There is no Planet B.
And even if there was another planet in the Universe as hospitable to life as this one, we can’t get to it. No matter how much we wander, migrate, emigrate, perigrinate, creep crawl fly run or hike, we’re all still here on the same third rock from the sun.
Some of us see the Earth as a beautiful Garden of Eden, flush with wondrous forms of life and diversity, while others view it as a treasure chest of riches free for the taking and exploiting, with no regard for the consequences of the plundering.
This is the point to which homo sapiens‘s 100,000 year journey on this globe has taken us: an epic battle between those who care about the Earth and all it’s life-forms and those who would plunder it for personal gain. Who will win? According to my anthropologist friend Dr. Davey, the quest for short term gain inevitably beats out long term planning throughout the history of human cultural evolution. Indeed, all species eventually go extinct for one reason or another. Based on what is known about the time-lines of our predecessors (Australopithecus, The Cro-Magnons, Neanderthals, etc), our species has perhaps another 25,000 years left. Maybe. Other scientists such as Stephen Hawking predict that the earth will be uninhabitable in only 600 years.
So what is an aging, relatively intelligent but perhaps not quite intelligent enough, wandering/ wondering `tree-hugging earth-loving primate type creature to do? If extinction is inevitable and we have already crossed the point of no return in setting the world on course to become uninhabitable, perhaps there is no reason to bother fighting to save it. We can fiddle while Rome burns and enjoy the music. Even the Green New Deal won’t save us.
Another option, pursued by many, is to hand over our collective fate to a “higher power,” leaving it at the doorstep of divinity. I can certainly see the appeal of this line of thought, and engage in it frequently, although my conceptualization of the form and function of a higher power is unconventional and fuzzy around the edges.
The thing that nags at me is this: what if said higher powered entity expects us to figure it out on our own, having given us all the tools and knowledge that we need to do so. Tough Love. Let the kid figure out how to walk on her own, because what doesn’t kill you makes you strong. If she’s good and conscientious and tries to the best of her ability, then maybe provide a little padding on the crash landings. Maybe not.
As tempting as it is to shrug it off and say that I’m too small and powerless to make a difference, I am constitutionally incapable of not trying to leave the planet in better shape than it was when I started. Besides, my father would doubtless return from the netherworld and haunt me the rest of my days if I were to convert to “slacker-ism.”
Yesterday I hit the 1000 kilometer mark on my Virtual Marathon . I virtually passed through a virtual Nairobi and am on my way to Tsavo. Meanwhile, Lois Hild, whose avatar I am, traveled non-virtually along much of the route and has been posting some amazing photos of the wildlife along the way (the best way to see her incredible images is to follow her on Instagram). My trails took me exploring more locally.
As I tromped along through the rain, snow, sleet, hail and occasionally beautiful sunshine, I gained a more intimate appreciation for the power of the natural world as expressed through our atmosphere; that is, stormy weather. In fact, I got soaking wet more than a few times!
The storms of February and March wreaked havoc all over Northern California, especially in the forests and steep hillsides where there were trees and vegetation to be knocked over, uprooted and slung about, unstable slopes of rock and mud to be thrown and skidded down cliffs and hillsides, and creeks and rivers to be suddenly inundated and sent roaring on their way down to the valleys and into the ocean.
And all the while as the storms were raging and raining chaos and destruction, new life was emerging. The saturated soil was springing to life- nourished by water and the sudden gift of new sources of nutrients left in the wake of the wreckage.
Spring sprung.
It’s the Higher Power of nature.
Thanks for reading (and sponsoring me!)
Happy Trails,
Shirley & Co.
