1991

I have to get some sleep", says Ethan, yawning. "i'll show you to your room", says Carl getting up.  To the rest of us he says, "You guys, there are plenty of vacant rooms on this floor with beds all made up.  Christopher, could you help them please?" Once they are out of the room, Kenny turns to me and whispers, "Did you see what I just saw?" "I saw it too", says Erik,   "the green and gold robes.  That was the same person or being we saw at the refuge." We are all just completely lost for words.  We just stare stupidly into space, daring not to say anything further.  Then, reaching for the jug of milk, I say demurely, "More milk, anyone?" Erik reaches for the chocolate chips..  "You're not finished yet?" wonders Kenny, with a huge emphasis on the word yet."I guess so long as chocolate doesn't keep us up all night." "You guys ready to turn in" say I. "We should wait for Carl to come back", says Erik...

1990

We are speechless, breathless, and gobsmacked.  and now the presence that is emanating from this young man, this young man who is in reality more than seventeen hundred years old, confirms that we are not being regaled by some random bike dude we picked up along the way, but a minister and representative straight from the holy of holies.  Tron is radiant, his amber eyes flashing with divine fire and again his shorts and T-shirt are transformed before my very eyes into an emerald green tunic partly shrouded by a robe of shining gold.  The Nikes he was wearing replaced by the most elegant golden sandals I have ever seen  We are all silent.  he is smiling, then, as he opens his mouth to speak, once again, we are in the company of Ethan, random bike dude, dependent tonight on our hospitality, out here in the toolies.

1989

We were arrested at the Damascus Gate of the great city.  Claudius, my companion in the barracks in Nicomedia knew me immediately and had me in chains.  On my pleading they released Thaddai, claiming he knew nothing of this, and miraculously they let him go.  He returned immediately to the refuge where his mother and sister were sheltering.  I was given no trial, for them I was already a deserter, traitor, and worse, a Christian, I was already tried, indicted and convicted.  There was a cross waiting for me.  They stripped me of all my clothing, because not even our Lord Jesus Christ was spared the humiliation of hanging fully naked before the world. And there they nailed me, there I hung, bleeding, much as our Saviour bled for us, but unlike our Saviour, I was consoled throughout by the divine presence. God would never again forsake God that the ultimate darkness should never again shroud the earth. Yes, the pain, yes the humiliation, the agony as I felt my body breaking all around me. And yes, as I could feel the moment approaching, the crows gathered round me to begin their despicable feast.  But that was it.  It was over.  And yet, it was only the beginning.  While the fowls of the air banqueted on my corpse, I was already being received into the place of light and love and life undying...

1988

At daybreak we reached Neapolis, the nearest town to Aelia Capitolina. We knew not to enter the city, and had been told of a small farm nearby that would give us refuge. We were well received by a family of believers. The grandparents, their son and daughter-in-law and three small children. They were concerned about our destination, knowing it would be perilous, and they gave us the information of a safe house near the centre of the city. In a hidden storage room for grain we slept artfully concealed by blankets between bushels of barley. We knew we were coming to our journey's end, when anything could happen. Exhausted, we all slept through the afternoon and into the following dawn. When they gave us breakfast, our elder hosts begged that the two women stay behind with them as Thaddai and I went forth, knowing how perilous the trip would be to two women, especially given the Roman soldiers' lascivious reputation for brutally violating vulnerable women...

1987

There was a very sketchy sidepath just to the right, that went down the hill and around in a route that would be hidden from the Roman soldiers.  We took that route, and met with good fortune, for there was a rock face with a small cave at the bottom, it was more of a crevice but we could still just fit inside.  There we waited.  And waited.  It was already dusk, but we knew we must wait till nightfall.  We had hoped that travel by day would be without incident, but now we were stuck, but just for a while.  I needed badly to urinate, so I was the first to step out and find a private spot.  There would be just enough remnant light to see us safely up to the main path again.  We climbed back up, and there was no one, nor firelight or torch.  We continued walking.  Thaddai stepped in fresh horse dung, and we knew the soldiers had passed that way.  We would be safe for several hours...

