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@discoveringidentityandhope
Please make a post about the story of the RMS Carpathia, because it's something that's almost beyond belief and more people should know about it.
Carpathia received Titanicās distress signal at 12:20am, April 15th, 1912. She was 58 miles away, a distance that absolutely could not be covered in less than four hours.
(Californianās exact position at the time isā¦controversial. She was close enough to have helped. By all accounts she was close enough to see Titanicās distress rockets. Itās uncertain to this day why her crew did not respond, or how many might not have been lost if she had been there. This is not the place for what-ifs. This is about what was done.)
Carpathiaās Captain Rostron had, yes, rolled out of bed instantly when woken by his radio operator, ordered his ship to Titanicās aid and confirmed the signal before he was fully dressed. The man had never in his life responded to an emergency call. His goal tonight was to make sure nobody who heard that fact would ever believe it.
All of Carpathiaās lifeboats were swung out ready for deployment. Oil was set up to be poured off the side of the ship in case the sea turned choppy; oil would coat and calm the water near Carpathia if that happened, making it safer for lifeboats to draw up alongside her. He ordered lights to be rigged along the side of the ship so survivors could see it better, and had nets and ladders rigged along her sides ready to be dropped when they arrived, in order to let as many survivors as possible climb aboard at once.
I donāt know if his making provisions for there still being survivors in the water was optimism or not. I think he knew they were never going to get there in time for that. I think he did it anyway because, god, you have to hope.
Carpathia had threeĀ dining rooms, which were immediately converted into triage and first aid stations. Each had a doctor assigned to it. Hot soup, coffee, and tea were prepared in bulk in each dining room, and blankets and warm clothes were collected to be ready to hand out. By this time, many of the passengers were awakeāprepping a ship for disaster relief isnāt quietāand all of them stepped up to help, many donating their own clothes and blankets.
And then he did something I tend to refer to as diverting all power from life support.
Hereās the thing about steamships: They run on steam. Shocking, I know; but that steam powers everything on the ship, and right now, Carpathia needed power. So Rostron turned off hot water and central heating, which bled valuable steam power, to everywhere but the dining roomsāwhich, of course, were being used to make hot drinks and receive survivors. He woke up all the engineers, all the stokers and firemen, diverted all that steam back into the engines, and asked his ship to go as fast as she possibly could. And when sheād done that, he asked her to go faster.
I need you to understand that you simply canāt push a ship very far past its top speed. Pushing that much sheer tonnage through the water becomes harder with each extra knot past the speed it was designed for. Pushing a ship past its rated speed is not only recklessāitās difficult to maneuverābut it puts an incredible amount of strain on the engines. Ships are not designed to exceed their top speed by even one knot. They canāt do it. It canāt be done.
Carpathiaās absolute do-or-die, the-engines-canāt-take-this-forever top speed was fourteen knots. Dodging icebergs, in the dark and the cold, surrounded by mist, she sustained a speed of almost seventeen and a half.
No one would have asked this of them. It wasnāt expected. They were almost sixty miles away, with icebergs in their path. They had a respondibility to respond; they did not have a responsibility to do the impossible and do it well. No one would have faulted them for taking more time to confirm the severity of the issue. No one would have blamed them for a slow and cautious approach. No one but themselves.
They damn near broke the laws of physics, galloping north headlong into the dark in the desperate hope that if they could shave an hour, half an hour, five minutes off their arrival time, maybe for one more person those five minutes would make the difference. I say: three people had died by the time they were lifted from the lifeboats. For all we know, in another hour it might have been more. I say they made all the difference in the world.
This ship and her crew received a message from a location they could not hope to reach in under four hours. Just barely over three hours later, they arrived at Titanicās last known coordinates. Half an hour after that, at 4am, they would finally find the first of the lifeboats. it would take until 8:30 in the morning for the last survivor to be brought onboard. Passengers from Carpathia universally gave up their berths, staterooms, and clothing to the survivors, assisting the crew at every turn and sitting with the sobbing rescuees to offer whatever comfort they could.
