I have finally just finished my fall desert poetry series, and it was both a joy and a challenge to write. Many of my fall journeys were deeply intertwined with Native American mythology, ruins, and history, and this series largely reflects that. I learned about the Hopi in New Mexico and the Pueblo in Arizona, about the healing well in Palm Springs, and spoke to a healer in Sedona. At the same time, the fall was filled with uncertainty as the election loomed closer and international news continued to shift. My travels were punctuated by conversations about Palestine at places like Zion National Park and discussions about likely voters with my politically savvy friends.
One thing that emerged strongly from this semester is an interest in our futures. In school, I structured my classes to be future-focused, and one of the concepts I explored was Cosmotechnics. This is the belief that cosmology, or the stars, guide our technological development. It is a culturally conscious perspective that, for me, lacked not in theory but in its practical applications. In my last series, I researched and discussed the mythologies and cosmologies of the Aztec empire alongside their expansion.
As the empire grew, it transitioned from subsistence farming to storing crops, surplus, goods, and tribute. This shift led to advancements in technologies like chinampas, floating gardens, and cōcalli, meaning granaries. While these innovations did not physically transform raw materials, they represented a turning point where nature was increasingly ordered and controlled through technology. This process was still cosmologically framed through redistribution, sacrifice, and divine offerings, but it also served as a tool for empire expansion and the control of land, labor, and captured tribes.
In contrast, many of the mythologies I explored in this series reflect an earlier balance with the universe, before empires grew large enough for their technologies to reveal desires for conquest. It seems that belief systems, much like modern religions, are shaped by material contexts rather than existing in a moral vacuum. I would like to believe that the cosmotechnic view of a balanced relationship with nature is one worth striving for. In recent months, I have encountered extreme weather events, from intense heat in Arcosanti to deep freezes in Chicago. The climate crisis is undeniably catching up with the West. While my personal carbon footprint is not extraordinary, I was still moved to tears witnessing droughts and wildfires consume the country. My climate advocacy has been nationally focused, but seeing the destruction firsthand made it more immediate.
With policy rollbacks on hold for now, I have been drawn to technology and the theory that technology acts as a revelation. According to Heidegger, technology is the ordering of raw materials for use, and within this relationship lies an inherent perception of control. This aligns with the humanist view that the mind governs the body. In this framework, nature, bodies, and technology are subject to human control, reduced to mere resources.
However, in my readings of Native American mythologies, I found a perspective that is more posthuman in nature. Posthumanism is often associated with technology, but I see a parallel between the co-evolution of technology and the indigenous view of co-evolution with nature. I propose that nature and technology are not fundamentally different. Rather, technology reveals certain aspects of nature, and our anxieties about technology stem from the realization that it is, in fact, an extension of nature. In earlier times, we believed we could control nature. Now, our fears revolve around our lack of control over it. We are at a similar juncture with technology, recognizing its autonomy beyond ourselves. The posthuman perspective urges us to acknowledge that human evolution is intertwined with technological evolution, and I agree with this view.
Some may argue that climate technology seeks to control nature, but I see it as an acknowledgment of humanity's connection to nature. Instead of extracting tools from nature to dominate it, as was common in the twentieth century, modern climate technology seeks to reveal tools from nature to restore balance.
Our minds, especially those of younger generations, are increasingly intertwined with technology in a form of shared cognition. What is necessary now is shared metacognition-the ability to reflect on how our behavior is being shaped by technology so that we can make more conscious choices. The truth is that the humanist theory was never accurate. We have never had complete mastery over our bodies, nature, or technology. Moving forward, we must embrace co-evolution. From the first tool to ChatGPT, humans have shaped and transformed nature into technology. While technology conceals certain aspects of nature and reveals others-often aligned with corporate and governmental interests, it remains fundamentally linked to its raw materials. From cobalt mining in the Congo to the energy demands of AI and cryptocurrency, technology is not separate from nature but an inextricable part of it. The key question is who is doing the revealing and in whose interest.
As technology has become more media-driven, we have entered the era of media-natures. Like other forms of technology, media is shaped by its owners, who exploit it for profit. Digital metacognition is crucial for shaping our futures. We must move beyond being mere data points optimized for engagement and watch time and instead assert full digital autonomy. This past weekend, I attended presentations from BlueSky, a promising initiative that allows users to own their data and curate their online experience. While the company is still profit-driven, its open-access software enables users to build their own social media platforms while retaining ownership of their data. The founder of Project Liberty also emphasized the importance of economic value in data ownership. He argued that we should be able to share parts of our data while maintaining full control over it. When I asked him about the radicalization driven by the profit motives of social media, he stressed that users should be aware of the data they generate and actively participate in shaping their algorithmic futures.
This is important because, as we enter an era of shared cognition, a lack of shared metacognition can lead to behaviors we later regret. Consider the participants of the January 6th insurrection. While some remain trapped in algorithmic feedback loops, others have had moments of clarity, realizing how their beliefs had been shaped by digital platforms. Meta was aware of this dynamic, yet it did nothing to disrupt the cycle because doing so would have been unprofitable. If those users had been on platforms like BlueSky or Project Liberty, they might have been able to reflect on their beliefs in real-time, comparing them to broader perspectives. However, Meta prioritized profit over facilitating such awareness.
Ultimately, just as our relationship with nature must evolve, so too must our relationship with technology. This evolution must prioritize cognitive liberty over cognitive subjugation. At SXSW, I saw emerging technologies that bring us closer to shared metacognition. One company developed a sensor that monitors a dog's activity and selects music throughout the day to encourage weight loss. Another demonstrated how a lab-grown brain could communicate with a computer using electrical pulses, leveraging the proximity of carbon and silicon on the periodic table. These advancements highlight the deepening connection between human cognition and technology, underscoring the need for a more intentional and conscious engagement with these developments if we seek to move past the surveillance-style revealing of technology that has given power to states and companies over individuals in defining our collective futures.
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