1985

Thera had kept the old clothes of her late husband, Antares.  Dionysus wore them as a disguise, for without his magisterial toga, no one would know him.  Then, Thaddai and I escorted him to the home of the archbishop, and left him there to be baptised that same day.  We never again heard of him, but the Bishop did tell us there was a ship leaving immediately for Iberia that he happened to board in Tyre.  Of course we were more than a little relieved to have him out of the way, even if that meant a significant loss of income, but soon our wares found other markets, and then the storm hit.  The persecutions and purgings had spread from the military to ordinary civilians such as ourselves.  The deacon, Melena's husband was taken to prison and tortured to death.  We took her in with the baby, but knew we were not going to be safe anywhere.  The soldiers were already conducting searches from house to house, extirpating the faithful and carrying them to prison, torture and often certain death.  Knowing how perilous would be an overland to Jerusalem, or Aelia Capitolina, we were going to ride together, I, Thaddai, his mother, his sister and the baby, to Tyre, from where we could board a ship to Capernaum.  An angel had appeared to us all that same morning and commanded us to return to the site of Our Lord's execution and there await our transport into Glory...

1984

"It's like we're a bunch of eight year olds at summer camp", muses Kenny, receiving the glass of milk Carl has just poured him. "I regret to say we don't have anything stronger", says Carl. To Tron, or Ethan, Kenny says, "Back in the days of the Roman Empire, how did you ever cope without chocolate? He replies, "We had dates, and figs, and pomegranates, and such wine finer than any that ever flowed from the hills." "What is it about milk and chocolate?" says Erik.  "They seem to perfectly balance each other." "Sorry we don't have anything stronger," says Carl to Tron. "The chocolate does taste idyllic", he says. Carl says, "Apparently milk chocolate has the same fat to sugar ratio as human breast milk.  Ain't that a riot!  We're all crying Mommy, like we all want a tit or maybe something else to suck on, and then just like little sweetie we fall into a food coma for our little nappy." "Something else to suck on", cackles Kenny. "Donuts have the same ratio," says Erik. "Homer Simpson effect", screeches Kenny in a peal of drag queen laughter.  "Doooouuuuggghhhhnut!" Tron is clearing his throat quite audibly and says "May I get on with my tale?" "Yes, please", says Carl,  "You have to forgive my ADHD.  At the end of a long day it sometimes gets a bit out of control", he says with a nervous giggle. Tron resumes, "On his third visit, Dionysus, the governor, came carrying a large bag of money and another bag full of his personal items.  He handed the money to Thera and said, "This is for the care of my child that your daughter has given birth to.  I have left the palace, I have resigned my  post and now I must find a safe harbour for soon they will be searching for me.  Then, looking intently on all of us he whispered, "what must I do to be saved?"

1983

"That must have been very disconcerting", says Carl, putting aside on top of the desk the half-depleted bag of chocolate chips.  "Oh, I'm sorry", he says, "Does anyone want any more?" "Not I, said the pig", says Kenny. "Oh speak for yourself", say I.   "Yes dear, you really know how to set a girl's heart aflutter." "In spades, baby, in spades."  Now that I have Kenny back, alive and well, after twenty-five years of his presumed death by drowning, I am lapping up like a thirsty dog every single opportunity to return to our old selves together, our old coded and campy banter of friends forever.  "What I would really like right now is a tall glass of cold milk." "I actually brought up a four litre jug.  It should be in the bar fridge in the snack bar up here." "I can get it", say I, rising from my chair.  "Where is it by the way?" "You'll need help carrying glasses", says Carl, getting up to join me. "I didn't know we have a snack bar up here." "I'm sorry. we should have kept it stocked during the retreat", says Carl, taking the lead in the hallway, " But we wanted as much communal participation from you guys as possible",  It is in the room behind the mysterious closed door right next to Carl's old bedroom, the same room I was staying in. And there it is, a small fridge, an upper shelf with a microwave, and cupboards, and a small tiki bar with black stools.  There is also a couch, two comfy chairs, a wooden coffee table and a couple of vintage standing lamps.  I have to struggle with a small prickle of resentment that Carl never told me about this room. "What do you think of our guest's tale, so far?"  say I, opening the fridge and pulling out the milk. "I thought after so much chocolate we would be needing it", says Carl." "What is it about milk and chocolate, anyway, say I, because they really do go together." "I dunno.  How old are we?" Remembering my friend's controlled ADHD, I say, "Now back on topic, please." "Yes, of course", he agrees, pulling from one of the upper cupboards four smoked gently curved glass tumblers.  They are tall, and would hold twelve ounces." "How do you like these beauties", says Carl, gently setting them on a tray that he has just pulled out from the bar. "Very elegant.  Now, what do you think of Tron's account." Carl pauses, both hands on top of the bar as though to steady himself.  "Early church history live.  Otherwise...", he pauses as though for dramatic effect, "Had it not been for everything that has happened to us over the last twenty-four hours or so, I would say our friend needs something much stronger to drink than milk."  We are proceeding back into the hall.."but there is no way that any of this could be made up.  No way at all..."

