WORLDFIRE - Chapter 22, Part II

Coming Home

In 2021, the world witnessed another form of fearless love when 47-year-old Guillermo Fernandez, a self-described “Dad struggling for his children’s future,” launched a hunger strike in Switzerland’s Federal Square pledging not to eat until the Swiss parliament agreed to a scientific training on the climate emergency. It was hardly a radical demand. Inside Climate News reported on what drove this desperate father to court his own death: “The situation for our kids looks very, very grim… What is coming is an atrocity. I ardently desire to live, but to protect the future of my children, I am ready to die.” He acted after reading the IPCC’s latest climate findings. “‘It got in my head, the scenarios,’ he said. ‘The [most likely] curve drives you to hell, with 2 degrees warming by mid-century, 3C by end of the century. That probably means hunger everywhere and war everywhere. In 10 years time, when my daughter is about 20, she would lose total hope for the future,’ he continued. ‘Anticipating the despair that she would feel…that really broke my soul.’” Fernandez’s gambit paid off. After fasting for 39 days, the Swiss parliament agreed to an information and discussion session, and was subsequently briefed by climate experts. Some climate activists, starved for change, have fasted for even longer.

Countless other brave souls around the world–many of them Indigenous–are also doing the heroic work of putting their bodies on the line in defense of our children and the natural world. Giving voice to the voiceless in this way is a profound form of love. Doing your part does not require launching a hunger strike or engaging in peaceful civil resistance, but it does require making your own personal stand to ensure our continued existence. For despite the flames of the green fire rising, we are currently losing the climate war. Too few Americans are yet working to channel the deep love we hold for our children to stand up to those who are selfishly stealing their futures. Not enough of us are asking what we must do to ensure their safety. We are allowing the titans of the extractive economy, corrupted by power and blinded by greed, render the planet uninhabitable for posterity. Too many politicians remain in servile servitude to these climate saboteurs who would see the world burn before releasing their death grip on power. Instead of regeneration, we are bequeathing our youth a future filled with sorrow, suffering, and decay. We are breaking the sacred social compact of leaving our children a better world than the one we inherited. We are letting the world burn.

But this does not have to be how the story ends. We can choose to use this harrowing moment in history to reimagine a new way of being. The epic floods, droughts, wildfires, and superstorms assailing us are Gaia’s way of trying to shake humanity awake. We are being prompted to slow down, open our eyes, and see how the rest of creation co-exists on this living planet. We are being prodded to reconnect with the web of life or perish. As articulated by David Korten, author of The Great Turning, in a 2015 radio interview with The Shift Network: “Those that find their place of service to the whole, in the course of meeting their own needs, those species survive. Those that don’t find their place of service, for the most part, generally expire.” We have much to learn about cooperation from our other-than-human kin, many of whom have been here a lot longer than we have. It would serve us well to show more humility. It would serve us well to serve.

Too often do we forget that Homo Sapiens are also animals–human animals. Humans are an extremely intelligent species, but it is the height of arrogance to assume we are the most intelligent. In some ways, we surely are. In other ways, we clearly are not. Merriam-Webster defines the word intelligent as “revealing or reflecting good judgment or sound thought.” While our intellect has served us in countless marvelous ways, ask yourself why we are the only species on the planet that fouls our own nest by producing toxic waste. How smart is it, really, for humans to be driving so many species, including possibly our own, to extinction? If we are the most intelligent, why, despite knowing it is killing us, are we so stubbornly wedded to a polluting fossil fuel economy? For all our intellectual brilliance and technological prowess, we are the only species that has managed to destabilize the climate to the point that Earth may soon be rendered uninhabitable for humans. There are many forms of intelligence and the one I value the most is common sense. It is common sense to honor and respect your mother. A wise species does not abuse the one who feeds you, clothes you, gives you water to drink, air to breathe, a beautiful home, and life. You do not dishonor and despoil Gaia without paying the ultimate price.

