My brother Lumpkin just sent me an email. He's sitting at home in his shorts with all the windows and skylights open. He lives in New York. It's January.
Stop and think about that for a moment.
On Christmas day, Melbourne and NY shared the same temperature. Middle of summer; middle of winter. I am starting to think that my Master's advisor may have been serious when he told all of his grad students to buy land in Manitoba.
I had a nightmare a few years ago in which The End had come. My friend KC and I were in a tent in the middle of an apocalyptic desert surrounded by blowing sand and searing sun, applying duct tape to the zippers to try and keep the toxic winds out. And then we huddled together, recalling images from our favourite hiking spots: the towering green freshness of the redwoods; browned California hills scattered with wildflowers and scraggly oaks; the glacier-smoothed granite of the Sierras. And we cried at the loss which was so much greater than our own lives. I woke up soaked in desolation.
I am still occasionally gripped by panic at the thought that the Earth is going to hell in a hand-basket. Or more correctly, that Homo sapiens is going down and taking most things with it. And then I get an email from my bro and I realize that this is actually happening. This is not some nightmare. This is not a thought to try to avoid in order to feel better. This Is Actually Happening. Will politicians wake up in time to avert the worst of it? I don't know. Can I do much more than I'm already doing? I don't know - we have green power, barely drive, vote for people who understand environmental issues, and shop with a conscience. Is it enough? I don't know. Do I feel hopeful? Rarely.
Prognosis: bleak.
1 comment:
sheesh. now i feel guilty for even mentioning it. if it makes you feel better it's supposed to be down into the thirties by tuesday. this is, sadly, more appropriate weather.
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