I thought this year was going to be ecstatic, coming out of two years of off-and-on quarantine. I thought we were going to Party with Purpose. I was ready for the new renaissance as people threw off their masks and started rejoicing in our shared struggles and survival, wondering what’s next, ready to build the new world. That was the optimistic side of me running a little wild.
Instead, the universe knocked me down to my knees, made me face the humility of being alive at all. I had a deep crash, a medicated depression, a few months of brain fog and confusion, wondering what the point of anything was.
Whenever I get too down or too dissociated, the natural world always brings me back. That tree. That squirrel. Those birds. Just walking around the neighborhood helps.
Nature has a calming effect. Grounding.
There’s this stretch of grass on my daily walk to the lagoon that I love to cross barefoot. I stop, take my shoes off, and revel in the grass underneath my feet. It’s very healing to walk barefoot on Mother Earth.
The gift of nature is the vision of the web.
Natural ecosystems have checks and balances, every living thing interacting with other living things. Humans have become so disenfranchised from nature that we don’t always realize that everything we have is from the earth, this incredible planet full of so many resources. The web of life.
What hubris for humans to extract without replenishment. That’s what the capitalist viewpoint misses: We need to work in tandem WITH the natural ecosystems, not just decimate the earth until there’s nothing left. Can’t we see what a losing move that is? Of course we need a habitable planet! How is that hard to see?
I think what is needed in the world is global empathy. Empathy for people across the world that you will never meet, for future generations you will never meet. Because we are all human. We all share similar needs, desires, and joys. We’re all one species. We need to learn from each other, not destroy each other. There’s no group of humans that are inherently better than other humans. We’re all deserving of resources. The global imbalance pains me.
Whenever I get too depressed about everything, I return to nature. I find faith in nature. I find peace. This world is so much bigger than any one of us, and we’re all connected. We are a human web within the web of life. I have to believe that the web of life is more magical than the forces of destruction. (Like Ferngully, my favorite childhood movie. That film creates tiny environmentalists.)
In the depths of despair, nature brings me back to the humility of being alive, of being some alive creature on this planet, alongside billions of other alive creatures. What a strange thing that is. To be a part of the web of life. It strikes so much awe in me that it replaces the other feelings of fear and dread.
To be alive is mysterious, and we all get to live this mystery every day.
It slows me down, helps me remember that everyone else is living their lives at this exact moment, all of us moving forward in the mystery of time. It’s not a race. It’s not a competition. I’m not ahead or behind anybody, better or worse than anybody else. I’m just where I am and they are where they are.
Humility.
Humility expands our capacity for connection.
We are better able to empathize with others, which makes us more cooperative, which in the long run means survival. Humans are a tribal species. We depend on each other to survive.
Now we’re globally interconnected more than ever before.
My life is a droplet in the ocean of 8 billion human lives. Sometimes that makes me feel insignificant and tiny, but at a deeper level, I know that what I do matters because we are all intricately connected on the web of life. I want to simultaneously hold love in my heart for everyone in the world enduring extreme suffering, and at the same time embrace the light-heartedness of love. Can I be both empathetic and light-hearted at the same time?
Be less attached to suffering, my higher power says.
Humility says, I’m not in control of everything. I don’t know everything. So I let go of my judgments, and in doing so, free up space in my heart to live my own life in the present moment. The only place we ever really are.