The search for the Utah Lake's personal meaning for me has basically become a genealogical study over the last few weeks. Thinking so much about how I came to be connected to this place has led me to a few conclusions. One is that land is very important. Our maker communicates to us through the land, whether one has a deed in the tradition of the Western world, or whether one simply lives there. Unfortunately He stopped making the stuff a long time ago and we haven't found the next frontier yet. We fabricate new worlds in our minds, through electronic networks and fiction, but until our hands touch the dirt that produces the food which sustains our life, there will always be a longing.
I believe that we will find it. It doesn't feel right to stifle human nature in the interest of economy, but the reality is that we are consuming our Earth's bounty faster than it can produce. We cannot degrade our humanity enough to erase the need for exploration and I have always intended to donate a significant percentage of The Lunar Island's resources to furthering research toward finding our new frontier.
That's also one reason why building the island is so important to me. In addition to just being a lovely place, it is a symbol of creation, of building something that hasn't yet been seen. Our history is about taking. It is about traveling to a new land when the old ceases to become enough for us, cultivating it with the help of our children, and then when we die, splitting the remains with those left behind to split their portion again and again until it's no longer enough, and we leave again.
A luscious plot of land in Southeast England is taken by the Normans, and we move to Lancashire, but our beliefs are unfit for the rigid dogma of the past and we are driven to Ireland. But resources are limited and disease abounds, so we travel to the new world. There we flow and scatter further and further until, a homestead beside the Utah lake is our last border, and there is no more land to discover. Beyond every fence lies only a neighbor. A farm, becomes shares of land. Shares of land become suburban lots. The suburban lots are needed for urban projects, and at last there is only synthetic land, or finance, to share with those remaining.
So now, it's time to turn around. It's time to use all our resourcefulness and create a future that didn't exist. It's human nature to avoid a problem as long as possible, but it is human nature to survive. Now, there's no other choice but to turn the fiction back into reality. To make new land, to find new worlds, to use our minds to create substance from nothing and save ourselves.
We have all grown up understanding that our world as it is cannot be sustained. Perhaps our parents as well, but all of us without a doubt know, and so "Clegg," and all our names will mean in one hundred years only what we make them from this, the dawn of the synthetic age onward. We may wander, addled in pleasure while we wait to disappear, or we may shine to create the place that our descendants will live without despising us.