1982

Soon, we were being visited regularly, not by the governor's servants, but by the governor himself. This was most disconcerting.  And Thera was particularly shaken by this change of course.  Especially given what a complete breach of protocol  this was, but he was the governor, and we as Christians, were under holy obligation to receive all strangers with hospitality and kindness.  Dionysus saw one of the saddles that Melena had just embroidered.  Very fortunately she had but recently been married to Cleopas and was living with him and his family on their farm.  Dionysus had no idea where he could find her and to our great surprise and consternation, seemed not at all interested in Melena nor the child, his child, she had just given birth to.  When he asked about the embroidery, Thaddai merely said it was the work of a kinsman, and nothing more.  Dionysus remained for an hour, looking at and discussing the art and designs of our wares and offering us both suggestions of what he would like because he also wanted to start purchasing my saddles.  Then, on his third visit he began to ask us questions about the way of Jesus...

1981

First, the Roman governor, Dionysus, began to notice the beautiful handiwork of Thaddai's pottery, and of Thaddai himself.  His work did outshine by far his father's, and the governor sent his servants to our home to see and purchase his finest work.  But that wasn't all.  Dionysus commanded an audience with Thaddai.  I accompanied him.  In the hall of meetings we stood before him, a man nearing fifty, lean, still handsome, his greying hair already thinning.  He wanted to know who I was.  I simply said that I was a saddle maker of humble provenance.  It was a stroke of divine wisdom that I came with Thaddai, for it was clear to my eye that the governor had designs on him for his bed.  He introduced me as his kinsman, and protector  There was something very serpentine about the governor's eyes as he glared first at one then the other, as though he were in the flesh market struggling to choose between two savoury hams.  Then he asked Thaddai to remain behind.  He of course refused, and the governor consented with great affected courtesy.  We descended the steps from his palace, both of us shaken to our very sandals.

1979

"What did the bishop do when he saw those golden pearls?" says Carl. "First we presented to him and the deacon both letters from the bishop, which we had the forethought to keep on our persons. They agreed to meet with us the next day in the house of Thera. Melena was also present. She looked quite different. Her eyes were no longer adorned with kohl, and she wore a very plain shapeless garment, white and somewhat worn looking. We all spoke together openly and candidly, then it was revealed to me that the deacon was their kinsman through Melena and Thaddai's deceased father. I believe that his wife, also deceased, was a cousin of their father. As the conversation proceeded it became evident that this man had lost his own wife and their only child while she was giving birth to him less than a year ago. He openly admitted that he believed Melena's repentance to be genuine, though she might be required for two years to sit at the back of the congregation and leave early without partaking of the eucharist, the standard penance for fallen women. That was when I took from my bag the gospel of Luke, and read these words out loud.. Jesus Anointed by a Sinful Woman 36 When one of the Pharisees invited Jesus to have dinner with him, he went to the Pharisee’s house and reclined at the table. 37 A woman in that town who lived a sinful life learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, so she came there with an alabaster jar of perfume. 38 As she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them. 39 When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner.” 40 Jesus answered him, “Simon, I have something to tell you.”“Tell me, teacher,” he said. 41 “Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. 42 Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?” 43 Simon replied, “I suppose the one who had the bigger debt forgiven.” “You have judged correctly,” Jesus said. 44 Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. 45 You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. 46 You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. 47 Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.” 48 Then Jesus said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” 49 The other guests began to say among themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?” 50 Jesus said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” They had never heard those words before, even though by that time all four of the canonical gospels were being widely read and studied.and as the bishop was about to question their veracity, I showed them again the letters with the bishop's seal, for the gospel was mentioned there. Then the deacon spoke up and said that he needed a wife and a son and that Melena could provide him with both, and Melena would also need marriage to an honorable Christian man to erase her shame and reintegrate her into the community of the faithful. The bishop protested that this was way premature, but the deacon asked Thera if she would permit him to marry her daughter. "What do you say, Melena?", she asked, looking solemnly at her daughter, who burst into tears, said yes, and fell at the deacon's feet, kissing them while her body heaved with sobbing. To satisfy the bishop's need for a little decorum the wedding was postponed by six months, during which time, with Melena and Thera, Thaddai and I would wait in the back of the church, then leave together before the celebration of the eucharist.

