Notes on Hope
I really don't mind winter weather. Growing up in northeastern Ohio, gray days and cold temperatures became my baseline expectation for that time of year. By contrast, my husband is a lifelong sun-worshipper, and by the end of February, ready to jump out of his skin and into a pool.
Over time, I've learned to chirp (no easy feat for a personality far more snarky than soothing): hang in there—just another week—I promise, spring's almost here.
This year, though, the first weeks of March offered up more 70-plus-degree days than I'd ever experienced in Indiana during early spring. Often, it was warm enough to hike outside and take in the emerging crocuses and daffodils and even some tulips.
Counter-balancing my pleasure, though, was a little guilt—actually, more than a little. Weather simply does not behave as it used to, and average temperatures of past years have far less predictive value. Yes, I was enjoying a long hike next to a brimming lake, but why had spring arrived so early?
I felt stuck—not able to fully embrace my enjoyment and not wanting to ignore what's become an ominous reality. I suspect many of us are trying to navigate this space, trying to think and act responsibly, trying to contend with black-and-white narratives that deny climate realities outright or declare it's too late to do anything about them.
In response to those narratives, the spectacular essayist Rebecca Solnit offers her own: the narrative of hope. But Solnit is no cockeyed optimist. According to her, hope is "not the belief that everything was, is or will be fine. The evidence is all around us of tremendous suffering and destruction."
But Solnit encourages us to learn to tolerate the confusion and discomfort we feel in the face of that suffering and destruction, because "in the spaciousness of uncertainty is room to act." She says that, when we allow both our grief and our hope to coexist, then our engagement can occur. Our despair diminishes, and our action—whether in the form of advocacy, behavioral change, or voting—becomes possible.
As I wrote these Notes, I often thought of the first Emily Dickinson poem I ever read: "Hope is the thing with feathers."
“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
I loved the metaphor she employed, of hope "perching" so gently, yet enduring so mightily. To me, the poem illustrates that our hopefulness is neither naive nor weak, but rather, shows fierceness and grit, especially given the forces compelling us to despair, give in, and give up.
In the spirit of both hope and action, and in honor of National Earth Month, I'd like to celebrate just a few of the many innovative environmental actions now underway in the world:
Save Soil: a global grassroots movement to halt the extinction of topsoil, the fragile layer of organic matter that allows for agriculture and water retention. This movement has inspired and rallied citizens, governments, and influencers around concrete, achievable goals.
The Ocean Cleanup: a nonprofit that is developing and scaling technologies to remove millions of tons of plastic from the oceans. Also, have a look at companies like Clearbot and Wasteshark that deploy eco-friendly watercraft for pollution removal.
Recently, I wrote about the bold actions being taken to address the Cauvery River crisis in southern India: "Old River, New Story: Solving the Cauvery Crisis.”
Recommendations:
Rebecca Solnit's Not Too Late is a collection of essays on rejecting despair related to climate change and recognizing that there is still time for corrective action. You'll find there an excellent list of inspiring (and relieving) climate-related victories. For a shorter Solnit essay, see "Why We Need New Stories on Climate."
Nick Googins' The Great Transition is both an eco-thriller and a page-turner! Though set in a dystopian future, it beautifully highlights the opportunities available to us right now and strikes a hopeful chord about humanity's resilience and what we can achieve together.
Notes on (Eco)Poetry
It always delights me that National Poetry Month and National Earth Month occur together in April. After all, nature and Earth have inspired some of the most beautiful poetry in existence. Consider Wendell Berry's "The Peace of Wild Things," Mary Oliver's "The Swan," Marge Piercy's "More Than Enough," and Ann Spencer's "Earth, I Thank You."
Recommendations:
Earth Song is a collection of eco-poetry by past and present-day poets. Edited by Sara Barkat, it is arranged (as you might suspect from the title) like a piece of orchestral music, so that the book's structure enhances its gorgeous content.
For those wishing for a beautifully integrated reading and writing experience of eco-poetry, Earth to Poetry is a guide to nurturing our love for the earth via our own creativity and art.
Notes on the Writing Path
Earth, environment, and ecology are frequent themes in my own poetry, and I recently had the opportunity to share some of those pieces at the Indianapolis Artsgarden.
If you have a chance to listen to the recording, I'd love to hear your thoughts!
I appreciate your interest! If you'd like to read more of my work, some of it is featured on my website: DheepaRMaturi.com.
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In the meantime, I’m so glad you’re here! Thank you for reading, and see you in a few weeks!
-Dheepa
I enjoyed your essay and look forward to exploring some of the links. This is good work you are doing, Dheepa.
You stirred my soul. Will start my own “ The wolf is coming” but the problem is the wolf ( climate change) is here already!
Rom Rammohan