My Descent to Awareness Part 1

It was only April of 2006 that I became aware of my footprint on this Earth.

I mean, really aware. There I was, thirty-four years-old, just beginning to understand. Ever have a moment when you realize exactly what you’re doing here? Even if you don’t believe in God or follow a religion, don’t you ever wonder what your small, insignificant life here on Earth means, why were you born, why did you study this or that and pick the career you chose, marry your spouse, have kids, battle illness, watch loved ones die, witness disaster? These are some fairly large questions in life. For a fleeting moment that day last spring, the wormhole of life un-kinked just enough for me to see that my actions on this Earth do have a consequence and that if anything, my presence here is a fragile gift that I should cherish and protect.

You’re probably wondering what spawned my “ah-ha” moment.

It all started when I sat down one spring afternoon to breastfeed my second child. I wanted to relax a little and watch some television. There was nothing on. HBO was airing something called Too Hot Not to Handle (hereby referred to as THNtH). I had no idea what it was about, I hoped it was a light-hearted movie, and according to the guide, I had only missed about 15 minutes. Click. The program was showing pictures of glaciers and comparing them to pictures from the past. I had no idea what they were talking about, but when a picture of a glacier from 1942 was shown and then a second picture of the same landscape, less glacier, was shown from 2003, I was upright in my seat, no longer interested in a vegetative, half-asleep state as my infant nursed. The pictures were telling me that the earth was changing, and the narrator was telling me what Global Warming was and how it happened. I didn’t think glaciers could melt.

I honestly had NO idea.

For thirty-four years, I have led my life thinking that I had goals to attain. My small life in a small community had tied itself up into such a knot that I had been seduced into believing my self-important goals were honorable pursuits. I had spent much of my waking hours concentrating on being thin, beautiful – perfect. I had dreams of zipping around town in a popular SUV on my way to various mommy gatherings while wearing unique designer clothing from a high-end boutique, high-heeled sandals and then returning to my model-perfect home. Of course, I also wanted other things: college educations for my children, a wedding for my daughter, maybe extra money to vacation abroad someday. In a dream world, where the unattainable is reality, maybe a beach house to spend lazy summer days or a cabin for skiing holidays. These were my little goals. Selfish goals.

I realized sadly that these dreams are worth nothing if myself or my children didn’t have a home in which to have them, and by home, I mean, Earth.

For the rest of that day and every day since then, the implications of Global Warming have swarmed in my head and the final blow of its consequence has hit with enough force to knock my old lifestyle straight to the recycle bin. My previous life of blissful ignorance was a thing of the past. That night, my husband came home from work and I bombarded him with information about the documentary and put it on for him to watch. He was skeptical and laughed his way through it, but I was on fire. I washed the dishes differently that night – trying to waste less water, I thought about what I was putting into the trash versus the recycling, turned of every un-necessary light. I didn’t sleep that night or the next few nights. My head swarmed with questions, my devilish sleep-deprived mind displaying sickening scenes of beachfront under water, once-green suburban cities turned to desert, mountains without snow, vegetable and fruit crops dying from lack of irrigation. My God, I thought, who cares about college and a wedding, will my kids know what a California beach looks like? Mentally, I sunk our beautiful coastline by 20 feet (a melted Alaska according to THNtH), then 100 feet (a melted Greenland) and finally 250 feet (a melted Arctic). It was all just too devastatingly overwhelming. The idea of an Earth strangely different and inhospitable seemed so foreign, so far away.

Could it really happen?

I couldn’t bear the thought of my children and grandchildren suffering because of actions I took in my lifetime.

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