Climate Journaling

There's a common sentiment in our society that the events of our day-to-day lives should affect us - the cost of internet, competition for a parking spot, the insensitive comment you accidentally made to a friend - but that world events, large-scale trends, are just fodder for the 6:00 news, with no impact on our state-of-mind or well-being. As a consequence, those of us who can't help but internalize the state of the world feel isolated - trapped in solitude without the strength or community to strive for change. This blog presents a counter-argument. It is a dumping ground for the thoughts and grievances of a first-world citizen trying to make sense of an ominous future - how the news and knowledge of climate change, global warming, climate disruption (whatever you want to call it) affect me personally and emotionally, spiritually and logically.

I am a second year masters student studying natural resources - climate and renewable energy policy, to be exact. I live in Burlington, Vermont, in a bubble within a bubble within a bubble within a bubble. I study climate change and I am surrounded by friends and colleagues studying the environment, or at least caring about it. It shapes our conversations, our thoughts, our choices and our state of mind. Some fears disappear when brought to the light. Climate change is the opposite. The more I learn, the more threatening it seems. That's not to say I'm consumed by it, in fact, I often forget about it entirely as I drive my car, buy an avocado, and generally pursue a pretty average lifestyle. But, from an academic perspective, I find the ability to forget just as interesting as the philosophizing and concerns. I imagine the question, asked 50 or a 100 years from now: What were they thinking? How could they do this? Here is an answer from both victim and perpetrator, the truth and reconciliation of a single individual.

I hope to drop notes - just a few lines everyday - to document my latest thoughts, compelling news, etc. This is only the beginning.

Peace,
Rebecca