In total, 705 people of Titanicās original 2208 were brought onto Carpathia alive. No other ship would find survivors.
At 12:20am April 15th, 1912, there was a miracle on the North Atlantic. And it happened because a group of humans, some of them strangers, many of them only passengers on a small and unimpressive steam liner, looked at each other and decided: I cannot live with myself if I do anything less.
I think the least we can do is remember them for it.
wow okay iām crying now
āAnd even as he watched the rescue unfolding that morning, he would have understood that for the living, everything which could have been done had been done: not a single survivor was lost or injured being brought aboard the Carpathia. For those who had gone down with the Titanic, save for reverencing their memory at the service later that day, there was nothing more that he or anyone could do. Rostronās duty now was as he always saw it: to the living.ā
I looked up a bit about this because the post is so movingly written that when I read it aloud to my husband and mother they both wept like babies, and something else really struck me about this story.
So Carpathia was not a top-end luxury liner. Her reputation was for being Jolly Comfortable - she was very broad in her proportions, and not super-duper fast, and the result was that she didnāt rock so much on the waves and you couldnāt particularly hear/feel the engines. She was solid and dependable, and lots of people liked using her, but she therefore occupied a lesser niche than Titanic or Olympian or whatever - and crucially, as a result of that, she only had one radio operator on board. This means she only had radio ops for a certain window in the day, unlike Titanic, which had 24 hour radio ops.
So on that night, when Titanic went down, Carpathiaās wireless operator - one Harold Cottam - clocked off his shift at midnight, and went to bed. While he was getting ready for bed, though, he left the transmitter on for the hell of it, and therefore picked up a transmission from Cape Race in Newfoundland, the closest transmitting tower sending messages to the ships. They told him that they had a backlog of private traffic for Titanic that wasnāt getting through. So, even though his shift was over, and it was now 11 minutes past bloody midnight, and he just wanted to go to bed, Harold Cottam decided that nonetheless, heād be helpful, and let the Titanic know they had messages waiting.
And thatās how he received the Titanicās distress signal. In spite of no longer being on shift to receive it, and therefore in order to send Carpathia galloping to Titanicās rescue, and thus saving 705 people.
All because Harold Cottam decided one night to be kind.Ā
I dunno. Thatās just really stuck with me.
Cottam also ended up staying awake for something like 48 hours straight trying to send survivors messages and a list of survivors home, but due to Carpathiaās limited radio frequency range and with no other ships to act as a relay, this was rather patchy. However, he tried his damn best to make sure the survivorās messages got home, and was also bombarded with incoming messages of bribes to spill the details of the disaster to the press.
Rostrum had ordered that no messages to the press be sent out of respect to the survivors, for they would have their privacy destroyed as soon as they reached New York. Cottam respected this order, even under extreme duress of fatigue, stress, and the knowledge that in some cases the bribes were almost three times his annual salary.
He eventually went to bed but not before working with one of the rescued Titanicās radio operators, Harold Bride, to transmit as many messages as possible. Bride was injured (his feet had been crushed in a lifeboat) and had just passed the body of the second of Titanicās radio operators aboard (Jack Phillips), so neither of them were really in the best shape to keep working, but they did.
In the face of extreme adversity, both men refused to do anything but their duty (and exceeding their duty) not just because Rostrum had ordered it, but because it was the right thing to do. They could have profited considerably from the disaster and they refused for the dignity of the survivors.
This is hopepunk. This is what we can be, what we are, when instinct takes over. This is what we are when we choose to care about each other. Weāre not profit machines or units of production or lone fierce wolves in a bitter wilderness. We are people, and we care about people.
This is human nature. Donāt give up on it.
Hopepunk is best punk.
this always leaves me sobbing. fuck.
I wrote a post a couple of years ago, wondering why there hadnāt been a documentary or docu-drama about the āCarpathiaā rescue run.
There are probably sound reasons why not, one of which is probably that getting yet anotherĀ āTitanicā project greenlit is far easier - name recognition, pre-sold property, multiple conspiracy theories to play with (all discredited, but when did that stop theĀ āHistoryā Channel?)