1980

"I also took up again my trade in saddle making.  I was afraid that my style of work would be recognized by any Roman military, but Melena came to the rescue.  She was an expert in embroidery and crewel work, and her colourful designs and patterns effectively disguised my signature work.  my saddles or our saddles, became locally famous.  Thaddai was already a trained potter, thanks to his father's careful attention.  His work was breathtakingly beautiful and brightly coloured, often featuring designs of peacocks, flamingos and phoenix.  Thera's business also began to mysteriously flourish and soon everyone wanted to eat her bread.  We integrated well into the church, and Thaddai and I soon became enlisted in ministering to the needs of widows and orphans, beginning with our own Thera.  We did well for three years, and then the storm clouds began to darken..."

It's All About Me (sure it is, dear, sure it is) 7

I recently composed a spoof based on Nancy Sinatra's legendary song, "These Boots Are Made For Walkin'"  We all remember Nancy, right?  If she hadn't been Ol' Blue Eyes Little Girl, she likely would have been a flight attendant or hair dresser, maybe a bank teller, and maybe on her free nights, a karaoke queen: Bought my Nikes at the local Sport Chek.Shelled out almost half a K,Now I'm takin' over every city sidewalk.Gonna mow down everybody in my way,These shoes are made for runnin',That is just what they'll do,One of these days these shoes are gonna run all over you, Hear my favourite tune on my Bluetooth.Inspire me to run just like a racehorse,Protect me from the songs of the birdies,And from all you inferior people of course.These shoes are made for runnin',That is just what they'll do,One of these days these shoes are gonna run all over you. Running will make me live forever,Forever young and sexy I'll stay,Won't have to look hard for a partner,Gonna get laid every single freakin' day,These shoes are made for runnin',That is just what they'll do,One of these days these shoes are gonna run all over you. I'm the centre of the universe,It's all about precious little  me,So I can knock down little old ladies,And everyone I don't wanna see,These shoes are made for runnin',That is just what they'll do,One of these days these shoes are gonna run all over you. They are everywhere, every single day, infesting the sidewalks and footpaths of Vancouver like a locust plague, or like an outbreak of scabies.  I am referring here of course to joggers, or runners, as some prefer to be called, but,hey, in spite of halo effect, we all know they are a social and logistical public nuisance.  They are not all obnoxious.  A few will make lots of room for pedestrians (sorry, City Hall, but joggers move too fast to be labelled pedestrians), some even going out onto the street (where they really belong). However, most don't seem to really give a crap.  I have seen elderly people with canes or walkers and small children almost getting knocked down by those idiots.  Not a word of apology nor even a glance of recognition.  When I was still working as a mental health support worker, while walking with my client on a narrow trail in Pacific Spirit Regional Park, he was actually knocked into a shallow ditch by an oblivious young female jogger.  I gave her supreme shit. She did sort of apologize but didn't even stop to see if he was okay. I could go on. I used to get hugely annoyed at joggers.  I would either step off the sidewalk  or cross to the other side to avoid them.  Should they have the nerve to say thank you I would simply reply, I didn't do it for you.  And if they really violated my boundaries some nasty shouting matches could result, including getting sworn at by some of those young wastes of DNA.  However, in the interests of peace, sanity and good common sense I have come to accept this public nuisance and just simply say hi, or beep beep or happy Tuesday, or burn rubber to them as they pass.  Most say hi back, smile or even laugh.  I think they really appreciate the connection.  Others, and they are a minority, simply try to pretend I am not there, or they are so distracted by whatever they are hearing on their bluetooth that they simply think they are the only person in existence. I see this as a symptom of the kind of entropy that our society is crumbling towards.  This deification of self, this heightened toxic individualism, this utter narcissism indicates a culture that has lost its moral and ethical moorings.  With climate change and  global capitalism, we have all become balkanized into little organic bots.  Our sheer value to our governments and to the corporations that control our elected politicians is purely economic.  Only the strong, the pretty and the compliant will survive, until they two get swallowed into this growing engulfing vortex. As a Christian, as a First Century Disciple of Jesus Christ, as a Spirit-filled Red Letter Christian, I am proposing nothing short of a complete revival.  Only as Christians rediscover the Living Jesus of the Gospels and surrender unconditionally to the Lamb of God who was slain for us, will we see any effective bulwark against this rot that threatens to engulf us.  I am not proposing religious syncretism or vapid spirituality.  Simply that we come to know Jesus.  In a new way.  In a powerful way, so that the love of God sweeps through our lives and into this fallen and broken world in great torrents of pure Living Water.

