gm-reflection

  Blog 4 of the “Living in the Thoughtsphere” series (This post follows Blog 3: Quietly Showing Up , where I reflected on small gestures and quiet participation in a time of collapse.) There’s a weird kind of dissonance in scrolling through Amazon while thinking about climate collapse. You know too much. You’ve read the reports. You’ve seen the images. And yet, you’re clicking through pages of things you don’t need. A new flashlight. A better phone stand. Some product you never thought about until just now. And then, without thinking much, you buy it. I’ve done this. Not once or twice — enough that I’ve stopped keeping track. It usually happens when I’m tired, or frustrated, or vaguely uncomfortable in some way I can’t name. The purchase is a pressure valve. It doesn’t solve anything. It just gives me something to do with the discomfort. At one point, I convinced myself I was being responsible. I switched to eco-friendly versions of things. I bought reusable bags, compostabl...

(This post follows Blog 2: The Sugar Maple and the Long Now , where I reflected on legacy and planting for futures we might never see.) Let’s be honest. Most of us aren’t Gandhi or MLK. We’re not standing in front of bulldozers or organizing mass movements. We’re not flying across the country to protest. We’re not going to make the news. We’re definitely not going to trend. We’ve got jobs. We’ve got kids. We’ve got a leaking tap and a back that hurts. Some days, we barely have time to care — and yet we do. Quietly. Deeply. Sometimes with a little guilt. I’ve lived in that in-between place. Not passive, not unaware. Just unsure what to do with what I knew. So I started small. I stopped mowing most of our back field. I built a few bluebird houses. I planted a butterfly garden with seeds I found online. Not because I thought it would change the world, but because it felt like movement in the right direction. The neighbors noticed. Around here, the lawn is a badge of honor. I didn’t al...