Here are a couple of stories about āCarpathiaā:
As @mylordshesacactus has already said, her boilers and engines were rated for no more than 14 knots and, when she managed 17.5 for the only time in her life itās said (I hate the phrase but I have to use it) that the Chief Engineer hung his hat over the main pressure gauge so no-one - including himself - could see how far its needle was into the red.
Captain Rostron, a religious man, was seen on several occasions standing privately on the exposed bridge wing with his own hat raised and his mouth moving in silent prayer, and when daylight revealed the extent of the ice-field his ship had passed without harm, he only said āThere must have been another Hand on the wheel than mineā¦ā
Thereās another problem-of-sorts about a screenplay set aboard āCarpathiaā - an astonishing lack of that easy dramatic tool, conflict. Captain Rostron decided he was going to the āTitanicās assistance, and that was that. AFAIK not a single passenger or crewman - not one - questioned the wisdom of his decision either then or afterwards, even whenā¦
ā¦āCarpathiaā headed at more than full speed, in the dark, through dangerous waters where an iceberg had apparently just sunk an āunsinkableā ship.
Itās easier to write - and sell - a story about pride, arrogance, stupidity, rich against poor and lives lost through hubris, than it is to write one about people who rallied round and did the right thing at the right time, not for reward but because it was the right thing to do.
Hereās Rostron and his officersā¦
ā¦the āCarpathiaā stewards and cabin crewā¦.
ā¦some of her passengersā¦
ā¦and some of the people they helped.
I will always reblog one of the few posts to GUARANTEE leaving me in an ugly sobbing heartfelt mess.
Godspeed Carpathia and your crew, your memories live on.
https://archive.org/details/DontBeaS1947
Hereās the whole video. Itās calledĀ āDonāt Be A Suckerā and itās 17 minutes long.
donāt just scroll past this actually watch it, itās only 2 minutes long. If you re-recorded this today word for word with modern actors and places, it wouldnāt even look out of place as a PSA
300,000 notes and i canāt find a transcript
Transcript: (sorry for the language!)
Speaker: āI see negroes holding jobs that belong to me! And you! Iāll ask you, if we allow this thing to go on, whatās gonna become of us real Americans!ā
Hungarian man with clear foreign accent: āIāve heard this kind of talk before, but I never expected to hear it in America.ā
Young man: āThis man seems to know what heās talking about.ā
Speaker: āWhat are us real Americans gonna do about it? Youāll find it right here in this little pamphletāthe truth about negroes and foreigners! The truth about the Catholic Church! Youāll findā¦ā [audio grows quieter as camera shifts to the onlookers]
Hungarian man: āYou believe in that kind of talk?ā
Young man: āI dunno, it makes pretty good sense to me.ā
Speaker: āAnd I tell you, friends, weāll never be able to call this country our own until itās a country without⦠without what?ā
Other man: āYeah? Without what?ā
Speaker: āWithout negroes, without alien foreigners,āāthe young man is nodding, following alongāāwithout Catholics, without Freemasons! You know theseā¦ā
Young man: āWhatās wrong with the Masons, Iām a Mason.ā Looks to European man worriedly, āhey, that fellowās talking about me!ā
Huungarian man: āAnd that makes a difference, doesnāt it.ā
Speaker: āThese are your enemies! These are the people who are trying to take over our country! Now you know them, you know what they stand for. And itās up to you and me to fight them!ā A bunch of the onlookers in the vicinity wave him off like heās crazy and turn away, āfight them and destroy them before they destroy us!ā
Speaker: āThank you.ā
One man in the now somewhat awkward crowd: āclapsā
Young man: *is visibly uncomfortable*
Hungarian man: āBefore he said Mason, you were ready to agree with him.ā
Young man: āWell yes but, he was talking about⦠what about those other people?ā *the pair sit down on a park bench*
Hungarian man: āIn this country, we have no āother people.ā We are American people, of course.ā
Young man: āWhat about you? You arenāt American, are you?ā
Hungarian man: āI was born in Hungary. But now, I am an American citizen. And I have seen what this kind of talk can do. I saw it in Berlin.ā
Young man: āWhat were you doing there?ā
Hungarian man: āI was a professor at the university. I heard the same words we have heard today. But I was a fool, then. I thought Nazis were crazy people, stupid fanatics. But unfortunately it was not so. You see, they knew that they were not strong enough to conquer a unified country, so they split Germany into small groups. They used prejudice as a practical weapon to cripple the nation.ā
A film created for folks in case Martin Niemƶller was too subtle.
