The Apocalypse

I'm exceedingly fond of Apocalyptic fiction and movies. It's not that I really want the world to end. Five minutes of watching what's going on in Haiti is enough to drive that point home. It's just that I like to imagine what the world would look like without all of the people. What would life be like if, suddenly, all of the complications of life became one simple goal . . . survival.

I like to think about the skills I have that would help me survive in case of Apocalypse. I can start a fire; that's good. I can crochet and sew by hand, handy skills to have if the world ends. I know how to garden . . . I'm not very good at it, but I imagine I could get by. I know a bit about woods and edible plants and tracking animals. I can cook, although I don't know how to butcher an animal or how to skin one. Maybe I should spend some time with friends who hunt and learn. I am constantly collecting knowledge that will be useful for me when the world ends. I know basic first aid. I know that you can make soap with lye, and you can get lye from wood ashes. I suppose in the apocalyptic world there would still be libraries and supermarkets. We could live on canned food for a time. We could read books to find other useful tips. Twinkies and Wonder Bread would probably survive the Apocalypse. We could eat those for a while.

I don't know anything about how to make electricity or how to fix a car or how sound waves work. I'm probably not alone in that. How prepared would we be as a people if we were pushed up against it? If we suddenly found ourselves without the comforts of home we enjoy every day without a second thought? I think about that when I contemplate the mid-west. Settlers came here on horse-drawn wagons. If their winters were anything like the one we have had this year, I cannot imagine how people survived. They had to build everything by hand and supply everything that was needed just for basic survival. How did they manage it all? I imagine there was no shortage of suffering.

Sometimes this modern life feels so complicated. All of this information at our finger tips; all of these opinions swirling around in the ethos. I suppose I long for simplicity. Wake up and chop wood and haul water. Survive. Do one thing at a time. Survive. Put things away where they belong and start all over the next day. Simplify and survive. I can handle that, in my imagination.