Fecundity

For this blog post I want to remark on some of my reflections from our class discussion of the Annie Dillard reading, “Fecundity.” As we discussed, ‘fecundity’ is the ability to produce an abundance of offspring or new growth. It is basically nature's response to death. Because living organisms cannot control when they die, the natural counteraction is the biological urge to reproduce. Dillard portrays the phenomenon of fecundity in a detailed fashion that makes the act of reproduction seem like a tool for increasing population mass in a gross manner. She describes eggs “dribbling out in we bubbles” and the goo of animals’ bodily fluids, the “broth” that is the aggregation of barnacle bits. The grossness gives the phenomenon a feeling of vile death and sickness rather than the sacredness we typically associate with birth and new life. But these are just natural processes viewed from a zoomed out lens. The scale is something we never encounter as humans, and we are accustomed to our own comfortable personal space, so it makes us uncomfortable and anxious. The view takes emotion out of the reproductive process, and turns it into an anxious effort to produce as many offspring as possible, with no concern given for their individuality. The odds for survival as a species increase with the more of them that there are; it does not matter which individual lives succeed as long as the living ones continue furthering their kind by making more. This lack of emotion is where the horror element surfaces in Dillard. But in reality, nature is not really gross, or amoral, in this way, but humans rather are the ones that place a standard of morality and values upon nature that is not really there or necessary. Nature simply is; how humans feel about it is irrelevant to its existence. This ultimately implies that humans have no greater value in nature than the tiniest millions of barnacles in the sea. We do not contribute anything more advantageous to nature than the microscopic organisms. In fact, we seemed designed specifically to take from nature. Moreover, if we zoom out like we did before when we examined mass reproduction, and put ourselves in the picture, viewed from the galaxy next door we are just as microscopic and meaningless. At the end of it all, we are organic beings that end up in the same dirt that the others do. 

This train of thought begs the next thought: does any of it matter? Are we just all mindless beings whose wills are unconsciously controlled by biological anxieties to use reproduction as a combatant to the one thing we cannot explain or resist? If our conventions, inventions, and values do not make us more valuable than the bugs on the ground, if we contribute nothing of substance to nature, we have no real place in it besides just the physical area we exploit. Despite our incessant searching to find our life’s purpose, our conviction that our lives have meaning simply because we feel that they do, and our pompous assumption that we have the right to take from nature because we have the power to, according to Dillard’s thinking, we are all extraordinarily mistaken. We particularly pride ourselves on our sentience that differentiates us from the rest of nature, and that we can ascertain, judge, and innovate unlike any other species. If one takes Dillard’s view of nature, all that is nevertheless arbitrary because, within nature, none of that rewards us with a different result at the end. We are each replaced by new progeny, just like the other creatures that reproduce in throngs. Ultimately, this story of life leaves us without the need for a God. In this scenario, a God is irrelevant and a human construct, for God would insert the humanity into nature which does not really exist, according to Dillard.

I think Dillard’s is a particularly pessimistic view on life, although I do think that her points do us a good service in perspective. Realizing not that we do not have value, but that the minutest creatures of the earth really have as much value as we want ourselves to have, demonstrates the necessity for the earth to be protected. It is also amoral of us to exploit the earth beyond repair or repayment. In a way, I think she does help show the sanctity of life, at least from the standpoint of human involvement. One may take Dillard’s view as they wish. She shows how our human capacities become moot and knocks our pride down to that of an ocean barnacle, but as much as it keeps us appropriately humble, I think her point ignores the one human capacity that cannot be explained by the desire for reproduction or dominance: creativity. When I say creativity, I mainly refer to artistic creativity. There is no biological justification for this creativity; it is purely a form of expression. Writing, drawing, dancing, singing, and other similar activities do not add any evolutionary advantage to us. But as far as we know, humans have done it for almost as long as we have existed. Obviously, not all individuals actively create, and some people do not even enjoy consuming art. The latter group I believe do subconsciously enjoy some form of art, and they have just been absorbed into the stream of capitalism, or else they would have the mind to more actively enjoy it. But for most of us, artistic expression is something we are inexplicably drawn to. Activity relaxes us, watching, reading, or writing a story is cathartic, music gives us connection to others in shared feelings. I think it is the very lack of meaning in all the sounds we make that precisely give them meaning. None of these experiences satisfy our need for shelter, food, and water, but rather they serve an entirely different need. I believe that need has something to do with a search for something else. I do not know exactly what that is, but I think our existence in this state does in fact point to a Creator. Why else would we ourselves create but to somehow find our way back to what we cannot explain or prove?  I am not meaning to impose religion on the reader here or deviate from our topic of nature in class, and I myself am certainly no experienced religious authority. But after reading Dillard I was left unsatisfied, but I did not know how to express what exactly I felt. After reflecting, my conclusion is that I think it is our creativity that finally asserts us back into nature after we have inherently opposed it, taken from it, and failed to support it in so many ways. Nature is a creation, we are a creation, and we create. I think there is one thing that sources and explains it all.