āThey used prejudice as a practical weapon to split the people.ā
In this country, we have no āother peopleā.
90% of Denmarkās Jews survived the Holocaust, because starting at the top, Denmarkās government and prominent citizens and all the way down emphasized this.
And all this was openly supported by King Christian. He did not, contrary to popular myth, ride his horse through Copenhagen wearing the Star of David, but he did make it clear, as he wrote in his diary, that he considered āour own Jews to be Danish citizens, and the Germans could not touch themā.
Denmark had, in essence, inoculated itself against Nazi propaganda because its citizens believed that Jews were not āother people.ā As Bo Lidegard writes in Countrymen:
The Danish exception shows that the mobilisation of civil societyās humanism and protective engagement is not only a theoretical possibility: It can be done. We know because it happened.
Being a Jewish Dane or a Danish Jew might have made you a little different, but it didnāt make you other people.
Unlike Niemoller, they didnāt have to see atrocities visited on a series of Other People and only start caring when it happened to themselves. They understood it as happening to themselves from the start. Because their Jewish neighbors werenāt Other People.
As Denmarkās Jewish population sprang into panicked action, so did its Gentiles. Hundreds of people spontaneously began to tell Jews about the upcoming action and help them go into hiding. ItĀ was, in the words of historian Leni Yahil, āa living wall raised by the Danish people in the course of one night.ā
Many of them didnāt even see it as āresistance workā on behalf of the Jews because it was simply fighting back against an attack on their own community.
Though there was anti-Semitism in Denmark before and after the Holocaust, the Nazisā war on Jews was largely viewed as a war against Denmark itself. After the war, most Danes refused to take credit for their resistance work, which many had conducted under false names.Ā Ordinary people who never considered themselves part of the Danish Resistance passed along messages, gathered food, gave hiding places or guarded the possessions of those who left until they returned home from the war.
Communities in which there are no Other People save lives.
During the most poor and homeless period of my life, I had a lot of people get angry with me because I spent $25 on Bath and Body Works candles during a sale. They couldnāt comprehend why the hell I would do that when I had been fighting for months to try and get us on our feet, afford food, and have an apartment to live in.
Those candles were placed beside wherever I slept that night. In the morning, I would move them and set them wherever Iād have to hang out. At one point I carried one around in my purse - one of those big honking 3-wick candles. I never lit them, but Iād open them and smell them a lot.
I credit that purchase with a lot of my drive that got me to where I am today. I had been working tirelessly, 15+ hour days with barely any reward, constantly on the phone or trying to deal with organizations and associations toĀ āget help atā. Itād gone on for almost a year by the end of it, and I was so burnt out, to the point that I would shake 24/7. But I could get a bit of relief from my 3-wickĀ āupper middle class lifestyleā candles. They represented my future goals, my home I wanted to decorate, and how I would one day not be in this mess anymore.
When we moved into the apartment, and our financial status improved, I burned those candles every single day. When they were empty, I cleaned them out, stuck labels on them, and they became the starting point of my really cute organization system I had ALWAYS planned to have.
So whenever I hear about someone very poor getting themselves a treat - maybe itās Starbucks, maybe itās a home deco item, maybe itās a video game⦠I donāt judge them. I get it. I get that you canāt go without anything for that long without it making you go crazy. You need to pull some joy, inspiration, and motivation from somewhere.
poor people deserve things they want, too. it is unfair to expect poor people to only buy things they āneedā.
