I'm an 85-year-old environmental novelist and essayist. marysojourner.com. I'm somehow holding depression at bay - not, not somehow. I stay angry. Anger is the finest medicine for depression. Anger gives us energy. Anger, despite all the propaganda against it (especially for women) is precisely what those of us who love the earth need to be feeling - and expressing. The earth loves our fury. Our rage is clean. It is a scalpel. Yeah, I'm using a lot of medical metaphors. That's because the Earth is sick right now - and greedy humans are the infection.
I lived on Yucca Mesa for a year. That place taught me more about love than any human ever has.
Chris — I feel it. Not as keenly as you. Perhaps I just have less skill to keen. The perception of a steadily increasing impotence to effect change. We work within the system of law, of civility, of opportunities for "public comment". And an increasing cynicism that anything "we" do will have a real, positive effect.
But it is not without hope. I was reminded of this in a small way in a recent development in our community.
Very long (multi-decade) story short: waterfront enhancements are coming to the part of the City of Los Angeles that fronts the Port of Los Angeles. Long overdue, heinously mismanaged by the Port, and beginning to surface. A late addition to the project is a concert venue on the seaside (sure, who doesn't want that, besides the entire neighborhood that will get unsubscribed concert sound 100 nights per year?). Obviously the developers planned the entire venue to be surfaced with plastic grass. For family enjoyment in the day and concerts by night. Obviously plastic grass.
(For the technically minded, the concert venue necessitated a Subsequent Environmental Impact Report [SEIR] following up the EIR for the main development. So the Draft SEIR is the DSEIR below :) )
We (a local neighborhood council) filed critical, well-framed, sincere, comments to many of the issues in the DSEIR (ranging from traffic to potential impacts on endangered Least Tern nesting sites). In response to later neighborhood concerns, we (um, I) also wrote a non-polemic but pointed analysis of why you want natural grass instead of plastic grass (Really. You do).
On Friday, the Board of Harbor Commissioners met to decide whether to approve (or not) the DSEIR. Of course, they would approve it — we all understand that.
But here's the thing:
– The developers are really, sincerely, and as a result of community input, considering using natural grass instead of plastic.
– One of the fairly new, but horrifyingly politically experienced, Harbor Commissioners took the opportunity to remind us all that the Commissioners really do have the right and responsibility to examine staff recommendations critically and make determinations on their own.
– That same Commissioner proceeded to air several of the same issues we'd raised in the comments to the DSEIR.
– The technical responses to our comments to the DSEIR included some actual analysis of omitted environmental impacts that we pointed out.
How did that happen? I think by building local trust with non-polemic, reasoned analysis. There really are some decision-makers who still perceive and respect reasoning based on evidence. It's essential to be open and clear that differences of opinion are OK — both sides can have important but different concerns, and eventually a choice has to be made based on other considerations. Often we have a (well-founded) assumption that it is not possible to prevail with that approach. But with the right tone, for the right target, it can penetrate.
In the end, Chris, here's the thing. You know, looking back at what you've done, sometimes you won. There's a national climate right now trying to convince us that victories like that can't ever happen — it's not up to the little people. But we can prevail. And those wins will happen only if we keep working.
In our local case, maybe it's a tiny victory that there will be (maybe) a grass park instead of a plastic mat. But that will make this a better community and a better environment for thousands of residents and visitors. We didn't think that was possible. But it happened.
Yes I'm depressed. Thank you for this honest and well written account of your depression and its cause. That should be Cause, capital C. I needed to hear this and know I'm not alone.
P.S. When I moved from the east coast to the southwest desert, I was surprised when people said, Isn't this rain beautiful? Or: I love rain! practically swooning. It was mystifying to me. But within a year, I understood and felt this passion too.
I’m surviving the firehose of horror by spending time with family and friends, walking with reverence in beautiful wild places, and reading what good humans like you, HCR, Viktor Kravchuk and Rebecca Solnit and Bill McKibben and so many others are sharing here and elsewhere, and taking action to push back in every way I can…. And this morning after reading this letter and then watching something my sister shared (my sister who lived for many years in Joshua Tree and who first shared your writings with me), this popped up in my feed and I immediately thought of you and your question about how we’re each managing to stay afloat. If you haven’t heard of Jesse Waters before you might enjoy checking out his music, as his songs are usually humorous and incisive commentary on what’s going on these days, but this one got me right in the heart:
Chris, thank you for writing honestly about the battle with depression. I have been chronically depressed for the last couple of years, after working hard to update/inform the members of a corporate board I belonged to (an environmental consulting company!) about the state of our climate crisis - and learning more about just how bad things are. And then I spent two years trying to work through political channels - which confirmed the crushing realization of how useless most of our elected representation is when it comes to the issues that truly matter.