As I see it, the real heart of the problem is our separation from nature. Author of “Last Child in the Woods,” Richard Louv, even has a name for this disconnect: “nature-deficit disorder.” We do not have to lose ourselves in the wilderness like John Muir to be cured from this affliction. But we do need to stop acting like we are apart from nature. Nature is all around us, under us, above us, and in us, with an endless stream of wisdom to impart. Gaia’s brilliance abounds. A tree in a backyard reminds us that each year brings a season of awakening, a season of abundance, a season of splendor, and a season of rest. A squirrel in a city park burying protein-rich acorns in anticipation of the sparsity of winter shows us the importance of squirreling away resources in anticipation of leaner days to come. A river-carved canyon, deep in the heart of the desert, demonstrates to us the power of persistence, and patience.

Just as planet Earth is unique in the Universe, so does each of Mother Earth’s precious children possess their own unique purpose, awareness, and intelligence. How sad then that we are the only species not collectively acting in service to the greater whole when our human friendliness so beautifully equips us to be of such service. More tragic still is how so many other-than-human beings who have so much to teach us are counting on us to be their friends so they can simply live. Humans are not here by accident. Mother Earth does not make mistakes. We incarnated for a reason. We, too, are expressions of nature. Could it be that our highest purpose is to actually use our human intelligence to humbly act in service to all of creation? Might our real role as humans be to work collaboratively with Gaia to consciously co-create a future that honors all of her children? I believe the answer to both of these questions is yes, but we serve best what we love, and we love best what we know.

How well do most of us really know Mother Nature? The answer for me is not very well–there is so much to learn–but the more I learn about our 4.5-billion-year-old Earth mother, the more she enchants me. As a species, humans have only begun to scratch the surface of understanding our home planet. To come to truly know the living world, and all the wondrous beings who co-exist here with us, is humanity’s next epic quest of discovery. No spaceships required. I get excited just thinking about all we will learn on this grand adventure. Embracing kinship over conquest will return us to the fold of our Earth family. It will bring us home to Gaia.

I am not suggesting the journey home will be painless or easy. It is part of being human to wrestle with hope and despair. While my rocket trike ride through the heartland was a profoundly blessed experience, I would be lying if I told you the years between when I returned home to Colorado and when I completed this book were similarly sublime. They weren’t. Some of those years were brutal.

Three years after the Ride for Renewables, I would find myself back in Washington, DC, sitting in my rocket trike, feeling bitter after having failed to halt the construction of the southern leg of the Keystone XL tar sands pipeline. After years of non-stop campaigning with allies against Keystone South, I had given everything I had to give and was emotionally, financially, and spiritually exhausted. Even after the tar sands were flowing through the pipe, I trudged on, using an unexpected opportunity of a face-to-face encounter with then Vice President Joe Biden to ask for a meeting to discuss shutting it down. I was nearing the end of a nine-day fast for immigration reform when he visited a group of us fasting in a tent on the National Mall. To Biden’s credit, he didn’t dodge my question, but told me I would have to take it up with his boss. So I used the opportunity of a face-to-face meeting inside the fasters’ tent with Obama’s Special Advisor, Valerie Jarrett, the following day to ask for that meeting with the president and sent her a follow up letter as requested. I made the same request the day after that inside a church with Obama’s Chief of Staff, Denis McDonough. But it was all to no avail. It was a David vs. Goliath battle and Goliath won.

Things didn’t get any more fun with the sudden onset of a hearing disorder that forced me to reinvent how to navigate life in a suddenly noisy world. Demoralized and depressed, I became a virtual recluse for most of the next two years as I slowly started to claw my way out of the darkness. Suffering from what I call situational depression–the situation being a deep unhappiness with the state of the world and the state of my life–it was my own dark night of the soul. They say sometimes you have to lose yourself before you can find yourself. I was lost. Too many years of living-on-the-edge activism had taken their toll. Decades of dogged planetary protection and political campaigning had left me beyond burned out. I was ash. This forced a reckoning with my soul.

