WORLDFIRE - Chapter 22, Part III

Coming Home

So that is the story of how I found the way back to myself. You could say that I have fallen back in love with life. I feel immense gratitude for the miracle of my life. I feel immensely grateful for the miracle of each day. I find that the more I see things this way, the more miracles life presents to me. Whether we realize it or not, we are all swimming in a sea of endless possibilities. Modern society has conditioned us to walk through our days thinking of ourselves as human beings, maybe having the occasional spiritual experience, but I do not actually believe this. I believe what the philosopher Pierre Teilhard de Chardin once said: “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.” As a spiritual being, my soul in human form is seeking the path of highest service to the greatest good of all. On my journey home to the soul, I am seeking the path in the forest that brings me home to Gaia.

I am not saying I don’t still walk a tightrope balanced between hope and despair. I do. What caring global citizen would not despair at the sight of our unraveling world? What American patriot would not despair at the sight of the citadel of democracy being violently assaulted? But on those days when I struggle to see the light through all the darkness; on those days when I cry for the children; on those days when I fear for the future of our nation; on those days when I question how we can possibly realize the shift in consciousness we need in time to rescue civilization, I remind myself to stay open to surprises, for history is replete with societal tipping points. One I will never forget was the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989. To the shock of nearly everyone, it came down almost overnight. I foresee the climate revolution, once it begins in earnest, unfolding at similarly dizzying speed. But instead of one big dinosaur economy wall falling, it will be countless smaller walls of the fossilized old guard crumbling all across the globe. Once the great shift is underway, I see the transition unfolding so quickly our heads will be spinning.

As Van Jones helpfully reminds us in his book, Rebuild the Dream: “[E]very cause and constituency that people of conscience care about was in the garbage can, as recently as 1900. At the turn of the last century, women couldn’t vote. African Americans and other people of color had no rights at all. Workers had no rights or security; there were no weekends; there was not one paid federal holiday; there was no middle class to speak of. Kids were toiling in factories. There were no environmental protections at all. Not only did lesbians and gays have no rights; they didn’t even have a specific designation or acknowledged term in the English language. That was where we were in 1900.” Never forget that all of these victories were hard fought by people displaying uncommon courage, and that none of them were won without citizens of conscience engaging in nonviolent civil resistance. None of them were accomplished without what my friend and wilderness eco-warrior, Brock Evans, poignantly describes as “endless pressure, endlessly applied.”

As I learned myself, sometimes finding our way home requires leaving behind the comfort of the familiar to launch into the unknown. The human family has reached a fateful fork in the road. One road leads to continued climate breakdown, the other to a climate breakthrough. The road we know best leads to our disastrous devolution. The one we know least leads to our enlightened evolution. One is a dead end for civilization and a horror-filled future for our children. The other is an open road to a just new age that gives our children a fighting chance to survive, if not thrive. In his brave book, Boiling Point, visionary Ross Gelbspan writes that we can choose to “use the climate crisis as the foundation for a historically unprecedented common global project that would create the basis for a far wealthier, more equitable, and ultimately, much more peaceful world.” Gelbspan sees this common ground as “a hidden gift.” I, too, see a gift hidden in the heartbreak of climate breakdown, like a jewel buried deep in the soil, waiting to be unearthed. I call this shimmering jewel climate grace. This is the hallowed state of being we will experience within our souls, with each other, and with the rest of creation when we have proclaimed peace with the planet; when we have come home to our collective mother. This is where we get to delight in rediscovering Gaia’s wise ways. This is where we rediscover enchantment.

Many hopeful signs abound that we may yet come to experience such grace. But hope is not the same thing as optimism. I am hopeful because I know America can do this, but I am not naively optimistic America actually will. No rational cause for optimism exists. For what have we done, really, in all the time we have known about this crisis to address it? Until recently, almost nothing. We are only now, after decades, even beginning to acknowledge that we are in a climate emergency. Too many still live under the cozy illusion that there is time for incremental change. Too many others refuse to allow themselves to even think about it. Not thinking about it helped put an avowed climate denier back into the White House. Until more Americans engage by stepping into the climate arena, I cannot profess to be optimistic.

