We take it for granted, the god we need to carry on.
This means that carrying-on has a switch that will make light present in a room.
It means with a dial we can call out a god to dispel the cold. That a button,
when pressed, can, with this god we take for granted, call upon the domestication of the god's radiance.
But what gets turned on also means there is something that is turned off—as in to keep away. To make flee. What is it that stirs in the absence of every key that starts an engine?
Our granting is NOT an abandonment of the wild. Our granting is an existential denial of the wild. The essence of such a denial is that the wild is RESOURCE. We live indifferent to its existence—it’s simply “coal”, or “wind”, or “solar”—that is, our concerns extend no further than our contrivances. What we take for granted we have already taken as resource. Our taking has fundamentally altered “the taken”: is now “taken” for resource. Either for recreation or concern for diversity and ecological “balance” or as god's reserve—now commonly considered THE ESSENCE OF WILDNESS.
We have, in our taking-for-granted, driven off all other ways of seeing a wild star shine—such light (imagine it!) that can sustain your endeavor for a day, or threaten it. In the wild, there is no “leveling”. You cannot defy an existential cold with on-demand warmth. The commitments, these profound, yet brief “leaps of faith” enjoy no privilege, are not granted any advantage.
Is it impossible, now that we have transcended the wild, command the harnessed, on-demand-divinity and use it at will, that we will ever recover what it once was without our ordering, without our granting, without our contrivances that have made us oblivious to the light—to this real, never-taken-for-granted sun light?
This sun light: the true granting of life--is it not enough?