Progress is a Life Worm
The myth of progress is the contemporary myth. It is the primary cornerstone of our current world-cycle’s form of consciousness. Beneath nearly all of our actions is the conditioned assumption that we’re heading somewhere. And, not only that, but that somewhere is defacto going to be better, faster, larger, greater, or more-er.
The notion of progress hides so many assumptions that we unwittingly, unconsciously agree to. Progress implies a direction, a destination, and a purpose. That purpose implies a progression to a better state. The assumption of a better state implies that we’re currently in a worse state. Progress, then, has unconsciously transformed the present moment into an always-already bad or worse state. Progress makes it so that the point of life is no longer to live, but to progress from point A to point B. And guess what happens when you arrive at point B? It’s already bad because, well, now you’re looking to progress to point C! And on and on it goes.
One might state that such a notion of progression largely applies to social, economic, and political policy, from which—many would argue—it makes sense. I know we’ve never collectively agreed on what better means, but, I mean, of course we want the world to be a better place…right? You can read John Michael Greer’s book on the topic or listen to me and Greer discuss his book for a broader discussion on that context of progress, but all that aside, I’m more interested in what this form of existence looks like on the micro-level, that is, within you and me, individuals.
Think about an average exchange between two people. It used to be more commonly the case that one side, at the beginning of the conversation, would ask the other side how they were: How are you? How’s life treating you? How’s it hanging? or What’s up? (remember these?) In turn, the other side, though rarely engaging in any depth, would at least mention something of their life and return the question in kind. It was, though admittedly a bit transparent, pleasant and warm. It appears that this form of interaction has gone almost entirely, and it is my position that progress is the cause.
When I engage in or witness such interactions today, between, say, shopkeepers and customers, doctors and patients, receptions and clients, etc. I have begun to notice that the interaction immediately homes in on the purpose. The person is at point A, and the only reason for the interaction is to get to point B. In fact, as someone who makes a conscious effort to ask people how they are and try to engage in their day in some way, I’ve found that the responses to anything outside of the progressive script are starkly binary. Either:
The person is pleasantly surprised by the fact I’m listening and engaging, and I can see, physically, the cogs turning in their mind as to how to deal with this non-progressive, non-utilitarian script-breaking. Often resulting in them lightly oversharing, possibly because no one listens or even asks anyone how they are anymore.
The person either replies automatically and in a monotone, as if having to deal with anything outside the script is a grievance, or, more often than not, they ignore the ‘addition’ entirely and simply repeat the question of their script
The common counter-argument to this is something like ‘Well [supermarkets, doctors, etc.] are there for a specific purpose, and we all know that, so this is really just about being honest and efficient.’ If this logic ‘makes sense’ to you, then, as far as I’m concerned, you have a life parasite. Because that logic is the very logic of progress itself. Everything has its progressive logic, its A to B, and anything outside of that logic is deemed: weird, quirky, needless, silly, a time waste, too much, romantic, sentimental, odd, strange, Yes, sure, but…, superfluous for purpose, eccentric, or maybe just too human.
Progress is a life worm. Yes, it is a brain worm in the traditional sense of that metaphor. That is, progress is a persistent obsession that dominates our thinking and is mightily difficult to remove. But it is equally a life worm, in the sense that it dominates and feeds off life. Notice that what is removed from various interactions due to the parasitic infection of progression is everything we could define as living. You no longer talk to the people in the waiting room or stop and smell the flowers because doing so is superfluous to purpose. Progress devours everything living and redefines it as needless to bolster its own logic. For progress, nothing between point A and point B matters, and so one rushes from point to point to point, in the search and worship of the next peak of betterment.
You can argue in defense of progress, and I’ll be the first to admit that you’ll do very well; in fact, you’ll almost certainly: win, succeed, and ultimately, *be right! because the very form of modern argument (X > Y) is largely the realm of progress. **Everything has its comfortable purpose, doesn’t it? We’re here for a reason! That’s just not what you do! And you move and progress and get better and increase and grow and plan, and oops, you’re dead!
In truth, there’s only one point A and one point B. Point A, and it sickens me to quantify it in this way, is right now; the ever-changing, ever-beautiful, and ever-perfect, only-ever-This present moment. Point B is death. You’re only ever progressing to one point, death.
I just can’t wait for the weekend…I just can’t wait to move…I just can’t wait for X to be over…I just can’t wait to change to Y…I just can’t wait to die!
Progress is a life worm that transforms its host into a lifeless automaton. Someone who can never see what is right in front of them because they’re already in the future. The frustrated businessman with all the money he’ll ever need, mentally eyeing up a promotion. The holiday-goer sat on the beach sipping a cocktail, anxious that this getaway might not be good enough. The bumbling boyfriend whose girlfriend is in tears in front of him and he’s wondering what eventual purchase might stop this. The stressed family settling the will around their not-really-but-apparently-already-dead-and-scared-grandma. The begrudging owner who’s worried about their dog’s death stench getting into the sofa. The depressed and regular Joe or Jane who has absolutely fucking everything they will ever need, who is sinking into a self-pitying pit of mentally negative entertainment whilst walking past flocks of tweeting birds!
What are you going to do, record everything on your phone and look back at it all on your deathbed?
How long can you go on like this, for goodness sake!
Give up!