But hope does not need optimism to survive and my 2,500-mile heartland journey filled me with hope. For ten weeks, I pedaled up and down the Main Streets of “red” state America and “blue” state America and the only states I saw were the United States of America. Everywhere I went, I discovered an American people united in their desire to fulfill the dream of a green industrial revolution. I saw it in the Harley rider in Colorado who wants to see America go green. I saw it in the Kansas farmer who views renewable energy as part of the American way. I saw it in the homeless man in Missouri who just wants a green energy job. I saw it in the former coal miner in Illinois who welcomed me into his home. I saw it in the nuns in Kentucky who walk their green talk every day. I saw it in the Marine Corps veteran in Indiana who longs for climate action. And I saw it in the Maryland man who hungers to see Congress get back to actually doing the people’s work.

Looking back, I now see my heartland journey as a vision quest of sorts. I had shed the familiar to launch into the unknown to see what the spirit of America might reveal. What I found was something most politicians and pundits are unwilling or unable to see: our nation has gone so long without a generational mission the American people are starved for one. Too many inside the Beltway seem incapable of grasping the simple truth that accepting and meeting bold challenges is part of our national character. It is a trait I saw yearning for expression on America’s Main Streets. It is a longing I see in countless others today. There is a hunger in our national psyche to once again be part of something greater than ourselves. This can be hard to hear over the din of a vocal minority fomenting hatred, division, and violence, but despite the current coarseness of our national discourse, most Americans actually prefer civil discourse. Remembering this gives me hope when I survey today’s poisonous political landscape. It reminds me that we are witnessing the desperate, dying gasps of a crumbling old paradigm, one that is dying hard.

Live through a climate disaster, like I did, and you may discover for yourself just how caring and compassionate your fellow Americans are. For me, the only thing more overwhelming than the trauma of the firestorm that incinerated my past was the overwhelming outpouring of love, compassion, and support that emerged from the ashes. It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever experienced. I could write volumes about the extraordinary loving kindnesses extended to me and other fire survivors not just by friends and family, but by charities, churches, businesses, and government agencies. It was a magnificent display of empathy in action. I wouldn’t wish what happened to me on anyone, but the Marshall Fire showed me how tragedy has a way of bringing out the best in people. It showed me how by taking care of each other, we just might make it through the age of climate consequences intact.

One need not look very far to see that humans have an amazing ability to cooperate. The evidence is all around us. Just think about the last time you were in a car. How much cooperation from total strangers was required for you to arrive safely at your destination? The answer is a hell of lot. Because most drivers have agreed to a certain set of road rules to guide how we collectively negotiate traffic, we are able to commute to and from work daily, and for the most part, do it safely. This alone is a remarkable testament to the ability of humans to cooperate. Do not underestimate the power of our ability to work together. Do not minimize the yearning most people feel for a beautiful world at peace. I believe most Americans, if asked to be part of a generational mission to save civilization, would willingly answer the call.

I believe each of us came into this world with unique gifts to share with the world and that our real job in life is to figure out what those gifts are and share them. No one else can divine your unique purpose, but deep down, you know what it is. In sharing our gifts, we act in selfless service to others. In sharing our soul’s expression, we fulfill our destiny as souls. This book is my soul’s expression. I’m sharing it as my unique offering to the world. Expressed more artfully by the famous painter, Picasso: “The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.” It is not your job to save the world. That is too much to ask of any one person. But you are responsible for your own small part of it. So pick up the broken piece that speaks most pleadingly to you and use your unique gifts to fix it. Commit yourself to doing what your heart calls you to do. My heart hears the pleas of posterity and the planet. Yours may hear something else entirely. But whatever it is that calls you, your job is to listen and act. If everyone on the planet did but that one magnificent thing, I truly believe the problems of the world could be solved.

I felt a soul calling in 2010 to embark upon the outer journey that unexpectedly led me to the inner journey of creating this book. Both felt like my highest possible acts of service. Despite having no idea what the outcome of either act would be, I knew these two things were uniquely mine to do. Might Mission 11:11 be uniquely America’s to do? Only time will tell, but whatever path we choose must be one the American people can walk together, for the hour is late, the light grown dim, and our margin for error is slim. My soul calling is what shaped me into the person I am today. America’s soul calling will shape the fate of all generations to come.

