My town is starting to pick up the pieces. 2023 hasn't been the easiest year here in north-central Vermont. Winter fought to stay around even harder than usual, snowing on and off into May. The frogs emerged and began to mate, but the ice and snow returned and killed many of them and their offspring. Then the rains began–crops and gardens struggled to grow with abundant water and little sun, and then the waves of toxic wildfire smoke arrived.
And then last week's flooding. As the news has dramatically displayed, intense thunderstorms dropped so much rain in just a few hours the damage was already worse in most places here than during all of Hurricane Irene in 2011. And Vermont was certainly not alone–similar devastation was experienced in New York, Pennsylvania, and beyond. Less than 48 hours later, the third wave of toxic wildfire smoke arrived. People can't breathe indoors, ridden now with damp, mold, and mildew and they can't breathe outdoors from smoke and particulate matter. And then there's the intense heat over most of the United States and around the world, tornadoes, and much more.
I'd love to be able to turn this into something uplifting. But I have no pretty bow with which to neatly tie up the events going on all around us. The Earth is trying to give us a pretty darn clear message. It, and its atmosphere, are greatly out of balance and, just like with the human body, it is letting us know in more and more dramatic ways. For years, I ignored every sign and symptom my body gave me. There was simply too much to do, too many deadlines, people to care for, and mundane earthly worries for me to stop and listen and find out what it truly needed. And I ended up ill and largely bedridden for several years. I'm praying the humans of our world can see and hear these symptoms before we reach that point, as I know we all are.
So, there is no quick, easy fix for our climate challenges or our faltering Hope. Many of us know what is going on and have for quite some time. Al Gore spoke to this in his article this week in the New York Times. But we lack the agency to make the remainder of the human race alter their behaviors to change the course of events. And this feeling that we have no agency is often the root of our eco-grief and anxiety and the place where our Hope dissolves and falls away. Lack of agency and isolation are what seem to intensify this hopelessness for so many. If you are in that place, please go now to our Eco-anxiety section to find supportive print and multimedia resources. You'll also find a number of good meditations for eco-anxiety and grief on Insight Timer and YouTube, like this one.
The people of Montpelier, Vermont have a long road ahead to rebuild homes, businesses, lives. It will take time and it won't be linear. And we can't expect too much too quickly from our Hope rebuilding either. It will take time. And it won't be linear.
Six hummingbirds swirl around each other outside my bedroom window. When it's hot and sunny they love it; torrential downpour, love it; and when the waters rise, they rise as well and fly above the flood. This brings me Joy. Their loops and nosedives and constant little peeps are my tangible Joy. It's not the same as Hope, but it's a good place to begin–one of the essential elements in its sometimes elusive alchemical mixture. A recipe that will take time to build and blend and brew.
So, the issue of agency is tough. We can and will raise our voices louder and stronger than ever before, but it's certainly a hard road to be heard in a very noisy and confused world. But as for the isolation, you don't need to worry about that any more. I'm right there with you. So many of us are, which makes us a community. You're not alone. It doesn't magically solve any of this. But it's a pretty good place to begin.
And yes, we should begin again, even if weather events continue and intensify. Even if we feel our voices aren't being heard or making an impact. What else are we going to do? Give up? Just lay down and stop caring?
Last night there was an outdoor concert in the countryside a few miles north of Montpelier with the South African singer, Nomfusi. People flowed in from all around the devastated area and gathered to give each other support. Subdued at first, by the end most of the crowd were dancing and singing together, holding hands and forming a huge circle around the band. Celebration in the face of devastation. When the following powerful song was played, dry eyes were few. So, I will never give up. I refuse to give up. Please don't ever give up.