As We Face Climate Catastrophe, the Little Things Are Getting to Me.

The future feels suffocating.

Photo by Matt Palmer on Unsplash

I guess you could say it’s force of habit that has me turning on the Today Show every morning before work. I sit with my cup of coffee for a half hour or so, cat curled up beside me with a blanket and my laptop, trying to figure out what to write about that day with the show on in the background. I still remember a few months ago or so when they did the story about how Star Trek’s William Shatner would be going into space for the first time with Jeff Bezos’ Blue Origin, and as the oldest person to ever make the trip.

But, it was his thoughts afterwards that — for me personally — felt like a slap in the face.

Variety published an excerpt from his book where he discussed the trip, and Shatner wrote:

“…When I looked in the opposite direction, into space, there was no mystery, no majestic awe to behold . . . all I saw was death.

I saw a cold, dark, black emptiness. It was unlike any blackness you can see or feel on Earth. It was deep, enveloping, all-encompassing. I turned back toward the light of home. I could see the curvature of Earth, the beige of the desert, the white of the clouds and the blue of the sky. It was life. Nurturing, sustaining, life. Mother Earth. Gaia. And I was…