I am filled with such deep sorrow at all that has already been lost, consumed, destroyed, by humanity. I wonder if.. I hope that we can find a way… that somehow, there could be a way to recover, restore… for us to live in balance and turn back the tide of destruction.
I hope so too. I would love if humans could find a way to exist sustainably, even harmoniously, with the other species of our planet. But I don't think it can happen with our current philosophies... if we could change from a profit driven, wealth hoarding, convenience loving culture, if we could learn from cultures that did and do exist without destruction of the natural world, then maybe. I become more cynical as the years go on but this isn't helpful. Hope and action is what we need ❤️
It’s heartbreaking and so easy to feel helpless and hopeless. I’ve just returned from a work trip to Poland and the monumental waste and pollution created by air travel and all that’s grown up around - it’s hard to comprehend how this could ever be turned around. But still, I do hope.
In the 1970s I used to walk home from school (in the Mount Lofty Ranges) along a bush track. In the season there would be so many wanderer butterflies I would have to cover my nose and mouth so as not to breathe them in. They are admittedly an introduced species here, but their present absence (I occasionally see just one making the rounds of the garden) fills me with sadness and concern. The track has been macadamised now, and is encrusted with soulless houses. So it goes.
I like to think that the Neolithic peoples would be horrified, but even if they were, would we listen? Their actions at least were in the context of abundance, and they had no knowledge of elsewhere. Now we know otherwise (I hesitate to say better) but loss and decline and change will continue as long as humanity sets itself apart from and above nature and earth, air and water. I want to be optimistic, but it is hard.
It is so hard, isn't it? Our culture rests on a foundation of competition, profiteering, wealth-hoarding, othering. Without a change in the very foundations of society I don't see how we can change in the way we need to. And that sort of foundational change is... well, it usually only comes about through violence, and peaceful people who want to reduce harm to the world won't go there, while those currently benefitting from this system would probably very happily go there to squash those who threaten their power. It is hard to see a way out. Some days I find hope, others I find it very hard to.
It is unfathomable how quickly time has changed our beautiful earth. At least, in my lifetime. My daughter-in-law is from Southern Brazil. She has taken my son there several times. His first trip, he was blown away by the poverty. Called me one evening crying, his empathy for the people, experiencing how different his sheltered and want for nothing life, has been While others live in this poverty. But the land was incredibly beautiful, as well as the people. They have noticed changes in the environment there, even through their few years of marriage and visiting. They were there after the major flooding two summers ago. It was so eye opening. That after the large fires in the rainforest.
These changes are happening so fast, all over our precious home, our beautiful earth.
Your writing, Rebecca, is so real. You paint pictures, so mindful, so profound. You have a gift that is always a joy to read, even when you tell of darker times, changes beyond belief. The impressions your words leave on the heart, they stay with an ever changing perspective. A permanence on the soul.
Oh Heidi, this is heartbreaking to read. It seems to be relentless, this destruction. But thank you for your lovely and generous words. I find it hard to write about these things, and harder still to not feel able to end on a positive or hopeful note, and it is so good to know that my words, even these darker ones, mean something to you x
Beautifully toned writing, as always 🌻 I wonder if you’ve come across David George Haskell? Incredible, thought-provoking writing. Perhaps particularly his book ‘Sounds Wild & Broken’ - if you’ve not read, I recommend: https://www.faber.co.uk/product/9780571362097-sounds-wild-and-broken/
I recall when it wasn't so silent and am stunned by the change only 75 years into the so called Anthropocene (our current epoch of profound human impact on the Earth.) As of 2005, humans had built so many dams that nearly six times as much water was held in storage as flowed freely in rivers. Last night on my walk I saw a single bat against the moon working overtime for dinner and couldn't help whisper good bye. We are only soiling our own bed - when I was a young ecology student we would always say "Nature Bats Last". It will be here long after we are.
Nature will survive us, of course, and new species will thrive in our absence, but what of all those we wipe from the face of the planet, and all the suffering we inflict along the way? I used to find it hopeful that nature would always win out in the end, and in some sense I still do, but in other ways I wonder if it distracts from the awful mess and death and destruction we are causing today, the extinctions, the suffering and pain... I think I don't find it such a hopeful thought these days, after all.
