My Story

I had a revelation this morning
Looking in the mirror
Tracing the lines etched on my face
Usually I see them, try to smooth them
Worrying about the worry lines & signs
And how they reveal my age But today as I stared at my reflection
I saw movements in those lines & marks
Acts of defiance and resolve
The bruised color beneath my eyes: the fight to always act on climate
This line next to my eye: the trench where we say Black Lives Matter
Where we strive for equity and understanding among all people
And this one: filled with the shouts of females all over the world
As we continue to rise up and claim the future
The furrow between my brow: carved there by countless conversations
With those who don’t understand the harm done by fascism and bigotry
And then I move on to see those lines next to my mouth:
The result of countless smiles blessed to me by my daughters
And all those who have brought me joy
So many more triumphs and sorrows
Etched into my face
That it would take years to unrav…

Tragedy & Transformation

Speaking with a friend the other day, we were both lamenting the inaction of many young people to get really involved in the fight against climate change. (In fact, I even wrote another blog about the lack of young people showing up a few weeks ago.) As we were talking, my friend questioned why the youth don’t feel urgency around this issue, why they aren’t willing to make sacrifices now knowing what the future holds if we don’t take action. And my response was:
“I’m sure that the kids, just like the adults, are fucking terrified and just want to live while they can.”
And it struck deep for both of us as we realized how scary and big this problem must seem to millennials and “Generation Z”. Facing this issue is overwhelming for us, but it’s existence-shattering-scary for most kids who take the time to really look at it. The “fight or flight” response kicks in when we are faced with a threat and, evolutionarily, if we are facing an opponent that we have little to no chance of defeating o…

Hey, Kids...

(Disclaimer: I love lots of "old white people" and if you are one of those old white people who is working to make the world a better place, then my thanks to you; just know that you are in the minority. This post, however, is directed at (mostly) young people. And is about showing up. Or NOT showing up, as the case may be.)

My timeline is full of people in my generation and younger complaining about the state of the world. Complaining about the sexism. Complaining about the racism. Complaining about the fascism. Just generally complaining.

But you know what isn't full? Attendance at volunteer trainings. The Statehouse on advocacy days. The inboxes of our state legislators. Campaign offices. The freaking ballot boxes on election day.

You know who does occasionally show up? Who does make the decisions on actions and bills? Old (mostly white) people. Are you okay with old white people determining the future of our country and our world? Because that, my friends, is what…

Reflections on a Peace-Full Life

Being home with my daughters over their break has been enlightening in many ways. Most notably today I realized how easy it would be to cocoon myself in the cares and worries of the everyday and ignore the world at large. It would take very little effort for me to block out the horrors committed daily, the violence impacting our people and our planet, and only to do the right thing for those closest to me without agonizing over the impact it may have on those I do not know or the Earth at large.
I intellectually understand how people can put blinders on and just live day to day. And I was tempted. To move back into a world where all I had to think about was those I love most. A world of more contentment and peace. One where my every action isn’t tempered with thoughts of how this might not be best for the planet. Or guilt over all the things I have that others do not. One where I don’t constantly remind myself of the privilege I hold as a white woman born to a family that was able to…

Uneasy Autumn

Lines of rigid ash Along darkened roads Smoke chokes the air Of the only home I’ve known It seems as if the sun Is vacationing somewhere Uneasy autumn in a burning world
Uneasy autumn A stranger in this place Seasonal pleasures of cider and leaves Are replaced by shivers of fear As we begin to say goodbye To the home we held so dear A dark blanket unfurled in an Uneasy autumn in a burning world
Uneasy autumn Even the sea is enraged Waves whipping ashore Like a beast freed from a cage Homes lost to the depths Or vanished in the smoke Even the air becomes an enemy during an Uneasy autumn in a burning world

To Save Ourselves

It has been a rough ride, has it not? Most of us are likely still shaken by the events in Charlottesville this past weekend.

I've done quite a bit of reflection and self-analysis the past few days. As a white woman from a middle-class family, I recognize my privilege. I do not worry about the safety of my daughters should they have an encounter with the police. I do not worry about them being targeted for the color of their skin. What I do worry about is my own "white guilt" and the tendency of us white folk to take over spaces and conversations as a result of that guilt – and, even worse, not really contributing much when we are present. I worry about the lack of time I have to really hone in on this issue as I use my privilege to fight for environmental issues. But mostly, I worry about the fate of our planet and our society.

I worry that there is SO MUCH work to be done on racial issues in this world we live in. And I have pledged to do more as a white woman and an ally…


I've been hiding from reality - unsuccessfully - for much too long. It turns out that the world doesn't get better just because you try and block out all of the horror. The runaway environmental disaster, the economic fallacy, the human-caused devastation of war - none of this goes away when you stop looking. It just builds and builds until you can't hide from it anymore and then it slaps you in the face hundreds of times over when you finally open your eyes.

I'll be honest - I'm tired. I've only been in this fight for a little over a decade and I'm damned exhausted. I don't understand how those who have had their eyes open - those who have lived decades upon decades completely woke on every level - do it day in and day out. Their strength and stamina is a miracle to me. One I am desperately trying to emulate in my own life. So I am struggling back up out of this funk and reawakening to reality.

This fight is hard. So. So. So. Hard. And I come from a pl…