Gather yourselves: Climate Conversations V

The end of Climate Conversations is the beginning of the real process

It was fitting for Climate Conversations to wind up its five-session, eight-week process in the Abbey Theatre. Since its inception by W.B. Yeats and Lady Gregory in 1904, The Abbey’s artistic policy has set out “to produce… diverse, engaging, innovative Irish and international theatre”. Climate Conversations could be said to have set out to shape a “diverse, engaging and innovative” Irish response to an international – or rather, global – threat. Given the commitment to engage the creative thinking of the artistic community in the conversations, it was apt that the same artist who spoke at the opening session, Emily Robyn-Archer, returned to create an art piece on stage as this final conversation progressed. And it was fitting that the first speaker at the Abbey Theatre was an abbot.

Change the mythology

Mark Patrick Hederman, Abbot of Glenstal Abbey, reminisced about watching the first men walking on the moon – an event that “destroyed the many-thousand-year-old mythology about the moon – and about ourselves”. There was no man in the moon, he said. Like our earth, it was just “a piece of floating rock”. I was reminded of the famous “pale blue dot” photo of Earth from 6 billion kilometres away, of the mind-altering “overview effect” experienced by astronauts who have seen the planet from the outside. Now, Dom Hederman said, we have to change the mythology yet again, because “the whole wide world now placed in [our] hands is a hand grenade with the pin out, and the time-bomb of the twenty-first century is ticking away.” Continue reading


Camus at 100: “Live to the point of tears”

The absurdist philosophy of Albert Camus held that life had inherent worth, even if it had no inherent meaning  – a notion that has important parallels in approaching depression and suicide.

Camus, 1957. Credit: Robert Edwards
Camus, 1957. Credit: Robert Edwards

But for the absurd existence of a tree, Albert Camus may or may not have celebrated his 100th birthday last week. That might seem a glib way to reference a man’s tragic death, but somehow, I think Camus would have approved. He may even have thought it particularly apt that, given his philosophy, he should have his existence so abruptly and randomly snuffed out.

A French-Algerian novelist, playwright, journalist, essayist, philosopher and revolutionary, Albert Camus is a hero to me. Without any hyperbole or exaggeration, his words – and the fervid thought behind them – changed my life for good. The ambiguity of that last word is deliberate. It may seem odd to say my life was changed for the good by someone who held that life was meaningless. But that is the point. For Camus, life is good precisely despite its meaninglessness.

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