It’s Getting Hot In Here

It’s way past my bedtime, my body is screaming for sleep, and I am in utter unrest.

“6.3 degrees, 6.3 degrees, 6.3 degrees”…it keeps racing through my head.  According to a Washington Post article in late September, 6.3 degrees Fahrenheit is how much the planet will warm by the end of the century… even if the nations of the world pass the most ambitious climate policies currently on the table (http://bit.ly/6_3degrees).

6.3 degrees carries us twice past the point of what the world’s scientists call “catastrophic climate change.”  And I can’t help but wonder, what does that even mean?

I can barely even think straight, I’m so stunned and panicked.  What will the world look like by the time we finally stumble away from our addiction to fossil fuels?  What will I tell my children when they ask, “what took you so long?”  What will any of us have to say?  It’s so much grief, I just want to shut down altogether.  But a few questions occur to me:

What really matters to me about climate change?

If we’ve locked ourselves in for some degree of climate chaos, no matter what we do…well, then what do we want to do??  What becomes important at that point?

And what does this mean for my life’s work?

Thinking about these questions, I’m still awake, in total unrest.  But it’s a blessed unrest.

Even with the dire forecasts, the science is clear: We have a few years left to spare ourselves of the worst, if we act swiftly and boldly.  So, we absolutely must fight like hell for swift and bold action, nationally and globally.  But regardless the outcome of those efforts, we absolutely must also dedicate our lives to preparing humanity to respond compassionately to whatever comes to pass.

Recently, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and saw the future.  It was a Great Exodus.  I saw hundreds of millions of Mothers, Fathers, Daughters, & Sons, running, holding hands, carrying babies, as floodwaters swallowed their homes and their heritage… I saw levees crumbling and dozens of Hurricane Katrinas pounding coastlines, year after year… and I saw our non-human Brothers, Sisters & Friends retreating out of view, first into preserves, then zoos, and finally just outdated biology textbooks.

But what mattered to me most was not the situation itself.  What really struck me was how we chose to conduct ourselves.

I saw people who had the priviledge and fortune to just fend for themselves and turn away in the midst of all the turmoil, but who chose otherwise.  I saw these heroes welcoming climate refugees into their homes, studying their languages, and learning their stories, songs, and sacred rituals… I saw them smiling and handing over dollars, clothes, and toilettries so their neighbors could eat, drink, stay healthy, and sleep soundly… and I saw them standing up, organizing with their votes and their pocketbooks, giving governments and corporations no viable course of action other than to serve the needs of life over the needs of profit.

I saw civic leaders, public officials, and business chiefs solemnly taking new oaths to act in the service of healing and repairing the damage done.  I saw citizens and leaders representing the entire community of nations engaging in Global Truth & Reconciliation Commissions, trembling, weeping, and embracing as they mourned and forgave for past injustices, and committed to each other’s future protection.

Having seen all this, I opened my eyes, totally dumbstruck.  I’d been so focused on preventing the worst before it was “too late,” I’d never even thought about what would happen once Nature had given us Her verdict.

But what if humanity’s compassionate response to Nature’s verdict is really what matters?  And if this is really what matters… is there really such a thing as “too late”?

Is it naïve to think that the Human Family might come together in these turbulent times ahead?  Or is it possible that this future is, in fact, absolutely necessary?

Realistically, what choice will we have but to come together, as our fertile farmlands wither into arid deserts, our freshwater supplies drain, and our cities grow increasingly crowded?  What choice will we have, as unlivable climates push millions closer to desperation and the temptation of a warm meal, religious study, and promised paradise for suicide martyrdom?  What choice, when the pull of the right trigger or the push of the right button could extinguish all life on this planet several times over?

What kind of consciousness shift might be necessary if we are to lay down our tools of violence, and spare ourselves from mutually-ensured destruction?   What depth of collective compassion might we need, in order to willfully and joyfully share together a shrinking harvest with our hungry neighbors?  And what strength of spirit might we require in order to maintain calm, reason, and good humor, while our economies and the ecosystems upon which they depend collapse all around us?

What might it take to achieve humanity’s moral & spiritual coming of age, on the timelines that we now know Nature demands?  What might we need to be doing, starting right now, to ensure we get there?  And how might a movement combine the spiritual and the political in a way that could be mutually enhancing?

Right now, it seems particularly important to me to open this inquiry.

Before I go to sleep, there’s a story I’d like to share about a Cherokee elder, who was teaching his grandchildren about life.  He drew the children around him one night as they sat by the campfire and looked around the circle and said, solemnly,

“There is a fight going on inside me. It’s a terrible fight! And it’s between two wolves.  One wolf represents fear, anger, envy, sorrow, and resentment. The other wolf stands for joy, peace, love, hope, and kindness. This same fight is going on inside of you and every other person too.”

The children sat wide-eyed and thought for a minute. Then one youngster asked, “But Grandfather, which wolf will win?”

The old Cherokee paused and looked into his grandchild’s eyes and replied, “The one I feed.”

If our lives in this moment in history are meant for fighting, may we fight to feed the choice of love in the human heart.