Tomorrow evening I’m attending a small gathering of local environmental advocates and activists to watch a documentary and just mingle with other eco-nerds. I’m looking forward to watching the film,
Dam Nation, and learning about the badass activists who have worked successfully to free dammed rivers so they could flow naturally once again. I'm also interested to hear what the local folks in my own community have been up to lately. Frankly, I am certain they have been doing much more than I have, and I feel slightly apprehensive about going as a result. I’m at a place of mild disillusionment with respect to my personal eco-advocacy, and my hope is that the tension I feel is the result of a transition rather than a retreat. It is not that I don’t believe in the mission of advocacy and activism; of course I do. I would be outright lying, however, if I didn’t admit that the magnitude of our current environmental problems doesn’t grotesquely and dramatically dwarf the probability of even marginally meaningful political solutions. Yes, “hope” is important even in the face of grave situations, but hoping for miracles seems a bit childish. I genuinely admire those with the energy, stamina, and perseverance to slog it out every day, fighting the behemoth obstructions of fossil fuel interests and our almost impossibly intractable human addiction to convenience. That said, the glacial pace with which modest changes are made despite these truly heroic organizing efforts leaves me exhausted as I hit middle age (or perhaps I’m using age as an excuse; that is one of its few luxuries in a youth-obsessed culture.) Because I’m finding myself less motivated for political struggles, I am searching for both the means and the motivation to pragmatically prepare for the potential results of our eco-crisis, or at least the motivation to help model systems that make such crises less likely. This is the transition I am hoping to make, anyhow, and perhaps this post is an effort to reinforce this dedication.