In some ways, the despair was worse than the debilitating grief I experienced after my Mom died at the too-young age of 59. I don’t know what I would have done if not for the helping hands that reached out to me. I don't share this seeking your sympathy. I almost didn’t share it at all, knowing how many others struggle with challenges far greater than mine. But it feels important to acknowledge that life is messy and that my story is not all sweetness and light. Everyone suffers. I share it for anyone who may someday sink into their own cave of darkness as loving encouragement to never give up. For I learned something about myself in that shadowy place: that I had the power within myself to find my way back to the light. I discovered a reservoir of strength inside of me I didn’t know I had. I learned the value of refusing to be a victim and the importance of congratulating oneself at every small and large milestone reached along the way, for no matter how many friends and family you may have standing in your corner, you have to be your own biggest booster. I also learned that honoring healthy boundaries is essential for my soul’s health. I share all of this as a cautionary tale to my fellow activists to please take good care of yourselves. I wrote it to remind myself of my responsibility for my own wellbeing, without which I have little to offer anyone else.

Something that kept me tethered to the rest of the world in 2014 was writing the first draft of this book. I found purpose in making what felt to me like my most important contribution to the world. What gave me cause to get out of bed in 2015 was the Bernie Sanders presidential campaign. I rediscovered passion while working to help elect a genuine champion of the people president. On the heels of the Sanders campaign came more years of fitful healing and remembering what happiness felt like as I labored on the second, then third, drafts of this book. Finding the words was like following a breadcrumb trail back to life. While on that trail, I found myself gradually letting go of the old life I knew and putting my trust in the Universe to guide me to something new. In many ways, it was like rebuilding my life from scratch. That was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. But the depression I feared might break me instead broke me open, and into this opening seeped renewed hope. As the years marched on, happiness felt less and less like a stranger. In time, I even came to see a silver lining in my hearing disorder in how it led me to live a quiet life where contemplation and writing–not networking and organizing–became my central focus. It drove me into seclusion so I could finish this book.

One day on this long and winding journey home to my soul, I had an epiphany that ended much of my struggle. For years, I had been trying to find my way back to happier times in my life. Then it dawned on me there is no way back to happiness. I realized there is no path back to the past, for that place no longer exists. With this realization came a tremendous sense of relief. I have since come to comprehend that happiness is to be found in the present moment and that being fully present is how to fully live. I have also come to comprehend that the key to containing the worldfire is with the force of our soulfire. Love is our human superpower. Think about how profoundly our thoughts affect how we see the world. Our thoughts shape our words. Our words shape our story. Our story shapes our reality. Our reality shapes our world. So let’s make love the heart of our new story.

My cross-country journey was a desperate act of love, and love is what was so graciously returned to me. Somehow, through it all, the flame of hope that got lit on America’s Main Streets back in 2010 never got fully extinguished. Somehow, like that flickering flame, I emerged from the darkness with the embers of a fierce green fire still burning inside. That fire was further kindled by mystical encounters of the avian kind. Red-tailed hawks started visiting me again in 2015, with the flybys becoming regular occurrences since 2017. I took these sacred encounters from my avian friends as a sign to keep on writing, just as I took their appearances during my cross-country trek as a sign to keep on riding. Absent such reassuring visits to quiet my nagging bouts of doubt, this book may never have seen the light of day.