1978

"How did things work out for Melena?" wonders Carl.  "I mean, I studied early church history and if I must say so, they were very hardass about fallen women, and particularly towards prostitutes.  How could she ever survive the judgment and surveillance of all those sanctimonious Miss Grundies." "You raise a valid and very interesting point", replies Tron.  "While the history books speak truthfully and accurately about the heightened legalism of the early church, what they neglect to tell us is that that sacred institution was composed of very broken and imperfect human beings.  And neither was everyone of one hundred percent accord.  This was the year 299.  Before the Councils of Nicea and before the Christian scriptures were codified to form the New Testament.  The gospels  and the letters of Paul and the Apostles were in full circulation, among many other writings, letters and gospels, none of which were accepted as canon.  Because of the lack of doctrinal cohesion, often the writings were read and treated selectively and sporadically, often anarchically.  The bishop of Nicomedia had gifted us before we left with his copy of what became known as the Gospel of the  the Great Physician, Luke, and just as we were meeting his sister, Melena, and we were studying the account of the sinful woman anointing our Lord's feet with nard and her own tears..."  Here Tron pauses, his amber eyes shining and glittering in the soft lamplight.  "I saw myself, we both saw ourselves as that sinful woman, to whom Jesus responded with his blessing.  And immediately we could see Melena as that woman, and though we were young men, we could see Melena as us.  That bit of wisdom became a very useful and powerful leavening when we were approaching the bishop of Damascus..."

1977

Thera looked up at me, her face white with unabashed shock.  "Where did you find these ?" she demanded to know.  I said they were a gift from a friend of the Bishop of Nicomedia.  "The value of these pearls will sustain us much longer than just two to three years," she gasped in a near whisper.   "We will never have to go without again. But these are many.  Far too many and if I or my daughter should exchange these for money all eyes would be upon us.  Dionysus, the governor, her former brute, would be upon us in no time. "  She carefully returned the pearls, one by one, into the bag, then handed it back to me.  Then Thaddai spoke up, "Mother, Adrian and I could exchange the pearls, just one or two at a time, as we have need, and there are other towns and cities where we could have it done.  Perhaps..."   Madame, said I, there is prudence and common sense in the words of your son"...and so we were able to elaborate a plan, but we would have to do it with the greatest of care, and we were not going to do it without the blessing and support of the local church...

1976

The young woman, upon releasing Thaddai from her embrace, lowered her mantle to her shoulders revealing a dark and sensuous beauty with black curly hair cascading way past her shoulders, or so I imagined since her hair was still safely tucked behind her black shroud. said Thera."I wasn't expecting you this early". "The proconsul's chief manservant forbade me entry today, but gave me this bag of money.  I am not permitted to return, not ever again", she said tersely. "What did you do or say that might have offended him", said Thera wearily. "I imagine that it is time also to tell you as well.  You are going to be a grandmother." "Do you mean to say..." "That is correct, mother.  I am carrying the proconsul's bastard child..." Thera looked like she might have wept on the spot, but I could already tell that she had long ago emptied completely her wells of tears. She emptied the bag of its contents onto the table before her and began to count the coins. "It should be enough to keep us for a few months, said Melena. Without looking up from the coins, her mother replied, "if we eat just one meal a day it might keep us for a fortnight. Then I pulled from my tunic the bag of golden pearls. I handed them all to Thera. She looked at me in uncomprehending shock. "Take them to the money changers tomorrow. They must not know where you got them. If anyone asks, your kinsman has stepped up for you. There should be enough value in these golden pearls to keep you for two or three years. And, if I can count on your hospitality, Madame, I am a skilled saddle maker, and I could restart here my craft and their marketing, if that is right with you..."

Visions 3

I saw a roller painting a wall whte, later I saw a hand presentng me wth a ring of several five, I think, keys. The interpretation: You are being made pure and innocent again and I am handing you the keys that will unlock and open the doors I am preparing for you. i will not open the doors, but I will lead you to them. Your part is to unlock them open and enter in. I will show you throughout the way which resources you already have and how to use them in order to make my way plain before you.

