gm-reflection

Solar Panels Don’t Erase Shopping Carts (This post follows Blog 4: Why We Keep Consuming — Even When the Planet Can’t, where I explored how overconsumption isn’t just systemic — it’s personal. This time, I’m asking: what if the solutions we trust aren’t really solutions at all?) I’ve always wanted to believe in tech as a way out. Electric cars, solar panels, AI-assisted recycling — it all sounds promising. In a world that feels increasingly fragile, these things offer relief. A sense that someone, somewhere, is solving it. But the older I get, the more I feel uneasy. Let’s say we replaced every gas-powered car on the planet with electric ones. That’s 1.45 billion vehicles, overnight. Would we have solved the problem? Or just swapped engines and kept the machine running? In Chile’s Atacama Desert, 65% of available water now goes toward lithium mining. That’s what it takes to power those “clean” cars. One of the driest places on Earth, and we’re draining it to keep driving. That’s ...

  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...