WORLDFIRE - Introduction

This is a Message of the Emergency Broadcast System. This is Not a Test.

photo credit: Ron Foster

On December 30, 2021, I became a climate refugee.

If you don’t think it could happen to you, you might want to think again.

I never pictured myself being on the receiving end of a climate disaster like Colorado’s Marshall Fire but I really should not have been surprised. It had been a troublesome fall. In all my decades living in Boulder, Colorado, I had never experienced the months of October, November, and December without any significant snowfall. Every passing day without snow deepened my sense of unease. A weirdly wet spring had supercharged the growth of native prairie grasses, with the stalks standing tall as bone-dry tinder thanks to climate-driven record-setting heat earlier that summer and fall. Add to the mix persistent hurricane-force winds battering the Front Range all day long, and the only missing ingredient was a spark.

A neighbor called to warn us the ridge was on fire. My housemate and I rushed to the window and stared up at the ridge, where a train of giant yellow flames, licking the sky, raced to the top, consuming the lone house perched there. I had only a few short minutes to decide what to take. I grabbed my laptop, phone, camera, electric razor and toothbrush, hiking boots, a few clothes, a winter hat and gloves, an urn with my Mom’s ashes, a picture of me and my Dad with a baby whale, and a few other personal treasures, tossing some into a small suitcase and stuffing the rest into my daypack. By this point, the wind-driven wildfire had worked its way further down the slope and was creeping closer to the house. Worse yet, the flames had spread to a nearby field and were advancing straight toward our little neighborhood of nine homes.

We scrambled to attach the garden hoses. After soaking the wooden back deck, I had just started spraying down the siding of the house when a police officer suddenly appeared in the yard. She ordered us to leave. I desperately wanted to stay. Having fought fires in the past, I thought I could protect my friend’s house, if only with a garden hose and the force of my will. But calmer heads prevailed, and in the end, flight won out over fight. I wrestled with that one for weeks, until a colleague reminded me that my gut read of the situation was calibrated for fighting forest fires in the 1980s, not in the age of climate breakdown. Later that day, my friend’s house burned to the ground, along with seven others on the street, and part of an eighth. In a matter of minutes, almost all of my worldly possessions had been reduced to ash. In a matter of hours, the suburban firestorm had claimed two human lives, consumed more than 1,000 pets, and incinerated nearly 1,100 homes. The day after the fiery climate conflagration, winter’s snow finally arrived, more than half a foot of it, just one day too late. That one also haunted me for weeks.

It would be natural for me to feel like a victim of this climate disaster. But I don’t actually view the wildfire that upended my life as my nemesis. I view that fire as my teacher. That fire helped me put “things” into perspective. As traumatizing as the whole experience was, for me it was even more transformative. The only thing more overwhelming than the grief of loss was the overwhelming love, compassion, and support that emerged from the ashes. In some ways, this has me feeling more hopeful than ever, despite the climate crisis being worse than ever. Because we have waited so long to act, climate disasters are coming for all of us, in one form or another, and we are going to have to take turns having each other’s backs. This time a lot of people had mine. Next time it may be us having yours. But loving each other–while we do the heavy lifting of mobilizing a climate emergency response–is the only way we will make it through the age of climate consequences intact. For love is a force more powerful than loss. That is what becoming a climate refugee taught me.

I will share more about what I learned from the Marshall Fire in the pages to follow, but the wildfire is but a backdrop to the greater story you are about to read, a true story about an extraordinary journey through the American heartland, a journey blessed by a steady stream of astonishing synchronicities. Mine is a story about persevering in the face of overwhelming odds and finding the trust to leave behind a life I knew to do something I promised myself I would do. This is a saga about going in search of an America I thought I knew and having my faith in humanity rewarded. It is a tale about discovering a shared dream of renewing America with renewable energy. It is a tome about a great climate emergency and a greater climate awakening. It chronicles a personal passage from the depths of despair to a haven of hope. It celebrates the universal power of love. At its heart, my book is ultimately a climate love story, a story about finding our way home to Gaia. This book is my love letter to posterity, to the daring dream of America, and to Gaia.

