Complementing my sporadic fears that our project may be derailed by any number of manifested risks, I’ve been nursing a nagging feeling that I need to do more to stop our climate crisis. Sure, I do what I can to make conscious choices each day about what I eat, what I buy, how I get around, and how I spend my time. It’s not enough.
The other week, I read about our federal government’s decision to approve (again) the Trans Mountain pipeline, still without the consent of First Nations along the route and (I would argue) the majority of Canadians. The next day I learned about the mass die-off of the grey whales as they migrate north along the Pacific coast.
At the end of that week, I took an advanced Passive House course with RDH’s own Monte Paulsen, during which he reminded us what happens to our brains when the carbon dioxide level in our environment increases in the ‘do nothing’ future climate scenario. Simply put, background atmospheric CO2 levels will hit the range that has been demonstrated to compromise brain function. This is the air we breathe! Contemplating this potential future, my course-mate and fellow parent Matt turned to me and said, “The stuff makes me want to cry.”
I knew exactly how he felt. I’ve lately been brought to tears by what I see happening around me. I don’t even read the news most days and when I do, it invariably triggers a state of mourning and despair that seems to be simmering just below the surface. I’m mourning the state of our planet and the sorry state of our politics that continues to either do nothing or not do enough.
When I’m done crying, I find things I can do to stave off the despair.
I attended the No Consent march to protest Trudeau’s decision and show support for the Tiny House Warriors, an indigenous women led group that is building and setting tiny houses in the path of the planned pipeline. The group is also resisting a 1000-man “man camp” that will be constructed in their territory; an oil and gas industry practice that has been linked to an increase in violence against aboriginal women. Lose lose as far as I can tell.
I spoke at Victoria City Hall to offer solutions to dramatically improve the performance and resiliency of our existing buildings and to support the City’s work following their declaration of a Climate Emergency.
Before that, Matt, Mila-Kate and I joined the student strike for climate justice. I donated to the Dogwood Society and the Ancient Forest Alliance. I wrote letters to our provincial and federal representatives to tell them that I won’t vote for anyone who supports continued oil and gas expansion. I wrote to the BC government to ask them to stop logging the old growth forests.
I know there’s more I can do. I see signs of hope in the growing voices for change, but I’m angry that those who have held power for so long have used it to destroy our planet for their own short term gain. I fear for our children’s future. I grieve for the threatened forests and oceans and all the creatures (including us humans) that depend on them.
How can this possibly be an acceptable future?
It is not acceptable. So even though I mourn, I will continue to do as much as I can to create an acceptable future. Because what else is there to do?
Thank you for your family’s many meaningful actions. Prompted by your post, I borrowed a book from the library that speaks to the despair and fear that so many of us feel, and do recommend it: Hope Beneath Our Feet.
I admire the leadership that you are accepting in speaking to City Hall, and suspect there will be more of that in your future!
Thank you for the suggestion, Kate – I will seek this one out!