And so a story that was launched under a dark cloud of despair now comes in for a landing bathed in the light of hope, for hope is what was gifted to me by the beautiful American people I met on my cross-country journey. In 2010, I was panicked by the state of the climate, with our prospects already bad and growing worse. By the time I finished writing this book, things had deteriorated to the point that one would be forgiven for having given up all hope. But even at this late hour, I have hope. Why? Because I saw a post-partisan dream of renewing America with renewable energy be warmly embraced by Main Street, America. Because I know we have more light in us than darkness. Because I know fortune favors the brave.

What fuels my hope the most is my refusal to believe that the mothers of the world–once fully armed with the truth of just how lethal a threat the climate beast poses to their children–will fail to rise up to protect them. When the mothers of the world unite is when things will start to get better, for what mother would knowingly deliver her child into the maws of a raging beast? I pity any politician or CEO who dares to stand between a protective mother and her child. They might just as well stand between a mama grizzly bear and her cub. There are a lot of fierce fathers out there, too. Most parents would sacrifice their lives in a heartbeat to save the lives of their children. Rescuing civilization will require each of us doing our part, but if we turn the climate corner, and do it in time, I believe we will have the mothers of the world–more than anyone else–to thank.

One who agrees with me is mother and grandmother Kathleen Dean Moore, who once wrote in an essay I will never forget: “A black-suited man with a shaved head, spokesman for the American Petroleum Institute, once poked a big finger into my face and said, ‘Don’t you ever ever ever ever underestimate the power of the fossil fuel industry.’ I don’t, truly I don’t. It has become clear that they will not stop until some greater force stops them. At the same time, I do not ever, ever underestimate the ferocity of mothers or the power of their love. I love my children and grandchildren more than I love my own life.” Then Moore asks “the question of the hour: What will be that force that stands in the way of the reckless destruction of lives, if it is not the power of those who give and support life? – the mothers and grandmothers, the aunties and godmothers, the women who love the children.” Bringers of life are far more powerful than purveyors of death. There aren’t enough black-suited men in the world to resist the power of feminine love unleashed.

I am a man with a hope-filled heart because I have experienced the best in humanity. As the late, great historian Howard Zinn reminds us: “If we remember those times and places – and there are so many – where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction.” Zinn asserts that “to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.” I have the kind of hope soulfully described by Zen Buddhist Norman Fischer: “Hope is wisdom. The wisdom to realize that the next moment is always unknown. Bad things can happen but good things can happen. I don’t know. I can’t know. Life is not subject to my limited knowing. It isn’t subject to my specifications for the future, but the future always comes. There’s always a next moment, an unknown moment. And that moment is inherently hopeful.”

So let us now move hopefully into that next unknown moment, together, knowing that we will be forever remembered as either the Greedy Generation that fearfully failed posterity or as the Generous Generation that bravely rallied itself to the cause of renewal. I bid us stand up and fight for humanity, for Gaia, and for all life on Earth. If we succeed in turning the climate tide, our deeds will echo through eternity. If we fail, let history show we at least went down swinging, fighting for all that we love. Our generational mission could not be clearer. We are being called to heroism on a scale never before seen. We are being beckoned, each and every one of us, to become our highest, truest, and bravest selves. We are being summoned to make the next chapter in human history one for the ages. It is the destiny of each of us to become an ancestor. What kind of ancestor will you be?

Our story began with a tribute to the inspiration of Project Apollo and that is how it shall end. Step back in time with me to 1971 and try to imagine yourself sitting inside the Apollo 14 command module “Kitty Hawk” rocketing its way back to Earth after a historic visit to the Moon. Picture yourself as one of the astronauts aboard that spaceship. Then imagine how you might feel after having realized the dream of walking on the Moon. Maybe you, too, would find yourself forever changed, like Apollo 14 astronaut Edgar Mitchell was, by what he saw peering out the window: “On the return trip home, gazing through 240,000 miles of space toward the stars and the planet from which I had come, I suddenly experienced the universe as intelligent, loving, harmonious. My view of our planet was a glimpse of divinity. We went to the Moon as technicians; we returned as humanitarians.” Most would agree that we have much to learn from those who have explored beyond our earthly realm and have experienced otherworldly wonders the rest of us have not.