The word Gaia (pronounced gī-ə) has a storied history. Greek mythology viewed Gaia as a primordial deity personifying the Earth. In the 1970s, scientist James Lovelock developed the Gaia theory, which views the Earth as a self-regulating super-organism. Today, many see Gaia as the spirit of the Earth. I view Gaia as both body and spirit, just as I view us as both body and spirit. I see the Earth as a sentient, living being with her own innate intelligence. My reverence for our Earth mother is not unlike how I have always felt about my own mother, so the names Mother Earth and Mother Nature also resonate deeply with me (you will see me use the terms “Gaia,” “Mother Earth” and “Mother Nature” interchangeably throughout this book). Just as none of us would be alive today without our human mothers, nor would any of us exist without our Earth mother. She generously provides us with everything we need not only to survive, but to thrive. For all that she does for us, it doesn’t seem too much to ask that we love her back in return.

It was my love for Mother Earth, and my fear for the fate of a little boy, that drove me to abandon a comfortable lifestyle to try to shake up the suicidal status quo. Despair is what inspired me to ride thousands of miles across the country championing a green energy moon shot for America–a goal of 100% renewable electricity in ten years. Anguish is what compelled me to leave behind everything I knew to embark upon a quest with no clear sense of what, if anything, it might do. Desperate to try anything, I gave up almost everything–my work, my life savings, my home, and the comforting closeness of loved ones–to pedal my “rocket trike” from Boulder, CO to Washington, DC to share my green dream with the American people. History shows that great and heroic things can happen when we dare to dream big dreams.

The last time the United States was called to do something truly great was in the 1960s, in the heat of the space race with the Soviet Union. I was but an eight-week-old baby in my mother’s arms when President John F. Kennedy delivered his famous challenge to America to land a man on the Moon in less than a decade. At the time, many doubted it could be done, but before the decade was out, astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin stood on the surface of the Moon. Project Apollo was a stunning technological achievement and a towering testament to what we can accomplish when we dedicate ourselves to a bold national mission. Yet almost my entire lifetime has now passed since we have been called to such greatness.

America was last called to do something truly heroic in the 1940s, in response to the existential threat posed by Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan. During the early years of World War II, America slumbered as Hitler’s armies stormed across Europe, murdering millions. It was not until the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor that we finally awoke to the danger at our door. Once stirred, however, nothing would stop us from achieving victory. Together with our allies around the world, it was the Greatest Generation that saved the world from fascism. Today, America again finds herself asleep as the climate beast rampages, with echoes of fascism ringing in the air. Lady Liberty must once again rouse herself awake and heroically rally the world. As a people, we must again stand up and fight for our future.

Underneath all the ugly vitriol, anger, and pettiness plaguing our national discourse, there is something hopeful stirring across the land that the politicians and pundits inside the Beltway do not seem to understand: our nation has gone so long without a generational mission, the American people are starved for one. The political establishment seems incapable of grasping the simple truth that accepting and meeting bold challenges is a trait deeply engrained in our national character. It is a trait I saw yearning for expression in countless people I encountered on my journey through the American heartland. I saw it in the Deputy Sheriff in Indiana who shared his dream of wind turbines replacing oil derricks off our nation’s coasts. I saw it in the Republican legislator in Kansas who said shooting for the moon and getting close is better than setting a lower goal and achieving it. I saw it in the World War II pilot in Missouri who shared his wish for green energy jobs for our veterans returning from tours of duty overseas. I saw it in the mother of a newborn in Illinois who dares to imagine a world without war. On my journey through the heartland, I encountered a deep hunger in our national psyche to once again be part of something greater than ourselves, to be part of a common moral cause.