My grandfather used to tell me: if you only have 20 kr left, you buy grocery for 10 kr and flowers for the other 10 kr because you need a reason to live as well.
While the giant bill was fake, it represented a very real accomplishment. The group raised more than $17,000, which purchased more than $1.6 million in medical debt owed by Philadelphians, according to their nonprofit partner RIP Medical Debt.
keep reading
This is a great way to undermine the system that we are trapped in
The fact that this can be done at all shows how utterly bullshit the entire system is. There was literally no reason for that medical debt to exist in the first place.
Let's say you owe a private hospital ten thousand dollars, but you have very few assets, so they're pretty sure they're never getting any of that back. There's ninety nine other people who also each owe the hospital ten thousand dollars. (It doesn't have to be a hospital; any debt can be sold this way.) The hospital has shit to do and the low chances of you paying them mean it's an unnecessary drain on their time and resources to hound you all for it. But they can get *some* money, by selling your debt to a third party.
Let's say the sell each ten thousand dollar debt for ten dollars (I'm making all these numbers up for simplicity). So a third party gives the hospital one thousand dollars, and now all hundred of you owe that third party ten thousand instead! You're in the clear with the hospital, you owe it to these guys now! And their job is to hound and harrass you for the money you owe. If one of you pays up more than a thousand dollars, you've covered their initial investment. These guys are gambling on the likelihood that enough of you can pay your debts that you make it worth the time they spend tracking you and harrassing you.
Or, instead of trying to get the money out of you, they can just... decide you don't owe them. Why not? They own the debt. They can fork out a thousand bucks, buy a million in debt, and forgive it. That's what these guys did. (This is also a favourite move of John Oliver; if you ever see headlines about John Oliver forgiving debt, this is what he's doing). A small payment can take a massive weight off the shoulders of a lot of struggling people.
Again, I made up the numbers to simplify the math. But this is how the process works.
seventeen thousand dollars to buy SIXTEEN MILLION DOLLARS OF DEBT. Absolutely FUCKED at how cheap our misery and servitude is.
thing is, the debt companies *hate* this, because it means that it gives hope to people saddled with unimaginable debt that someone will come along and buy that debt and cancel it. So more people don't pay their debts, and they lose money. Debt buying companies do their *damnedest* to keep people like these philadelphhians and john oliver from doing exactly this.
you can do this too! Follow OP's link to https://ripmedicaldebt.org/ and donate whatever you can. For every $1 you donate, they buy $100 of debt and cancel it. I donate $10 each month just to get that amazing email that says I've been personally responsible for cancelling $1000 of medical debt - it's genuinely the best $10 I spend each month š
Schittās Creek 2.01 | Finding David
I was meeting a client at a famous museumās lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx āback when that was nothing to brag aboutā and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.
What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.
What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girlās wedding day.
What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her fatherās lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her motherās deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailorās shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.
The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her motherās lap: her mother doesnāt had a pattern, but she doesnāt need one to make her daughterās dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughterās majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.
And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we donāt just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.
But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmotherās quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Goghās works hung in his poor friendsā hallways. That your fatherās hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parentsā livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sisterās engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinciās scribbles of flying machines.
I donāt think thereās any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - theyāve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that thereās an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something thatās beautiful to you.
Platypeace was never an option
Problems like climate change, where solving them requires millions of people to collectively work at hundreds of different solutions at once, are black holes for internal peacefulness because they give you a type of frustration where you alternately become bitter towards yourself or everyone around you. "If only I could work harder to fix the problem!" makes you exhausted, so you must become angry at others: "If only they cared about the problem!"
People who are already working on fixing climate change need to convince more people to work on it. And a popular thing is to share writings that describe how doomed we all are if climate change is not fixed, how terrible everything will be because of climate change, and how quickly all the treasures of our world are being lost.
There is a particular understanding of human behavior that is being accepted here without thinking about it hard enough. Popular news media shows headlines with terrible prophecies, written that way in hopes of getting the attention of otherwise disinterested people, who will then be "motivated" to fix climate change.