Mitchell elaborates on that glorious glimpse of divinity: “As we were rotating, I saw the Earth, the Sun, the Moon, and a 360-degree panorama of the heavens. The magnificence of all of this, what this triggered in my visioning in the ancient Sanskrit is called samadhi. It means that you see things with your senses the way they are, but you experience them viscerally and internally as a unity and a oneness, accompanied by ecstasy. All matter in our universe is created in star systems. And so, the matter in my body, the matter in the spacecraft, the matter in my partner’s bodies was the product of stars. We are stardust. And we’re all one in that sense.”

It took leaving Earth for Mitchell to be able to see that we are inseparable from the Earth. It took leaving Earth for Mitchell to see that we are inseparable from each other. He saw that I am part of you and that you are part of me. I see our astronaut’s grand epiphany as a homing beacon for our struggling species. Understanding what he experienced in that spaceship rocketing home from the Moon is key to humanity’s survival. Bringing the epiphany down to Earth, the next time you walk past a tree, take a minute to think about how dependent you are on the oxygen that tree is exhaling and how dependent that tree is on you for the carbon dioxide you are exhaling. When you breathe in that tree’s oxygen, the tree, in effect, becomes part of you. When that tree breathes in your carbon dioxide, you become part of the tree. That’s oneness and reciprocity in a nutshell. If we are indeed made of stardust, then each of us has it within us to light up the darkness. If we are truly inseparable, together we can weave a new story for humanity, one that unites us as a human family and returns us to right relationship with Gaia. Such a quest is far more epic than flying to the Moon. It is an undertaking more heroic even than winning World War II.

Another who was profoundly changed by his journey into space was the iconic actor, William Shatner, who I once had the pleasure of encountering on a secluded beach in Hawaii. In 2021, Star Trek’s Captain Kirk boldly went where few have gone before by rocketing into space at 90 years of age. Reflecting back on the experience, Shatner describes in his book, Boldly Go, how looking out the window he “saw a cold, dark, black emptiness. It was unlike any blackness you can see or feel on Earth. It was deep, enveloping, all-encompassing. I turned back toward the light of home. I could see the curvature of Earth, the beige of the desert, the white of the clouds and the blue of the sky. It was life. Nurturing, sustaining, life. Mother Earth. Gaia. And I was leaving her.” Elaborating, he writes: “It was among the strongest feelings of grief I have ever encountered. The contrast between the vicious coldness of space and the warm nurturing of Earth below filled me with overwhelming sadness. Every day, we are confronted with the knowledge of further destruction of Earth at our hands… It filled me with dread. My trip to space was supposed to be a celebration; instead, it felt like a funeral.” Shatner then shares how the “overview effect” (also experienced by Mitchell) ultimately “reinforced tenfold my own view on the power of our beautiful, mysterious collective human entanglement, and eventually, it returned a feeling of hope to my heart.” Hope is transcendent.

It is a miracle that you and I were born on this amazing planet. Our Earth is a physical paradise. Take a moment today to look up at the blue sky that shields you from that dark void of space and blesses you with air to breathe. Think about how precious Gaia’s gift of oxygen is. Take another moment to feel the solid Earth beneath your feet. Consider how generous Mother Earth’s gifts of food and water are. These are wondrous things. Allow yourself to be enchanted by the beauteous beings with whom you share this glorious world. Why would we throw all of this away? Why would we tear down our only home? Why not instead devote ourselves to loving our mother, and to the cause of people living happily on a healthy planet?

Humans are a breathtakingly beautiful species when we get out of our heads and into our hearts. Moving out of our egoic minds and into our soulful hearts is how we raise the collective consciousness. Progressing from this powerful place of love, there is no limit to how high humanity can rise. Our Earth mother is inviting us–all of us–to rejoin the great dance of life. This is how we honor Gaia; by treating her and our other-than-human relations with love and respect, for one does not intentionally harm those you love and respect. In turn, we will be honored, loved, and respected. Sounds simple. It’s not. But reciprocity is how we weave ourselves back into the glistening web of life, where a whole world of magnificent beings is waiting to welcome us home. That is all Mother Earth is really asking of us.

Can you hear her crying? Can you hear Gaia?

Our mother is calling us home.

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