Does this mean I am optimistic we will mobilize that sense of civic pride, that thirst for higher purpose, that hunger for generational justice in time to turn the tide of the climate crisis we face? I cannot honestly say that I am. Optimism is passive; the belief that things will get better. Hope is active; the belief that things can get better. I wouldn’t have written this book if I didn’t harbor hope, but absent a climate emergency response in the face of a worsening climate emergency, there is no rational cause for optimism. There is no cause for optimism in a nation so bitterly divided, where lies are elevated as truth, with too many blindly buying them. America is not the same nation today as it was in 2010. Nor I am the same person. We have both lost some innocence. We have both lost some faith. There are days when I wake up, look at the world around me, and it all feels futile. Too many Americans have been lulled to sleep by the tranquilizing drug of a corporate media determined to distract and divide, brought to you by the biggest polluters on the planet. Too many are too consumed by consumerism, and mesmerized by materialism, to be able to see that infinite growth is not possible on a finite planet. Too many politicians slavishly serve these same voracious corporations that will not cede power without a fierce fight. Tragically, the odds favor humanity sleepwalking off the edge of the climate cliff as civilization collapses around us, earning us the deserved curses of posterity.

But hope does not need optimism to survive, and my ten-week, 2,500-mile journey through the American heartland filled me with hope. My encounters on America’s Main Streets convinced me that things can get better. My conversations with countless Americans in the intervening years only strengthened that conviction. Here is how Václav Havel, the former dissident and president of Czechoslovakia, once famously described hope: “It transcends the world that is immediately experienced, and is anchored somewhere beyond its horizons… Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is… an ability to work for something because it is good, not just because it stands a chance to succeed... It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.” My spirit is oriented towards hope in the deepest and most powerful sense of the word. For I have witnessed something most Americans never get a chance to see. Something powerful. Something transformative. And because I believe what I saw may hold the key to a climate breakthrough, I feel a duty to share what I experienced with you. What you are about to read in the pages to follow is a great, untold American story. What you are about to read is an American story pregnant with possibilities.

The longing for deep systems change I discovered in the heartland convinced me that, if asked, the American people would do what is necessary, and yes, even sacrifice, to protect their families from the coming climate storms. History has shown that most Americans are willing to curb their consumption as part of a greater common cause. I am hopeful because I know the protective love a mother holds for her child is a power far greater than the destructive forces of greed that would see us fail. I am hopeful because our children are rising up in fierce determination to see that we do not fail. I believe we have it within us as a nation to turn the tide of the climate crisis before the hour grows too late. For I encountered a people eager to enlist in a noble generational mission, one that advances the common good of all. I believe the citizens of this nation can handle the truth and would respond to a clarion call to renew America with renewable energy. I trust in our ability to mobilize at wartime speed to zero emissions and beyond. It has often been said that America can always be counted on to do the right thing–after we have tried everything else.

But averting climate calamity demands that we reunite as a nation. It requires a return to civility and mutual respect. You wouldn’t know it from the rantings of the political class, and a vocal minority, but most Americans know how to disagree without being disagreeable. Most actually prefer civil discourse. By looking for the best in each other, we may just find that our best days are still ahead of us. We may again choose, as we did during World War II, to awaken from our collective slumber and unleash America’s entrepreneurial, can-do spirit in time to save civilization from collapse. Posterity may yet bless us for choosing greatness.

In 2017, more than 15,000 scientists from around the world signed a public declaration warning that “time is running out” to safeguard our imperiled planet. These authorities from 184 countries urged “a groundswell of organized grassroots efforts” to compel political leaders to “take immediate action as a moral imperative to current and future generations of human and other life.” Two years later, 11,000 scientists from around the world declared without question that “Earth is facing a climate emergency.” Addressing this emergency is the cause to which I have dedicated my life. The reason is simple: I feel a moral duty to do everything in my power to pass on a habitable world to posterity. What compels me to do what I do is my love for the innocents, my love for my country, and my love for the Earth.

I wrote this book to sound the alarm on behalf of those too young to understand the pernicious climate perils that lie in wait for them. I wrote it to blow apart the myth of the “red” state, “blue” state climate divide perpetrated by the moneyed elites to keep the American people distracted and divided when it has never been more important for us to be focused and united. I wrote it to honor those who supported my underdog mission and kept the flickering flame of a green dream alive. I wrote it to pay homage to the patriotic spirit of those I met in the heartland who lament the demise of our democracy and ache to see the great American experiment continue. I wrote it to remind us that descending into darkness does not preclude a return to the light. I wrote it to remind myself that even at this late hour, there is still cause for hope.