The trouble is that fear is no good for motivating thoughtful, patient, steady commitment to solving a problem. Fear is made to cause an organism to avoid things that might harm it. It creates a brief and explosive pulse of action where the organism's energy pours out as it instinctively, thoughtlessly reacts to escape the danger as fast as possible.
It's silly to blame people for avoiding thinking about climate change. The point of an organism responding to stressors is to avoid them. Oftentimes, the only tool people are presented with is personal choices about what products to buy, which inevitably is horribly frustrating and stressful, since a person will frequently be coerced by their situation into buying a certain product, and even if they don't they see others doing it all the time.
Relentless exposure to imminent threats that cannot be escaped causes Trauma, which severely impacts a person's ability to be resilient to stressors.
ļæ¼I think there is definitely a type of trauma associated with being constantly aware of the destruction of the environment and feeling helpless to do anything about it, especially since we as humans have a deep need for contact with other living things and aspects of the natural world, such as trees, water, flowers, and animalsāa need that is often totally denied and treated as merely a Want or a hobby meant only for certain people who enjoy particular activities, like Hiking or Gardening.
We need to expand our minds on how this disconnection can hurt a human being. Imagine if a child's need to be loved by their caregivers, a person's need to be loved by their friends and family, was treated as a desire for indulgence or luxury, or a certain use of free time!
Yes, yes, one person has a condition that makes it hard to walk up hills, another doesn't like the bright sunshine, another is allergic to the grass or fungal components of the outdoor world, but WE ARE PART OF THE FAMILY OF ALL LIFE ON EARTH and WE EXIST IN SYMBIOSIS WITH THE ENVIRONMENT WHICH TAKES CARE OF US. Who showed you what beauty was, who taught you to feel peace and relief inside you in the form of a caressing breeze and rustle of leaves, who gave you awe and wonder at seeing the stars or the mountains? Where does every delicious food come from but the soil teeming with creatures? Isn't the most perfectly sweet berry grown from a plant, nurtured by the soil and pollinated by the bugs? Don't you feel delight at seeing a springy carpet of moss, a little mushroom, or a tiny bird? Think of all that the trees give us. Whose breath do you breathe? Whose body frames your home?
The writings of Indigenous writers such as the book by Mary Siisip Genuisz I am reading right now show me that the other life forms are our family. They take care of us and provide for us, and they would miss us if our species disappeared. Isn't that a powerful, healing fact? I think everybody is so enthusiastic about the book Braiding Sweetgrass because it is a worldview that those of us coming from the dominant colonizer culture are straight up ravenous, starving to death for.
Maybe, I think to myself, humans can experience a kind of trauma from being deprived a relationship with their Earth, just as they would experience trauma from being deprived relationships with other humans.
I really believe that it hurts us to be surrounded by concrete instead of soil, to see a majestic tree cut down on a whim without any justice possible, to see wild animals mostly in the form of mangled corpses on the roadside, to have poison sprayed everywhere to kill the insects that life depends on, to hear traffic and lawn mowers and weed whackers instead of birds and flowing water.
We KNOW that this is physically bad for our health, the stifling, polluted, and stressful environments of a civilization that doesn't know the ways of the plants, but I think it's a kind of moral injury too, right? To see a beautiful field turned into a housing development of ugly, big, expensive housesāno thought given to the butterflies and sparrows and quail of the field? To see a big old tree cut down, a pond full of frogs obliterated and turned into a drainage ditch beside a gas station? They aren't just things, they are lives, and while expansion and profit and progress are "necessary," a nice old field of wildflowers or a pond full of frogs are a different kind of necessary. I remember feeling this as a child without words for itāthe sheer cruelty of a world that is totally without reverence for the other creatures.
"They own the property, they can cut down the tree" "They bought the land, they can do what they want with it" <but it can also be wrong, and many people know this on some level, even though our culture doesn't provide us with the framework.
Fear could never give people the motivation to fix climate change. Constant fear of what will happen in the future forces a person to protect themselves from the relentless stress by shutting it out entirely or developing apathy.
