Dreaming the World

Today is a seasonal day, cloudy and chill; there is an even chance we will have a passing shower. We have been strangely dry for most of the past couple of months, our autumnal storms suppressed far to the south.

Here by the water most trees are green, although more color appears each day. A bit further inland color change is more pronounced and rapid, with areas of brilliant color. Many lawns have sprouted political signs rather than mushrooms, and the tone of many is simply nasty.

This week yet another report on the state of Nature appeared, this one revisiting the decline in all animals; the painful outcome was that we have lost 75% of all animals against the baseline year of 1974. Many of those loses are extinctions, and the rate of extinction is increasing daily.

There is much that is surreal in a world oblivious to the yearly increase in silence as bird and insect populations crash, and wildlife habitat disappears. We are watching the world empty of creatures other than ourselves, and for me at least, the loneliness and sadness only grow.

I probably should not be surprised that seemingly no politician is speaking to the fading away of so many species and ecosystems. I read somewhere recently that only about 14% of voters care significantly about climate change, let along the destruction of the very systems we need to survive and thrive. I wonder whether this is because so many of us now live in cities, largely cut off from non-human nature. Surely our focus on screens doesn’t help. (Then there are those who want to force a hoped for Second Coming by making the world uninhabitable.)

A couple of weeks ago we arrived home to the presence of a neighbor in the field next to our house. He was carrying a big stick in an effort to scare away the herd of deer that frequents the field. (The field’s owner mows frequently so there is always fresh forage.) It turned out that his dog, who was inside the house, would not stop barking at the deer so rather than simply close the curtains, he chased off the deer. We have not seen them since, although I imagine they will return at some point.

These days I am often reminded that societies come and go, as do ideological waves within them. It seems a very far distance back to the time when Americans overwhelmingly supported preserving nature. In the interim an ideology of sacrifice took over, mostly driven by greed, that insisted a functioning natural world and a vibrant economy were incomparable. Now even ecotourism, which has always been a highly problematic enterprise (I have worked in the field), is threatened by the tsunami of environmental collapse. Bizarrely, this all seems largely invisible to most people.

I recently saw a study that compared levels of compassion among college students. The baseline was fifty years ago when 3/4 of all students scored well on empathy. Recent testing suggests that only 1/4 of today’s college students score well on the same measures. Perhaps most people simply don’t care.

From a shamanic perspective this is all both heartbreaking and Nature doing Her thing. In spite of scientific promises of immortality and ever increasing abundance, our species will invariably pass into history. Even if some are able to board space ships and move to other planets, many will be left here to make their way among the ruins. In a million years there may well be little trace of us left.

As an ecologist I know, as happened during the pandemic, that many animal populations and ecosystems can recover if given a chance, but wonder whether we humans are willing to sacrifice a little in order for them to do so.

I, as a person and artist, find myself struggling to stay emotionally afloat in the midst of the unfolding disaster. I know the arts are more crucial than ever now, but often find myself with no clue how to move forward. I imagine I am not alone.