surfaces. When I feel that what I’m doing is not enough, I greet this feeling like a friendly neighbor. I offer a cordial hello, listen to its stories, and then let it go without getting emotionally entangled.

Being good enough, both individually and collectively, doesn’t mean we cease our efforts. It signifies embracing the understanding that on certain days, the sky might not be the limit, but the roof over our heads is.

An effective way to determine the importance of our choices is to put ourselves in the shoes of a trusted friend. For instance, if my dearest friends were to seek my guidance:

“Jes, I really want to purchase a laminator. I think I need it to preserve the beautiful note cards I create, some photos, and other printed materials. Should I go ahead with it?”

In all honesty, I would advise against it.

On the other hand, if a close friend were to express their desire for a bus to embark on a lifelong dream of a European adventure, I’d be more understanding. I know that this has been their dream, and I’d support it, even while I maintain my awareness of the environmental and social concerns associated with such travel. It’s crucial to respect what holds personal importance for them.

Henceforth, I’ve made it a practice to thoroughly assess whether my desires genuinely align with what I deem important. It’s evident that detaching from the unimportant is a pivotal step towards ushering in a more socially and ecologically just future.

Reflecting on this, in an ideal world, we wouldn’t be burdened with making these moral decisions. In an ideal scenario, our consumption choices wouldn’t harm our planet. Hans Joachim Schellnhuber from the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research (PIK) suggests that individuals should be allocated a yearly carbon budget of 3 tons. This approach would compel us to scrutinize what truly matters to us. While the debate around the pros and cons of such budgets continues, since their widespread adoption seems unlikely in the near future, we can adopt the concept of a personal carbon budget to help us determine what genuinely holds significance in our lives.

I was recently invited to speak to university students studying sustainability in Sweden. The session was intended to be interactive, and the organizers specifically mentioned that I was one of the few people who not only research sustainability but also actively live and practice it. I eagerly anticipated sharing my insights with these bright, young students, most of whom were in their twenties. I decided to craft visually appealing slides, breaking away from the usual text-heavy academic style, hoping that the students would find my practical experiences intriguing.

However, it became evident that my approach wasn’t as engaging as I’d hoped. While the students were curious and open to the discussion, I couldn’t help but feel out of place, or as I perceived it, somewhat “uncool.” In that moment, I felt like the older generation reminiscing about the virtues of growing one’s own peas. It was an eye-opening experience, highlighting an observation I’ve had throughout my journey in the sustainability field - sustainability is often considered aesthetically unappealing.

Before I delve deeper into this, it’s worth noting that the antiquated image of the stereotypical ecological hippie in Birkenstocks with dreadlocks is outdated. Concepts like tiny houses, minimalist lifestyles, zero-waste products, and sustainable fashion have successfully made sustainability beautiful. However, these trends are predominantly rooted in capitalist structures, primarily revolving around consumption. Even minimalism, which advocates for simplicity, can endorse specific minimalist products, such as the ideal travel dress, contributing to the cycle.

The sustainability I’m deeply interested in goes beyond these surface-level changes; it’s about transforming fundamental structures, cultivating alternative ways of understanding, being, and taking action that redefines our relationships with ourselves, other beings (human and non-human), the universe, and everything in between. Concepts like “Mother Nature,” “GAIA,” “kinship,” “kindness,” and “compassion” are integral to this, and they resonate with me on a profound level.

But there’s an “and yet.” These concepts, though significant, often lack an element of sensuality or allure. Take “Mother Nature,” for instance; it’s not a concept that tends to spark romantic attraction. The vocabulary surrounding environmentalism, sustainability, or regeneration is often lacking in sensuality. Even when they promise a harmonious existence with the natural world, it’s worth considering whether perfect harmony might diminish the eroticism of the relationship. If being an environmentalist were associated with a certain sensuality or desire, perhaps a greater appeal for ecologically friendly behaviors would follow.

When I think of the life I aspire to live, it’s one filled with allure - a life where I’m captivated by the world, by every being I encounter. In my experience, the most joyous way to exist is when I’m akin to having a crush on everyone and everything I come across. When I’m deeply infatuated with someone, it fills me with energy, kindness, generosity, patience, and a sense of humor that can laugh in the face of challenges. It’s this vibrant, “crush-worthy” aspect of life that I seek. What if sustainability, environmentalism, or regeneration could offer that kind of allure?

In some circles, there’s a notion of “nature as a lover” that ties into the field of queer ecology, exploring the intersection between queer theory and environmentalism. While this approach does bridge a crucial gap in the environmental movement, it still may not completely address the aesthetic gap.

Another perspective comes from eco-philosopher Andreas Weber, who connects love and the erotic to ecology, framing love as a practice of enlivenment. He describes the erotic as a genuine life principle that pulses through the bodies of all life forms. This premise focuses on our inherent erotic desire for the more-than-human world.

However, the broader question remains: how can we make sustainability, environmentalism, or regeneration alluring? How can we nurture the sensuality and desire inherent in our connections with the natural world? Instead of providing definitive answers, I’d like to leave this as an open question for contemplation. Perhaps by immersing ourselves in this question, we can begin to transform our relationship with environmentalism from a moral obligation into an innate desire.