In the summer of 2019, mere minutes after finishing the second draft of the manuscript, I found myself doubly blessed by an avian encounter. Walking past the back door, I noticed out of the corner of my eye the shadow of a large bird on the ground. It was just a glimpse, but I have learned to pay attention. I darted out the door into the backyard, hoping it might be a hawk. It was that, and more. Flying directly above me, silhouetted by the sun against a pale blue sky, was a large red-tailed hawk and an even larger bald eagle, serenely flying in concentric circles, the eagle soaring a little higher than the hawk. The sight of those two majestic raptors ascending together took my breath away. I watched them do this graceful dance, circling each other as a thermal drew them ever higher into the sky until I could see the hawk no more and the eagle soared away. I took it as a sign to celebrate the milestone I had reached with the manuscript. It felt like we were commemorating the achievement together. Later that day, Hawk reappeared, again making his presence known through his silhouette on the ground in front of where I was standing. But for the shadow he threw down, I would not have looked up. He circled low several times while peering down at me, then like the eagle had done earlier in the day, caught an updraft and flew away; love on Spirit’s wings.

I feel deeply humbled by these sacred visits that are now a regular part of my Earth walk. It is not only Hawks and Eagles who commune with me. I have been blessed by close encounters with Whale, Bear, Fox, Bobcat, Weasel, Squirrel, Rabbit, Chipmunk, Coyote, Buffalo, Elk, Moose, Goose, Raven, Heron, Finch, Magpie, Woodpecker, Duck, Owl, Bat, Snake, Spider, Bee, Beetle, Wasp, Dragonfly, and many other sacred beings. These holy encounters keep me grounded by reminding me I am on the right path and being guided by Spirit. These interspecies connections affirm that I am honoring my life’s mission by doing the work my soul came here to do: help humanity protect our one and only home, not just for us and ours, but for all life on Earth.

Just as I believe human beings are imbued with Spirit, so do I believe other-than-human beings are inspirited. Humanity was once in right relationship with all our relations (many Indigenous cultures still are) until the myths of separation and human supremacy made us forget. For too long have we forgotten that we, too, are part of the Earth. For too long have we competed instead of cooperated. Look closely and you will see that all beings, not just humans, possess agency. Look closer and you will see that all species have their own dynamic communities. Listen to them and you will hear them communicating in their own unique languages.

Here is what else I believe: the answers to what ails humanity are just waiting to be shared by our more-than-human kin who naturally live in harmony with Gaia. For they don’t deplete the natural capital that sustains them. They don’t generate harmful waste. Their deepest teaching is to remind us that we are not apart from the Earth; we are part of the Earth. You are no more a visitor to your local ecosystem than your neighborhood squirrel. You are both residents of the land. But when we act as passive observers of the life around us, it is easy not to care about–to fail to love–other beings. When we act as active members of the larger community in which we live, it is easy to care about–to love–other beings. As you start to notice them, they will start to notice you. As you get to know them, they will get to know you. Before long, you may become friends. Try it and see what happens. You won’t want to help perpetuate a system that causes harm to your friends. This, dear reader, is the doorway through which we get to come home to Gaia. But crossing that threshold requires crossing the interspecies divide and a prerequisite for that is trust.

Here is a little story about trust. One sunny, summer afternoon, I was sitting on the back porch after eating lunch when I was buzzed by a small dragonfly. Now I love dragonflies. I love how they look. I love how they fly. I love everything about them. This dragonfly had a bright red abdomen with transparent black-laced wings. After zipping around me for several seconds, he boldly landed on a small plant not more than two feet away. Surprised, I leaned over to say hi, nodding my head in greeting. He seemed to do the same in kind, nodding his big-eyed head back. Stunned, I nodded again. He nodded back. Then we did it again. We were communicating! Excited, I decided to try something else. With childlike delight, I slowly extended my right hand and silently invited him to land on my outstretched index finger, assuring him it was not only safe, but soft. He flitted a foot closer and landed on a brick, peering up at me. I nodded and again invited him to land on my hand. He nodded back. Then he helicoptered up and alighted on my index finger, where he stayed and we saw each other for what felt like five minutes, but was probably more like five seconds, as I showered him with gratitude for his loving trust in me. I had never experienced such close connection with Dragonfly. We had crossed the interspecies divide. It was a deeply sacred honor, an exquisite moment of grace. It was one of the most treasured moments of my life. I kissed my finger where he had landed to forever cement the experience in my soul. Being befriended by an insect whose ancestors patrolled the skies 300 million years ago cannot help but shift how you see the world. It makes anything feel possible.

