Dark clouds gather in the future and fog obscures our path. The days when the future seemed sunny and idyllic have passed. Occasionally, rays of sunlight shine through—promising news of a COVID vaccine, for example, or our recent election results. Have we, as we compulsively doom-scroll our excruciating national story, become so addicted to doom that good news hardly registers? Or is there simply so much darkness that these glimmers of light offer little hope?
Climate change has ruptured the dining room wall of our palace, and is beginning to intrude further and further. We eat our breakfast, ignoring it. It’s been comfortable here, and we’ve been provided for materially. We’ve liked that as time’s gone on, it’s gotten more and more comfortable. We’ve imagined that, some day, everyone could live here in comfort and harmony. But it’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore that the future of this palace, a society organized around fossil fuel intensive ways of life, the product of European-rooted civilization, colonialism, and extractive capitalism, is one of ruins.
In the shadow of the immense climate crisis, what difference could it possibly make to bike to work or eat less meat? The mismatch between what we’re being asked to do and the size of the problem has created disillusionment, as changes in personal lifestyle like these have been promoted as a primary way to prevent climate change. It’s natural to ask: how are my tiny choices going to do anything about our civilization’s fundamental energy system? What good is reducing the size of my carbon footprint when it’s just a billionth of our collective carbon emissions?
Edmund Mills, Ph.D. writes about the inner dimensions of climate change, seeking a collective path forward that frees our hearts and while equipping us to respond effectively.