A fear based argument for fixing climate change either causes a worldview of nature with no bond of kinship at all, based on the physical and practical dependence on Nature as a "resource," or forces people to experience their kinship with Nature only through grief.
Fear tells us that we want to liveāit does not tell us WHY to live. If a person tries to live on fear alone, they will eventually find the desire to live burdensome and painful in itself. I see this emerging on a society wide scale in the USA, feeding on influences from the Christian evangelicalism that sees the Earth as something already sullied and worthless, to be thrown away like a dirty tissue, and on the looming monolith of nuclear winter that gave our parents recurring nightmares as children.
If you go to r/collapse on Reddit (don't do that) you will see a whole community of people who cope with the threat of climate change by fantasizing about it, imagining it as a collective punishment for all humanity and a cathartic release from the present painful situation.
We cannot learn to live without seeing the reason for living. We cannot save the Earth without loving it. We cannot heal nature without caring for it. In order to collectively take action against climate change, we must be moved by something other than fearāand that something is love. Not just love of the outdoors as an activity, but love of the Earth as something that loves us.
The dominant Western culture cannot borrow Indigenous land stewardship techniques as though they are just one climate resilience strategy, without being also willing to change its dreadfully impoverished way of viewing human relationships with Nature.
What right have we to think, "Huh, maybe those guys were on to something with the multi-level polyculture systems and controlled burns" while still thinking humans are nothing but a disease on the Earth, and that Earth would be happy to be rid of us? The sustainable ways of using the land practiced traditionally by cultures who have lived in relationship with their ecosystems for many generations work because humans can exist in mutualistic symbiosis with the life forms around them. We care for them. They care for us.
I know for a fact that plants seek relationships with us, and I was taught by them to see how interconnected everything really is, and how I was made to be a caretaker of my ecosystem. I was, a few years ago, just as I describe above. Too scared and pessimistic about the future of nature to bother loving it, and because of this, I could not realize my niche in the ecosystem. It felt for many years like I could do nothingāi believed in climate change, but I felt hopeless, so I put it out of my mind. But when I began to cultivate a love and reverence for the sad, scraggly, beaten-down fragments of Nature around me, everything changed. So much became possible.
I am still learning and exploring, trying to open my mind to ideas totally different than the ones I knew growing up, paying close attention to every plant and learning its ways. And it stuns me to thinkāsome people write about climate change without this process.
The author of the book "The Uninhabitable Earth" (a scary book about how doomed the Earth is because of climate change) says in the beginning of the book that he is not very much of a nature lover. You fool, love is our most powerful evolutionary adaptation!
Undulatus AsperitasĀ clouds seen over New Hampshire, (2023).
Source
Tracy Chapman and Luke Combs performing Fast Car at the Grammys
From the notes:
"so Luke Combs (the dude, country singer) released a cover of it this past year, and it became a hit. He didn't change the pronouns either. So a white guy covering a black woman's song, it becoming a hit and actually giving her the credit is nice. B/c of the song's popularity it won Song of the Year at the Country Music Awards. That award goes to the songwriter, Tracy, the first Black queer woman to win."
He didn't change the pronouns or the gendered words which refer to the singer. He sings, "I work at the market as a checkout girl," which gives the entire thing a deep "closeted transmasc" vibe that I love so much.
There was a lot of fuss when the song first came out and then Chapman spoke up and said, essentially, "I really like this version, actually, and it's making me an awful lot of money, which is nice, so please leave him alone."
I think it's also important to note that at one point, the camera cuts to Brandi Carlisle, a lesbian folk singer, who is holding on to her wife. I'm quite sure that was intentional.
(Speaking of watching people who are so happy to be where they are, the way that Brandi can't stop staring at Joni Mitchell and smiling when they performed together later that night... you can basically see that her entire train of thought is I AM ON STAGE AT THE GRAMMYS WITH JONI MITCHELL!! MY LIFE IS SO COOL!! and that's pretty fucking great.)
: I need a hug...... : Everything will be okay .......
[Video Descript: Excited bunnies running around to Don't Stop Me Now by Queen]