It really is so deeply sad. Thank you for writing from the heart of this pain. Nature Bats Last isn't a comfort to me either - it's a clumsy way to rationalize and avoid feeling ecological grief by pretending to live in geological time.
It's incredibly sad to see so much nature disappearing and though there are stories of nature being restored around the globe, these stories nowhere near make up for what we're destroying.
Beautifully written, your description of bugs and butterflies, brought them to life, again from my Grandfather’s beautiful garden, near the Descanso gardens, in La Canada, Ca. I remember the butterflies, and strange looking bugs, sort of creepy, and the magnificent spider webs. I much preferred the lizards and Frogs.. Thank You 🧚 for the memories.
Beautifully written, thought provoking and so sad. I was just thinking the other day how few swallows there are here this year, and how few insects I have seen. Things have changed so much in my lifetime and I want to hold onto hope but it is hard.
Thank you so much for your beautiful writing every week, it is always a joy to read.
Thank you so much, I'm glad my words - even these darker ones - speak to you. I really wanted to end this piece with something hopeful, something light, but I just couldn't find anything hopeful enough to balance the truth of all this x
I grew up in the Pacific Northwest in a small town, and I have seen the decreasing biodiversity firsthand there; as an entomologist I will suddenly notice: 'I haven't seen that species for a few years!'. I have also lived in Indonesia for the past two years, and have been shocked by the absence in many places of large numbers of insects, even in some rural areas, presumably due to a mix of habitat loss, chemical agriculture and climate change. It is really tragic.
This is a powerful and deeply moving piece of writing. It captures a sentiment that many people who care about nature feel. While there are so many passionate people across the globe trying to make a difference, it often feels like not enough people truly care.
I try to hold on to hope, but every day I see or hear something that chips away at it, leaving me feeling despair. I am getting older, so much has gone in my lifetime. I worry for the future I will not see.
Thank you, Linda. I try to hold onto hope too, but I am finding it harder and harder. Some days it is easier to see light than others. But I worry deeply for the future, too.
I'm so glad to see others writing on this, Rebecca, and writing so beautifully. (Thank you too for the link to Skylar's piece.) After writing my recent piece on the topic (https://jasonanthony.substack.com/p/the-extinction-of-experience), I think more and more that shifting baseline syndrome should become common knowledge, and highlighted in any discussion of what we're losing now. It might feel like adding sadness to sadness to anyone grieving the current losses, but (as evidenced by your other comments here) this is something that most people can relate to, if they're at all in touch with their family history or local history.
Thank you for linking your piece, Jason - I'm looking forward to reading! It is good to know there is a whole chorus of us here singing out about this. It is the sort of thing that would be good to teach to young kids, before their 'baseline' really sets in - an understanding of the desert we have created, of what the natural world once was. But it is also so sad, and perhaps takes away the much-needed escapism and joy that young people should be encouraged to find in nature, too. Anyway, thank you for reading and commenting, wonderful to have you here.
What an extraordinary reflection! It's funny, my father has taken his farm back to the way it used to be when he was a child, and it is so alien to me now that I almost dislike it. The fact that we are slowly redoing the Earth, and undoing it, generation to generation, is a new idea for me. I will have a discussion with my husband later today. We restore only to what we know, or have a record of......there is so much sadness there.
yes, there is so much sadness... I think we always treat what we see in our childhoods with a sort of reverence that is often unhealthy. It sets a baseline that is hard to shift.
I am filled with such deep sorrow at all that has already been lost, consumed, destroyed, by humanity. I wonder if.. I hope that we can find a way… that somehow, there could be a way to recover, restore… for us to live in balance and turn back the tide of destruction.