1986

"Now", says Tron, "May I get on with my tale?" "By all means", says Kenny. We were standing, visiting with Thaddai's mother in her grain and bread shop.  She was telling us that some recent droughts had reduced the harvests, she had to raise her prices and there was scarcity.  Thaddai's father was a maker of pots and vessels, one of the finest in Damascus, so that even the Roman proconsul had become one of his most diligent clients.  But with his death, that income completely dried up.  Thera was pausing, hesitating as though she did not know how or whether to proceed, when a dark shadow came in through the awning.  I looked more carefully, and all I could see was someone veiled in a black mantel edged with gold embroidery.  I could see at its hem a green silken garment, emerald green and the exquisitely sandaled foot of a young woman.  The figure said nothing, but handed Thera a small linen purse that appeared to be full of coins.  She left it on the table, then turned and noticed us.  Then, throwing back her veil, revealing a beautiful dark young woman with eyes painted with kohl., she screamed "Thaddai!", and like his mother clutched and clung to him in a tight embrace.  She was weeping silently.

It's All About Me (of course it is dear, of course it is!) 6

As a species, we humans have really totally blown it.  Climate chaos is upon us.  Europe is broiling under yet another killer heat wave.  Last year on that continent, seventy thousand people perished from heat-related causes.  Our last eleven years have been the hottest in recorded memory.  Here in Canada,as well as elsewhere in the world, killer wildfires have become the norm.  Every summer in major cities the sun gets hidden or turns a ghastly copper-orange, by clouds of health-destroying smoke.  For a couple of days Vancouver had the world's worst  air quality   topping Mexico City, Beijing and Delhi.  Meanwhile, government leaders go on signing and approving deals with the fossil fuel industries, meaning more pipelines, more fuel, more contaminents, more heat,  As if they are completely tone-deaf to what we are doing to our planet, to ourseves, to the entire web of life.  In Europe and in China there is a surge of  renewable energy, solar, wind, etc, but this really reads like too little too late. I could go on, but there is no need to. How did we get this way?  Well, fire has a lot to do wih it.  The Greek myth reads that the titan god, Prometheus, stole fire from the altar of the gods on Olmypus and gave it to humankind, so that they or we would no longer be completely subservient, but become the master of our own lives, our own destiny.  As punishment, he was chained to the face of a mountain where an eagle would come to devour his liver for all eternity. That gift of fire turned us into apex predators.  Meat, till then eaten raw and difficult to digest and rather disgusting, became tasty and easy on the stomach.  We turned from being a prey species into beasts of prey.  Our brains grew, we became more inventive, more adept and more adaptable.  We left Africa for other climes.  In many cases, places of bitter and biting cold, since the ice age was upon us.  Fire helped our paleolithc ancestors adapt and adjust to some of the most hostile climates imaginable.  Even after our prehistoric ancestors were nearly wiped out by cold and pandemics, a remnant survived and went on killing and eating, and taking down trees to warm themselves and survive the bitter cold of Europe, Siberia, and northern Canada.  Our population grew, doubling, tripling, quadrupling and so on.  We cut down more rees, burned more wood, deforested mountains and hillsides, destroying ecosystems, and even then we were starting to foul the very air that keeps us alive.  It never occurred to anyone that we might be a species adapted and designed exclusively for tropical qnd subtropical climates.  No one was about to move back to Africa, or stay in India or indonesia.  Fire made us masters of our destiny.  Fire was the first catalyst to help separate us from God. Our numbers grew.  exponentially.  We continued to hunt to extinction a whole myriad of species of the most magnificent animals that ever graced our planet.  We continued deforesting, destroying ecosystems, and then came agriculture, the big ecological deal breaker.  Most of the British isles and many other parts of the world became deforested.  but we wanted to stay warm and cook our meat.  Bye bye forests, bye bye ecosystems.  Then coal was discovered, and entire cities in Europe became almost uinhabitable from the reulting smog.  Then petroleum game along and gangbusters!!!!! i almost forgot to mention that not long afer, we learned how to split the atom.  Bye bye Hiroshima.  Bye bye Nagasaki.  Hello global nuclear terror.. We could, especially in developed nations, cut our energy demands and needs in half, and with just a few small trade offs and sacrifice, we would be living within our means and climate catastrophe could be forestalled, perhaps indefiniltely. But no one wans to do this or even hear about it.  Prometheus's gift of fire was the gift of hubris, and ever since then, our species has gone its own destructive way, completly engulfed in greed, selfishness and fear, because hubris does not unite humanity.  It splinters, balkanizes and divides us.  Every rat for himself. And now we have this lovely age of narcisism to survive.  i tend to think here of the closing lines of the song by King Cimson, Epitaph:  "Knowlege is a deadly friend if no one plays the rules.  The fate of all mankind i fear is in the hands of fools." We have always  like small children playing with adult size tools and weapons.  This is not going to end well