Boomeritis by Ken Wilber

[Meg Salter]

I've read Ken Wilber's latest - Boomeritis - and thoroughly enjoyed. Now,
I've got to admit - I'm a hard-core Wilber fan. I don't think there's any
huge breakthrough thinking in here. His main focus is two-fold:  1) to make
his thinking more accessible, stripped down to the bare essentials (and I
think he does this well) and 2) to expose some of the toxic elements
prevalent in much of current "correct" thinking that is in fact holding us
back hugely.
This is definitely a book with attitude - read it if you want to go for a
bit of a wild ride!

Meg Salter

MegaSpace Consulting
416/486-6660
meg.salter at sympatico.ca
www.megaspaceconsulting.com

----- Original Message -----
From: "Eric Lilius" <elilius at halhinet.on.ca>
To: <OSLIST at LISTSERV.BOISESTATE.EDU>
Sent: Friday, June 14, 2002 12:22 PM
Subject: Boomeritis by Ken Wilber


> I just received this taste of a novel written by Ken Wilber.
>
> (Summary from the book jacket: )
>
> Ken Wilber's latest book is a daring departure from his previous
writings - a
> highly original work of fiction that combines brilliant scholarship with
> tongue-in-cheek storytelling to present the integral approach to human
> development that he expounded in more conventional terms in his recent A
Theory
> of Everything.
>
> The story of a naïve young grad student in computer science and his quest
for
> meaning in a fragmented world provides the setting in which Wilber
contrasts the
> alienated "flatland" of scientific materialism with the integral vision,
which
> embraces body, mind, soul, and spirit in both self and culture, and
nature. The
> book especially targets one of the most stubborn obstacles in realizing
the
> integral vision: a disease of egocentrism and narcissism that Wilber calls
> "boomeritis" because it seems to plague the baby-boomer generation most of
all.
>
> Through a series of sparkling seminar-lectures skillfully interwoven with
the
> hero's misadventures in the realms of sex, drugs, and popular culture, all
of
> the major tenets of extreme postmodernism are criticized - and
exemplified -
> including the author's having a bad case of boomeritis himself. Parody,
> intellectual slapstick, and a mind-twisting surprise ending unite to
produce a
> highly entertaining summary of the work of cutting-edge theorists in human
> development from around the world.
>
> The Introduction:
>
> Omega_Doom @ FutureWorld.org
>
> I am the bastard child of two deeply confused parents, one of whom I am
ashamed
> of, the other of whom is ashamed of me. None of us are on speaking terms,
for
> which we are all grateful. (These things bother you, every now and then. )
My
> parents are intimately conjoined in their displeasure with the present;
both
> want to replace it - quickly - with a set of arrangements more suited to
their
> inclinations. One wants to tear down; the other, to build up. You might
think
> they were made for each other, would go together hand in hand, a marriage
made
> in transformational heaven. Years after the divorce, none of us is so
sure.
>
> One of them breathes the fire of revolutionary insurrection, and wants to
tear
> down the oppressive forces of a cruel and careless yesterday, digging
beneath
> the veneer of civilized madness to find, it is devoutly hoped, an original
human
> goodness long buried by the brutalities of a modern world rubbed raw by
> viciousness. One of them dreamily gazes in the other direction, standing
on
> tiptoes and straining to see the foggy face of the future, to a coming
world
> transformation - I'm told it will be perhaps the greatest in all of
history -
> and begins to swoon with bliss of beautiful things about to unfold before
us;
> she is a gentle person and sees the world that way. But I am cursed with
an eye
> from each, and can hardly see the world at all through two orbs that
refuse to
> cooperate; cross-eyed I stare at that which is before me, a Picasso
universe
> where things don't quite line up. Or perhaps I see more clearly precisely
> because of that?
>
> This much seems certain: I am a child of the times, and the times point in
two
> wildly incompatible directions. On the one hand, we hear constantly that
the
> world is a fragmented,  torn, and tortured affair, on the tremulous verge
of
> collapse, with massive and huge civilization blocks pulling apart from
each
> other with increasingly alienated intent, so much so that international
culture
> wars are the greatest threat of the future. Cyber-age technology is
proceeding
> at a pace so rapid that, it is said within 30 years we will have machines
> reaching human-level intelligence, and at the same time advances in
genetic
> engineering,  nanotechnology, and robotics will mean the possible end of