I hope so too. I would love if humans could find a way to exist sustainably, even harmoniously, with the other species of our planet. But I don't think it can happen with our current philosophies... if we could change from a profit driven, wealth hoarding, convenience loving culture, if we could learn from cultures that did and do exist without destruction of the natural world, then maybe. I become more cynical as the years go on but this isn't helpful. Hope and action is what we need ❤️
It’s heartbreaking and so easy to feel helpless and hopeless. I’ve just returned from a work trip to Poland and the monumental waste and pollution created by air travel and all that’s grown up around - it’s hard to comprehend how this could ever be turned around. But still, I do hope.
In the 1970s I used to walk home from school (in the Mount Lofty Ranges) along a bush track. In the season there would be so many wanderer butterflies I would have to cover my nose and mouth so as not to breathe them in. They are admittedly an introduced species here, but their present absence (I occasionally see just one making the rounds of the garden) fills me with sadness and concern. The track has been macadamised now, and is encrusted with soulless houses. So it goes.
This breaks my heart. A local and global story all at once x
I like to think that the Neolithic peoples would be horrified, but even if they were, would we listen? Their actions at least were in the context of abundance, and they had no knowledge of elsewhere. Now we know otherwise (I hesitate to say better) but loss and decline and change will continue as long as humanity sets itself apart from and above nature and earth, air and water. I want to be optimistic, but it is hard.
It is so hard, isn't it? Our culture rests on a foundation of competition, profiteering, wealth-hoarding, othering. Without a change in the very foundations of society I don't see how we can change in the way we need to. And that sort of foundational change is... well, it usually only comes about through violence, and peaceful people who want to reduce harm to the world won't go there, while those currently benefitting from this system would probably very happily go there to squash those who threaten their power. It is hard to see a way out. Some days I find hope, others I find it very hard to.
It is unfathomable how quickly time has changed our beautiful earth. At least, in my lifetime. My daughter-in-law is from Southern Brazil. She has taken my son there several times. His first trip, he was blown away by the poverty. Called me one evening crying, his empathy for the people, experiencing how different his sheltered and want for nothing life, has been While others live in this poverty. But the land was incredibly beautiful, as well as the people. They have noticed changes in the environment there, even through their few years of marriage and visiting. They were there after the major flooding two summers ago. It was so eye opening. That after the large fires in the rainforest.
These changes are happening so fast, all over our precious home, our beautiful earth.
Your writing, Rebecca, is so real. You paint pictures, so mindful, so profound. You have a gift that is always a joy to read, even when you tell of darker times, changes beyond belief. The impressions your words leave on the heart, they stay with an ever changing perspective. A permanence on the soul.
Oh Heidi, this is heartbreaking to read. It seems to be relentless, this destruction. But thank you for your lovely and generous words. I find it hard to write about these things, and harder still to not feel able to end on a positive or hopeful note, and it is so good to know that my words, even these darker ones, mean something to you x
Your description of Orkney applies word for word to Ireland, sadly. So much loss 💔
Oh it is heartbreaking isn't it? It applies to most of the UK too, I fear. Emerald isles that are actually desert.
Beautifully toned writing, as always 🌻 I wonder if you’ve come across David George Haskell? Incredible, thought-provoking writing. Perhaps particularly his book ‘Sounds Wild & Broken’ - if you’ve not read, I recommend: https://www.faber.co.uk/product/9780571362097-sounds-wild-and-broken/
Thank you Larissa! I haven't, looking forward to reading 🥰
I recall when it wasn't so silent and am stunned by the change only 75 years into the so called Anthropocene (our current epoch of profound human impact on the Earth.) As of 2005, humans had built so many dams that nearly six times as much water was held in storage as flowed freely in rivers. Last night on my walk I saw a single bat against the moon working overtime for dinner and couldn't help whisper good bye. We are only soiling our own bed - when I was a young ecology student we would always say "Nature Bats Last". It will be here long after we are.
Nature will survive us, of course, and new species will thrive in our absence, but what of all those we wipe from the face of the planet, and all the suffering we inflict along the way? I used to find it hopeful that nature would always win out in the end, and in some sense I still do, but in other ways I wonder if it distracts from the awful mess and death and destruction we are causing today, the extinctions, the suffering and pain... I think I don't find it such a hopeful thought these days, after all.
