Earth Day Thoughts

On this 56th edition of Earth Day, I feel compelled to reflect on how we got here, and where we are going. In many ways, it seems we have taken more steps backwards, especially recently, but I also see hope and promise, if we have the collective will.

© NASA from Artemis II mission

How amazing, if not coincidental, that one of the images that inspired Earth Day was Earthrise, a view of Earth from the orbit of the Apollo 8 mission in 1968, a photo taken by astronaut Willam Anders. Fast forward to earlier this month, and images of our Blue Marble taken by the astronauts aboard the Artemis II mission leave us in awe all over again.

That awe needs to now translate to reverence, something fundamental to Indigenous cultures, and which has been nearly absent throughout the history of Western Civilization, replaced instead with fixation on attainment of gratuitous wealth, and increasing economic growth.

I was nine years old when the inaugural Earth Day occurred in 1970, too young to appreciate the fact that the major purpose of the celebration was to preserve the planet for future generations like mine. All I knew was that I loved going exploring, looking for insects, spiders, snakes, and other creatures that nobody else liked. Today, I cannot escape the observation that we treat whole sectors of humanity as badly as we do “bugs,” and sometimes even worse.

When did Homo sapiens first begin to imperil our one and only home? Some will point to the Quaternary megafauna extinctions of large mammals at the end of the Ice Age, 10,000 to 50,000 years ago. A good argument could be made that the Industrial Revolution, at least the second one, was the beginning of the holocaust. Widespread environmental damage was certainly accelerated by the burning of fossil fuels, which continues to this day.

Every human revolution magnifies the impact of the previous one, and so the Industrial Revolution led to an enormous increase in the scale of the Agricultural Revolution that preceded it. Machinery replaced draft animals, and permitted enormous plots of monoculture crops to be grown. The Third Industrial Revolution began to automate jobs that were not already outsourced to cheaper labor pools elsewhere, and the current Fourth Industrial Revolution is being defined by the widespread employment of artificial intelligence (AI) to replace most other functions in industry, business, and even the service economy. The end goal appears to be reducing most of humanity to the category of consumers, who take little part in the production of goods and services.

Overall, it appears that the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are actually colonialism, capitalism, patriarchy, and racism, not necessarily in that order. There are certainly additional players, but here are your lead actors. They have all been behind conquest, war, famine, and death. Those four characteristics of human society must be extinguished if we are to have future Earth Days.

The good news is that more people are waking up to the realization that the systems of power, wealth, and governance are not working for them, or any other living thing, and that there are alternatives that are more just, participatory, and sustainable, or at least less damaging. There is renewed interest in permaculture and regenerative agriculture, for example. Community gardens, urban farming, food forests, and foraging are helping address food deserts in cities. Cooperatives and credit unions are looking a lot more humane, and less extractive, than corporations and banks.

Elevating Indigenous people, people of color in general, women, and other marginalized demographic categories into positions of power and leadership will help immensely in changing the trajectory of our world, for the betterment of all species. Priority must be given to enact change at a local scale, where experimentation is less risky, and results more immediate. There is zero room for politics, only teamwork.

Much as we may feel demoralized, replaceable with technology, and seemingly powerless to change any of it, we must begin living differently. Sometimes, that means dropping out of the systems that are destroying us. Your innovation and example are needed now more than ever.

Where's Walden?

Watching the three-part Public Broadcasting Service documentary Henry David Thoreau, I am struck by the fact that in many ways I am searching for my own Walden Pond, in more ways than geographical. It is more about finding community, and seeking accountability, as my years here on Earth dwindle.

Cranberry Pond, western Massachusetts.

There is no way I am even remotely in the same league as Thoreau. I have not even read nearly enough (including Thoreau!), for one thing. It has taken me more than twice the years to make the same observations, and arrive at the same conclusions, as it took Thoreau. In one sense I am embarrassed by that, and on the other I am proud of myself for coming to such realizations at all, in an age of distraction, and of global consumerism of goods and services rather than ideas and other intangibles.

What has shaped my perceptions, goals, and ideals, has been a conglomeration of mentorship, alternative media that I stumbled upon, the persistence of movements like Black Lives Matter, social media accounts and podcasts coming from otherwise suppressed voices in the LGBTQ, neurodivergent, disabled, Indigenous, Black, Hispanic, and other communities, plus my own observations and experiences.

It is becoming apparent that while my wish list for the ideal place to live the remainder of my days is one with a mostly warm, sunny climate, high biodiversity, public transit, diverse demographics, a robust healthcare system, and affordable cost of living, I am forgetting the need for creative inspiration and accountability. What I should be seeking is a community, or communities, of individuals that will demand of me those practices that I have been resisting or neglecting: writing regularly, reading, and collaborating with others. It is high time I become a literary mentor now, not “just” a mentor in entomology.

My partner and I could probably be happy in an even smaller house than our current two-bedroom here in Leavenworth. The likes of Thoreau’s one-room cabin on the shores of Walden Pond may be a bit too challenging, but I found it comforting to learn that he had friends willing to sleep on the floor for extended visits. We’ve all grown to have expectations of guest accommodations that are all about physical comfort, if not luxury, when what we value most is the camaraderie.

Thoreau could walk into Concord at will, which I find ideal, enjoying the literal pedestrian life that I do. I never learned to ride a bicycle, and am generally terrified of driving, at least in circumstances of congestion at speed. I currently walk with relative regularity, on a nearly three-mile route, which to this day is not at all strenuous. It takes me through a park with ballfields that is frequented by birds, squirrels, and at least one Red Fox, along its periphery by a creek. There is a forested park adjacent to the ballfields, but it is being managed for additional active recreation (a new frisbee golf course is intruding into the woods). If I walk in the opposite direction, non-stop, I can be downtown in about forty minutes.

In other aspects of life here, there is a reasonably vibrant graphic artists community, and my partner is active in it. Nothing similar for literary arts, though, or it is flying well under the radar. Youth, and minorities, however you define them, are seldom encountered except as service workers, and in schools. This is overwhelmingly a town of military veterans, current and former prison employees, and retirees who presumably cannot afford to live elsewhere. Yes, I freely admit I may be too judgmental. We do have good local restaurants, and a handful of unique small businesses that everyone appreciates, regardless of our differences.

My partner grew up here in Leavenworth, Kansas, and her parents still live here, too. She quickly adjusted to life here, and I have some misgivings about asking her to leave again, to assimilate to a place where both of us may not have existing friends, or any kind of support system. Still, continuing to live where I feel that I do not have a support system is becoming increasingly intolerable. Not enough of the residents share our values, or at least don’t express them. When you expand to the state level, it gets even worse.

Where, then, is my Walden, my Concord, my Massachusetts, my New England of yore? Where can I explore and once again be filled with wonder and hope, and have the family that has been so elusive for my entire existence?