As someone who spends most of my waking hours thinking about how to make peace with the planet, I have filled the pages of this book with my thoughts on how to do just that. Weaved into the narrative of my pedal-powered journey through the heartland is my vision–drawn from decades of activism in the conservation, political, and business arenas–for how, working together, we can consciously co-create a life-affirming future for all. It all begins with getting to know our home planet better. Life has taught me that we serve best what we love, and we love best what we know.

Life has also taught me the value of humility–acknowledging that there are things we do not know. I do not presume to have all the answers to our climate conundrum and you should question anyone who says that they do. I am not a scientist. I am not an economist. I am not an engineer. I am not a theologian. I am, however, a lifetime student of nature, and human nature, who pays pretty close attention to what experts in these and other fields are doing and saying, so you will also find in these pages profound insights from others on how we might get to extend our stay on planet Earth. There is no shortage of thought leaders out there who have done their own deep thinking on how to reorganize society in the age of climate breakdown. I could have kept updating this book forever with the new things I learn every day, but I had to stop somewhere and declare that this is what I believe to be true today.

Mine is not a work constrained by political practicality. I have spent most of my professional career working in the political arena and I am not interested in what conventional thinkers with limited horizons view to be reasonable or pragmatic. What animates me is the art of the possible. What propels me are the pleas of posterity. What drives me is the need to save civilization from collapse. This begins with sweeping systems change, but it does not end there, for changing leaders and laws will matter little if we do not also change our hearts. If you believe, as I do, that there are forces greater than us at work in this incredible experience called life, then maybe you, too, are feeling the promise of a quantum leap in human consciousness, one that honors our souls, each other, and Mother Earth. Maybe you, too, have broken the spell of the consumer culture and feel drawn into deeper communion with Mother Nature. Maybe you are also trying to find your way home to Gaia.

Nor will I tell you there is an easy path to restoring a safe climate. There isn’t. We cannot just build our way to a safer climate. Unlimited growth is not physically possible on a limited planet. But there is a path, should we choose to take it, one that works with the genius of Mother Nature, not against her. As rocky as the terrain may be, the views from the top are spectacular. In the pages to follow are my ideas, and those of others I respect, on how we might arrive safely at that summit. My hope is that after reading my story you will want to travel this adventurous path together.

Each of us has a part to play in reaching that summit. Every single one of us has demonstrated leadership at one point or another in our lives. As the saying goes, we are the leaders we have been waiting for. Do not expect government officials to willingly rescue you and your family from climate calamity. Do not trust politicians to fearlessly fight for the lives of your children. In the words of the great abolitionist Frederick Douglass: “Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will.” That is how democracy works. You were given a voice for a reason, but it is up to you to choose to use it. If a climate revolution comes, and comes in time, it will only be because you, and I, and millions of other citizens of conscience loudly demanded it.

Despite all the political diversions plaguing our democracy, I retain a deep-seated faith in the goodness, ingenuity, and drive of the American people, each of whom brings their own unique talents to the table. We just have to focus on a common goal and unleash those myriad talents. Once we set our minds on accomplishing a worthy national mission, as we did with the space race, and with World War II, Americans have a knack for making the seemingly impossible possible. Our generation has simply not yet been called.

Ours is the first generation with the awful responsibility of determining the fate of all generations to come. Ours is also the first to be leaving things decidedly worse, not better, for our children. The world is on fire, yet we just keep tossing on more fuel as if we didn’t see the flames. We have to stop. The climate beast is roaring, yet we stand before it frozen as if paralyzed by fear. We have to move.

Each of us are presented with unforgettable moments in life that call on us to stand up for what we believe regardless of the cost. That cold winter night when I heard the call of my conscience and committed to undertaking this journey was just such a moment for me. Managing the anxious span of years it took to write this book–knowing that precious time was slipping away–was a bigger test for me still. In the age of climate consequences, we will all be tested in ways both large and small.

Destiny may have burdened us with being alive at this defining moment in history, but fate has also blessed us with a chance to be part of a heroic generational mission. If ever an age cried out for heroism, that age would be ours. With the lives of our young in mortal danger, uncommon courage is demanded of us all. But the journey about which you are to read was not heroic. It was the desperate act of a sinking man grasping at a life preserver of hope. Heroism is what must come next.

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