It really is so deeply sad. Thank you for writing from the heart of this pain. Nature Bats Last isn't a comfort to me either - it's a clumsy way to rationalize and avoid feeling ecological grief by pretending to live in geological time.
Oh yes, that's such a wise way to put it.
It's incredibly sad to see so much nature disappearing and though there are stories of nature being restored around the globe, these stories nowhere near make up for what we're destroying.
Yes and these stories are so important, so refreshing, so hopeful, but I agree - they are, sadly, just not enough. But they are a light in the dark.
Beautifully written, your description of bugs and butterflies, brought them to life, again from my Grandfather’s beautiful garden, near the Descanso gardens, in La Canada, Ca. I remember the butterflies, and strange looking bugs, sort of creepy, and the magnificent spider webs. I much preferred the lizards and Frogs.. Thank You 🧚 for the memories.
Oh I'm so glad this brought back good memories for you, Stephanie, of a land abundant with life x
Beautifully written, thought provoking and so sad. I was just thinking the other day how few swallows there are here this year, and how few insects I have seen. Things have changed so much in my lifetime and I want to hold onto hope but it is hard.
Thank you so much for your beautiful writing every week, it is always a joy to read.
Thank you so much, I'm glad my words - even these darker ones - speak to you. I really wanted to end this piece with something hopeful, something light, but I just couldn't find anything hopeful enough to balance the truth of all this x
I grew up in the Pacific Northwest in a small town, and I have seen the decreasing biodiversity firsthand there; as an entomologist I will suddenly notice: 'I haven't seen that species for a few years!'. I have also lived in Indonesia for the past two years, and have been shocked by the absence in many places of large numbers of insects, even in some rural areas, presumably due to a mix of habitat loss, chemical agriculture and climate change. It is really tragic.
Oh that breaks my heart. It is tragic, there's no other way to frame it.
This is sadly very necessary reading, beautifully and clearly written as always.
Thank you John. It is the sort of piece I wish I didn't have to write, but felt compelled to.
This is a powerful and deeply moving piece of writing. It captures a sentiment that many people who care about nature feel. While there are so many passionate people across the globe trying to make a difference, it often feels like not enough people truly care.
I try to hold on to hope, but every day I see or hear something that chips away at it, leaving me feeling despair. I am getting older, so much has gone in my lifetime. I worry for the future I will not see.
Thank you, Linda. I try to hold onto hope too, but I am finding it harder and harder. Some days it is easier to see light than others. But I worry deeply for the future, too.
I'm so glad to see others writing on this, Rebecca, and writing so beautifully. (Thank you too for the link to Skylar's piece.) After writing my recent piece on the topic (https://jasonanthony.substack.com/p/the-extinction-of-experience), I think more and more that shifting baseline syndrome should become common knowledge, and highlighted in any discussion of what we're losing now. It might feel like adding sadness to sadness to anyone grieving the current losses, but (as evidenced by your other comments here) this is something that most people can relate to, if they're at all in touch with their family history or local history.
I'll send some readers your way if I can.
Thank you for linking your piece, Jason - I'm looking forward to reading! It is good to know there is a whole chorus of us here singing out about this. It is the sort of thing that would be good to teach to young kids, before their 'baseline' really sets in - an understanding of the desert we have created, of what the natural world once was. But it is also so sad, and perhaps takes away the much-needed escapism and joy that young people should be encouraged to find in nature, too. Anyway, thank you for reading and commenting, wonderful to have you here.
We have almost no lightning bugs (fireflies) anymore.
What an extraordinary reflection! It's funny, my father has taken his farm back to the way it used to be when he was a child, and it is so alien to me now that I almost dislike it. The fact that we are slowly redoing the Earth, and undoing it, generation to generation, is a new idea for me. I will have a discussion with my husband later today. We restore only to what we know, or have a record of......there is so much sadness there.
yes, there is so much sadness... I think we always treat what we see in our childhoods with a sort of reverence that is often unhealthy. It sets a baseline that is hard to shift.