> humanity altogether: we will either be replaced by machines or destroyed
by a
> white plague - and what kind of future is that for a kid? At home we are
faced
> with the daily, hourly, minutely examples of a society coming apart at the
> seams: a national illiteracy rate that has skyrocketed from 5% in 1960 to
30%
> today;
> 51% of the children in New York City born out of wedlock; armed militias
> scattered about Montana like Nazi bunkers on the beaches of Normandy,
braced for
> the invasion; a series of culture wars, gender wars, ideology wars in
academia
> that parallel in viciousness, if not in means, the multicultural
aggression on
> the international scene. My father's eyeball in my head sees a world of
> pluralistic fragmentation, ready to disintegrate, leaving in its riotous
wake a
> mangled mass of human suffering historically unprecedented.
>
> My mother's eye sees quite another world, yet every bit as real: we are
> increasingly becoming one global family, and love by any other name seems
the
> driving force. Look at the history of the human race itself: from isolated
> tribes and bands, to large farming towns, to city-states, to conquering
feudal
> empires, to international states, to worldwide global village.  And now,
on the
> eve of the millennium, we face a staggering transformation the likes of
which
> humanity has never seen, where human bonding so deep and so profound will
find
> Eros pulsing gloriously through the veins of each and all, signaling the
dawn of
> a global consciousness that will transfigure the world as we know it. She
is a
> gentle person and sees the world that way.
>
> I share neither of their views; or rather, I share them both, which makes
me
> nearly insane.  Clearly twin forces, though not alone, are eating away at
the
> world: planetization and disintegration, unifying love and corrosive
> death-wishes, bonding kindness and disjointing cruelty, on a colossal
scale. And
> the bastard, schizophrenic, seizure-prone son sees the world as if through
> shattered glass, moving his head slowly back and forth while waiting for
> coherent images to form, wondering what it all means.
>
> As the Picasso-like fragments assemble themselves into something of
postmodern
> art, flowing images start to congeal: perhaps there are indeed
integrating,
> bonding, unifying forces at work in the world, a God or Goddesses love of
gentle
> persuasion, slowly but inexorably increasing human understanding, care,
and
> compassion. And perhaps there are likewise currents viciously dedicated to
> disrupting any such integral embrace. And perhaps they are indeed at war,
a war
> that will not cease until one of them is dead - a world united, or a world
torn
> apart:  love on one hand, or blood all over the brand-new carpet.
>
> What immediately tore at my attention, all that year, was the three-decade
mark
> of Armageddon doom rushing at me from tomorrow: in 30 years (30 years! ),
> machines will reach human-level intelligence, and beyond. And then human
beings
> will almost certainly be replaced by machines - they will outsmart us,
after
> all. Or, more likely, we - human beings,  our minds or our consciousness
or some
> such - would download into computers, we would transfer our souls into the
new
> machines - and what kind of future was that for a kid?
>
> That was the year the event occurred, altering my fate irrevocably, a year
in
> the life of a human machine that miraculously came to life. It was a year
of
> ideas that hurt my head,  made my brain sore and swollen, it seemed
literally to
> expand and push against my skull,  bulging out my eyes, throbbing at my
temples,
> tearing into the world. Of that year, I recall almost no geographical
locations
> at all. I remember little scenery, few actual places, hardly an exterior,
just a
> stream of conversations and blistering visions that ruined my life as I
had
> known it, replaced it with something humanity would never recognize, left
me
> immortal, stains all over my flesh, smiling at the sky.
>
>
> --
> .·´¯`·.¸ ><((((º> .·´¯`·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸ <º))))>< ,.·´¯`·.¸.·´¯`·.¸ ><((((º>
> ¸.·´¯`·..·´¯`·.¸ ><((((º> .·´¯`·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸.·.¸.·´¯`·.¸ ><((((º>
> .·´¯`·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸ <º))))>< .·´¯`·.¸.·´¯`·.¸ ><((((º> ¸.·´¯`·..·´¯`·.¸
>
> ******PLEASE NOTE CHANGE OF ADDRESS******
>
> Eric Lilius
> Box 27  Eagle Lake, Ontario, Canada
> K0M 1M0
> email:elilius at halhinet.on.ca
> ph:     705-754-9859
> fax:    705-754-9860
>
> Dance, when you're broken open.
> Dance, if you've torn the bandage off.
> Dance in the middle of the fighting.
> Dance in your blood.
> Dance, when you're perfectly free.
>
>                         Rumi
>
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