Facing the Current Apocalypse

On the power of walking in the woods and paying attention.

Thin Ice | Photo by Kristina Amelong

“Humanity must redefine what it understands to be valuable if it’s going to survive.”

— David J. Temple

Walking through the woods next to the lake, I hurl a tennis ball and watch as the yellow sphere disappears into the night in front of me, chased by three dogs. Dead leaves crunch under each of my steps.

I pause, inhaling deeply, seeking the comforting aroma of pine and earth. Instead, a faint, acrid note intrudes—a reminder of the article I read earlier about the lake's contamination with PFAS, those pervasive chemicals seeping into the water, the soil, the very essence of this sacred wood and so many wild places.

I grew up down the road, and for half a century, these woods have been my sanctuary, a constant in an ever-shifting world. Now, the encroachment of human-made toxins feels like a personal affront, a violation of an ancient bond between myself and the natural world.

Tundra swans bugle in the half-frozen lake. I wonder where they are in their annual 4,000-mile journey, and in what ways human activity may be altering their migration.

Sheeta drops the ball in front of my feet. “Good girl.” I pat the black and white fur on her head and bend over to scoop the ball before one of the other dogs steals it.

I fling the ball onto the thin ice. Yellow bounces against black. I feel my heart come alive again as the dogs step from the shore onto the delicate ice under a moonless night sky. I listen to the ice wobble and ping under the dogs’ weight. Walking along the shore, I let the chirping ice enter my awareness. I know the power of witnessing.

The Power of Witnessing | Photo by Kristina Amelong

I know the lake is mine—her cycles of ice and water, her birds. I know I am hers. I walk here every day, something my human body needs, as it needs air to breathe. Continuing down the path, I step over a large branch and note that I didn’t see it with my eyes, but felt it with my awareness. I am adapting to the wilderness!

I dearly wish our bodies—mine, the dogs, the birds—could adapt to the toxicity in our world, but I know this isn’t possible.

Still, I am absolutely certain that this planetary crisis by no means has to be a human endpoint. If enough individuals can face, grieve, rage over, and devote full imagination to current apocalyptic patterns, this looming mass extinction could become a birth of ever-greater meaning—a potentially vast renewal of democracy, justice, love, beauty, and joy—if assisted by enough attentive souls.

Luna runs up to me, panting, looking up into my eyes. I smile. No matter what life sends my way, I know I will always relish these opportunities to notice reality, to join with the world around me. I choose to remain attentive, to claim my responsibility and my role of midwifing death into birth.