Parenting on the Precipice (of Ecological Collapse)

I’m heartbroken, devastated by what is happening around us. 

Every time I open my phone, I see wars in Gaza, wildfires, political revolts, starving children.

I’ve lost trust in our leaders and institutions to guide us.
And I’m not alone.

Culture critics say - we’re in a trust apocalypse. 

Blame it on social media, 

Blame it on the left, the right, 

Blame it on late stage capitalism. 

The only thing I know for certain? 

We can’t keep going the way we’ve gone. 

Millions of acres of trees cut daily. 

Wildfires all over the world. 

Oceans full of plastic, acidify. 

Record-hottest years, year after year. 

Our home is on fire. 

Literally - and socially. 

And yet, 

Through all this, 

I have little babies. 

Two bright-eyed, beautiful souls that look at me, hopeful, full of curiosity about this world they’ve been born into. 

How do I tell them that the world is at the edge of collapse? 

How do I tell them how my generation, their grandparent’s generation, and the ones before have failed them?

That we failed to make a safe, sustainable home for them to thrive in? 

That their world is burning and no one knows what to do about it (or that they’re too lazy to take action). 

And me? 

I alternate between helpless grief, indignant rage, frenzied action, and some kind of spiritually bypassed acceptance of it all. 

When everything is burning, who do you become? 

The firefighter trying to put out the flames? 

The care worker comforting the newly homeless? 

The arsonist burning it down faster? 

The neighbor that turns away and watches TV?

Who do you become here? Who do I become? 

There is so much more I could be doing here. 

I know - I could go meat-less, compost more, travel less, protest more, donate more, move my money… 

There is more I can do. 

More, more, more. 

Change, change. 

But sometimes, I feel frozen. 

Like swimming upstream with no energy. 

Every small thing - like a grocery store trip - feel full of possible eco-activism - or I can check out. 

And I get paralyzed.

Here is what I do know - 

I want to seed what we can become. 

To envision humanity’s greatest potential, 

And to help create it. 

I see a world…

Where my kids grow their own fruits and veggies, 

Where they run in the trees all day, 

Where they listen to the stream, talk to the rocks, 

And know they are woven into a web all around. 

A sanctuary where I know my neighbors, 

And we help each other, in little and small ways. 

Where we’re brave enough to care about each other, 

Even as our world burns around us. 

A vision where we take only what we need, 

And regenerate the soil and clean the rivers, 

Where we protect the vulnerable and tend to the sick, 

Where our love is never too much - it’s just right. 

So I parent on the precipice.

I walk the tightrope line between grief and despair, 

Finding a tender gold thread of hope. 

Because when my heart is tied into the next generation, 

Woven into my kids and my grandkids and so on, 

Despair is not an option, 

And heartbroken hope is my only way forward.