Someone I always trusted implicitly was my Mom. She was my greatest life teacher. She showed me what it was to be kind, compassionate, and forgiving by the example of her life. Then she showed me what true grace looks like in the face of her own death. That was the most painful, and awe-inspiring, education I have ever received. One of the last things my Mom told me before she left this earthly plane was to remember to have fun while protecting Mother Earth. I will never forget her saying that as we sat on the back porch. I think she worried about me, and with good reason. For too many years, I ignored her plea and ran myself ragged to the point of depletion, but I heed her sage wisdom now. My subsequent life experiences have tempered me. My pace is now less frenetic. Today I only work on what my heart calls me to do in joyful collaboration with others who share my hopes and dreams, and absent that, alone. Today I heed the voice of my soul. I like to think of it as sacred activism. The work I do now is for Mother Earth. My allegiance is first and foremost to her. This has brought me a semblance of inner peace. I now seek happiness by trying–trying–to treat each day I have on this planet as the miraculous gift that it is. Like that cold winter night I found myself tromping through a galaxy of crystalline stars shooting out of a snow-covered hillside flashing in the soft glow of a tranquil midnight moon–millions, billions, trillions of tiny bright stars brought down to Earth to enthrall any who cared to see. Or like that bright winter’s day I found myself breaking trail through sugary white powder bursting with yellow, red, blue, green, and orange crystals. It was like snowshoeing through a pile of glittering gems. I saw the colored crystals seconds after expressing my gratitude to the sacred water element for the glorious gift of snow. So as you can see, viewing challenges as “impossible” has little appeal to me. I find myself drawn to the great mystery.

The older I get, the less I care about what others think about what I think. The more life experience I have, the less I feel the need to explain myself to others. In this way, age has seasoned me. I am also finding that old dreams have less and less of a pull on me. I am learning to let go of yearning and to find happiness in the here and now. I still harbor dreams, but now I see life as more of a journey, not as a place to arrive. I have taken to heart the wise words of the late, great Earth warrior Edward Abbey, who once famously said: “One final paragraph of advice: do not burn yourselves out. Be as I am - a reluctant enthusiast....a part-time crusader, a half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of yourselves and your lives for pleasure and adventure. It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it’s still here. So get out there and hunt and fish and mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, climb the mountains, bag the peaks, run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, the lovely, mysterious, and awesome space. Enjoy yourselves, keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to the body, the body active and alive, and I promise you this much; I promise you this one sweet victory over… those desk-bound men and women with their hearts in a safe deposit box... I promise you this; You will outlive the bastards.”

So as not to burn out again, and maybe next time not rise from the ashes, I have become, as Abbey urged us to be, a “part-time crusader,” a “half-hearted fanatic,” for I have learned that we can fly farther, faster that way. If you have ever marveled at the graceful intelligence of a flock of geese flying in their V-formation across the sky, you have witnessed the genius of teamwork and of taking turns at the front. The lead goose works the hardest carving a path through the air, creating a small updraft that lifts the two geese behind, with the reduced air resistance making things easier for the two geese behind them and so on. When fatigue sets in, the leader drops back to rest. This is mostly where I have been flying during the years I have been working on this book. Yet my inner soul work has never been more profound. Nor has my connection to Mother Earth ever been deeper. Not a day now goes by that I don’t take time to somehow commune with Gaia. The wonder of it all is that she communes with me back. Nurturing this relationship with my Earth mother fills me with wonder. Honoring and loving Gaia feeds my body, mind, and soul.

NOTE: The written form of WORLDFIRE is the authoritative version. Any inadvertent errors in transcribing the recordings are mine and mine alone.