Why it matters

Sometimes, people find me a bit depressing. I spend a lot of time talking about wanting to end capitalism or fight back against ecological destruction. I'm the Debbie Downer at dinner parties, always ready to point out that cage free eggs don't actually mean anything or that our personal choices to buy Priuses are not going to stop global warming.

Because of this, I get friends who call me a pessimist. Sometimes, people I don't know very well tell me that I must hate life or hate the world if I'm so unhappy all the time. And there is nothing that could be further from the truth.

I am completely in love with the world, in so many ways. I love the smell of wet cedar bark and the first day of spring. I've spent hours sitting in forests watching birds and deer and the trickles of sunlight that make their way through the canopy. I've slept outside in the desert and been woken up by a warm breeze and the full moon shining in my face. I've stayed up until 5am having amazing conversations with friends about love and life and cookies.

There are some people who comprehend the magnitude of the problems facing the world and try to rationalize it by bringing up science and evolution. Ninety-nine percent of the species that have ever existed on earth are extinct, they say, and even if we fundamentally alter the world and poison it and warm it up, even if we don't make it through that, something will. Something will evolve to survive, and life will go on.

And I would like to say now, very clearly: Fuck that.

Yes, it's true that almost every species that has ever existed is now extinct. But that's not a reason to let our planet go to hell. I want this world to exist for my proverbial children and grandchildren, and I want it to exist for wild salmon and bears and tigers and polar bears and some really cool non-charismatic megafauna that are having a tough time staying alive.

I'm too in love with this world to give it up. I've been privileged to experience so much of what's good in the world, and so little of the bad. And there is so much good: stinging nettle tea, hugs, knitting, music, campfires, sitting on porches in the sun, clean water, love, heartbreak, friendship and laughter. I want everyone to experience the joy that I have. I want people to be free from jobs they hate and war and disease and starvation. I want us all to be able to see those good things and fight to keep them there.

This is what calls me. This is why I'm so damn stubborn and so upset sometimes. I see what's at stake. And I'm not giving up.

Sometimes, I imagine that we don't stop polluting our planet. I imagine that we trash it, and populations start collapsing, and someone figures out how to terraform Mars. I imagine that much of the world (those who could afford it, anyway) would get on the ships and head off to a bright new future on a red planet. I wouldn't. I would stay behind, because this beautiful blue ball spinning through space at incomprehensible velocity is the only home I've ever known. I would stay, because expecting me to live without the Earth would be like expecting me to live with a hole in my heart. I would stay to be with all the non-humans who wouldn't have the choice to move on. I would stay, because that's what you do with your home. You don't give it up easily. You don't give it up without a fight.