Dancing in the Shadow of a Burning World

New Year’s Eve. We gatecrashed a party (!). It was wonderful, and I was having the kind of fun I’ve been craving for a while—letting my wild side out, the part of me I mostly left behind in London. As you know, I live a modest life in the countryside now. I do the sorts of things my mother always wanted me to do when I was a teenager, like coming home before it gets dark. Okay, it’s not always like that, but there’s no denying the vast difference between living in the almost-middle-of-nowhere and the heart of London.

So I walk into this party. I love the music, and I’m surrounded by such good friends. I feel happy. As I dance, I sometimes lose myself in the rhythm, but I also find myself contemplating. Gratitude fills me—for those who support me, for those who teach me lessons, for the sky and the lake that embrace me and hold me every day.

I feel blessed. I feel good. And I feel sad. I feel the pain.

I think of the children of war. The first live-streamed genocide is happening, and it’s been over 16 months since it began. It hasn’t stopped. The UK government still sells weapons, and my MP never responds to my emails. There’s incredible support from the public, but, of course, I only see what the algorithm shows me. Occasionally, I come across things that make me feel like we’re being stripped of our humanity.

In Sudan, girls and women—ages 8 to 75—are raped systematically. My stomach churns with sickness. It’s horrifying. It’s ugly but we need to hear this. 

I think of the lonely nightingale in Gloucester, singing endlessly for a mate that will never come. My heart aches for that nightingale and for all the other more-than-humans teetering on the brink of extinction, suffering, and losing their homes as ecosystems collapse.

And then there are the floods, the wildfires, the landslides. The Climate Crisis. It’s been decades since Al Gore’s film The Inconvenient Truth warned the masses—showing us how close this crisis was coming, so close we couldn’t ignore it anymore. And now, here it is.

And Artificial Intelligence. Where are we going? Experts warn that governments have failed to legislate in time. What does this mean..?

Here I am, like the little hummingbird*, carrying drops of water from the lake to the fire. Some say it’s ridiculous and maybe laugh at me. But I know I won’t stop. It all feels out of hand sometimes, but I don’t know how else to live. I can and will hold the grief and joy in each cupped hand. I will enjoy what I have and not turn away from the flames. I will take breaks from checking the news, resource myself, and read again. See if there’s one more little thing I can do. I will not forget. 

#AliveAwareAfraid

*La légende du colibri