ALL THE RIGHT STUFF.

The Standing Invitation of the Standing Reserve.

The Earth as Kit, Cache, and Cathedral.

by The Accidental Initiate.

“Perhaps we should now consider Heidegger’s standing reserve as a poetic wellspring.”

Is it not a huge coincidence that everything man has fashioned in his ascent to this current technological state was encased in the Earth from the beginning?

Was it placed here for our use?

Did we only fashion our material culture and forms of travel according to the resources available?

Are there possible alternatives to the way things turned out?

Is stuff still awaiting a refashion to a new, improved future?

Why was there a literal warehouse of material to be used as needed?

Does everyone take this standing reserve for granted?

Does the realization of this miracle suggest predetermination?

Were the Earth’s resources cached here as a do-it-yourself kit for mankind?

The Russian Cosmists, whom we’ve invoked in the past, may have seeded our line of thought—though they seemed more concerned with launching outward, toward resurrection, space colonization, and the divinization of man.

What we’ve stumbled into is something quieter, perhaps stranger:

that the Earth itself was already packed with all the right stuff.

A sacred surplus.

A standing invitation.

A metaphysical hardware store, disguised as geology.

If others have phrased these questions before, we haven’t heard them asked in quite this way—certainly not with the same combination of awe, accident, and intuition.

We admit there are many ways to live on this planet.

A study of anthropology reveals this.

However, the only culture and extended people who have a past tradition of transcendence through technology are the Rus and their Cosmists.

As cousins of the Promethean Europeans responsible for the creation of what we know as the modern world, the Russians proper are not gas station attendants masquerading as the population of a country.

Their space program belies the ugly Amerikan McCain’s demeaning description of Russia as a gas station masquerading as a country.

One doesn’t have to accept Russia as a whole to appreciate and see the synthesis of the material and spiritual that may have arisen there first—among her Cosmists.

***

The Earth and her resources are not just a ready resource.

It is all the right stuff.

Someone else must surely realize the implications of this.

Some have mourned the fading of the Earthrise vision—the loss of that fragile, planetary awe once captured from the moon’s orbit.

But perhaps the photo only told half the story.

The Earth is not just a symbol to admire from afar—

it is a kit,

a cache,

a cathedral.

It’s not just the overview.

It is a stocked warehouse.

All the right stuff was already here.

What kind of plan buries its tools beneath your feet, waiting for you to see the world not just as precious—but as prepared?

We understand, of course, that for Heidegger, the “standing reserve” was a term of concern—a description of the modern technological gaze that sees nature not as meaningful in itself, but merely as supply stock, on call.

Yet what if the reserve is not a reduction at all—

but a revelation?

What if the Earth is a kind of standing reserve—not for exploitation, but for invocation?

A rock is never just a rock.

It waits.

It remembers.

It yearns to be re-seen—

to become a hearth,

a sculpture,

a circuit board,

a spaceship.

Not standing reserve—

It was never just “there.”

It was waiting for us.

What if the elements weren’t randomly scattered, but strategically gifted—like a cosmic DIY kit, its instructions encoded not only in language but in longing?

We admit it: this seems predestined.

That all the materials needed to build rockets, resonators, radio towers, and radio telescopes were already tucked into the planet like provisions in a launch capsule…

How is this not a form of grace?

Heidegger warned us not to see everything as raw material.

But sometimes, raw material just wants to be a rocket.

Maybe the Earth isn’t exploited—

maybe it’s read.

Not standing reserve but standing invitation.

**************

AFTERWORD

by John St. Evola, Editor

Council-of-Concerned-Conservationists Newsletter

We’ve read The Accidental Initiate’s vision with our usual mixture of admiration, concern, and faint heartburn. His suggestion that the Earth was stocked like a cosmic warehouse—waiting for us to decode it—is, admittedly, persuasive.

But let us not confuse wonder with warranty.

The Council would like to remind its readers that even preassembled kits require interpretation. Some parts don’t fit. Others arrive without instructions. And occasionally, the Allen wrench bends under metaphysical pressure.

If the Earth is an IKEA box, then Cosmism is the part of the manual written in Swedish. You can stare at it all you want—but unless you’ve got vision, patience, and maybe a resurrected great-grandfather holding the flashlight, you’re going to misplace a screw.

Still, what a kit it is.

We may not know who packed it.

We certainly don’t know if they’ll come back to check on us.

But we do know this: when the lightning struck, someone said, “Let’s build something.”

And we did.