What keeps me going is the immense privilege of living in and near places that retain beauty and a diversity of other living things. And being able to read passionate and sensitive words about other places and landscapes I love - like your writing about the desert. Please keep reaching out to us - we are here to help keep each other going.
Less than an inch of rain this year by the 4th of July. Hoping the arroyo which dominates my property runs high enough to challenge my building above the flood plain. There is no escaping madness and meanness; we simply have to recover as quickly as possible for each of us and climb back into the ring.
Melt down get back up, melt down more, get back up. Resilient? Stupid? What I do is daily fall back in love with this world. Sometimes it’s a long bike ride in the sun. Sometimes it’s working at the state house on bills that advance an earthly agenda, sometimes it’s embracing a lover, or just enjoying the absurdity of a Representative who chose to protect our public lands because he can’t assure they would be bought by white citizens.
I live in cohousing and that helps too, as I have their backs and they have mine. Mostly I keep my insanity in check…and sometimes it explodes. I have found I can live with hope and mostly without expectation. I share with my whole heart the pain and suffering.
Sometimes I can’t get up for crying. But I get up.
I'm an 85-year-old environmental novelist and essayist. marysojourner.com. I'm somehow holding depression at bay - not, not somehow. I stay angry. Anger is the finest medicine for depression. Anger gives us energy. Anger, despite all the propaganda against it (especially for women) is precisely what those of us who love the earth need to be feeling - and expressing. The earth loves our fury. Our rage is clean. It is a scalpel. Yeah, I'm using a lot of medical metaphors. That's because the Earth is sick right now - and greedy humans are the infection.
I lived on Yucca Mesa for a year. That place taught me more about love than any human ever has.
Chris — I feel it. Not as keenly as you. Perhaps I just have less skill to keen. The perception of a steadily increasing impotence to effect change. We work within the system of law, of civility, of opportunities for "public comment". And an increasing cynicism that anything "we" do will have a real, positive effect.
But it is not without hope. I was reminded of this in a small way in a recent development in our community.
Very long (multi-decade) story short: waterfront enhancements are coming to the part of the City of Los Angeles that fronts the Port of Los Angeles. Long overdue, heinously mismanaged by the Port, and beginning to surface. A late addition to the project is a concert venue on the seaside (sure, who doesn't want that, besides the entire neighborhood that will get unsubscribed concert sound 100 nights per year?). Obviously the developers planned the entire venue to be surfaced with plastic grass. For family enjoyment in the day and concerts by night. Obviously plastic grass.
(For the technically minded, the concert venue necessitated a Subsequent Environmental Impact Report [SEIR] following up the EIR for the main development. So the Draft SEIR is the DSEIR below :) )
We (a local neighborhood council) filed critical, well-framed, sincere, comments to many of the issues in the DSEIR (ranging from traffic to potential impacts on endangered Least Tern nesting sites). In response to later neighborhood concerns, we (um, I) also wrote a non-polemic but pointed analysis of why you want natural grass instead of plastic grass (Really. You do).
On Friday, the Board of Harbor Commissioners met to decide whether to approve (or not) the DSEIR. Of course, they would approve it — we all understand that.
But here's the thing:
– The developers are really, sincerely, and as a result of community input, considering using natural grass instead of plastic.
– One of the fairly new, but horrifyingly politically experienced, Harbor Commissioners took the opportunity to remind us all that the Commissioners really do have the right and responsibility to examine staff recommendations critically and make determinations on their own.
– That same Commissioner proceeded to air several of the same issues we'd raised in the comments to the DSEIR.
– The technical responses to our comments to the DSEIR included some actual analysis of omitted environmental impacts that we pointed out.
How did that happen? I think by building local trust with non-polemic, reasoned analysis. There really are some decision-makers who still perceive and respect reasoning based on evidence. It's essential to be open and clear that differences of opinion are OK — both sides can have important but different concerns, and eventually a choice has to be made based on other considerations. Often we have a (well-founded) assumption that it is not possible to prevail with that approach. But with the right tone, for the right target, it can penetrate.
In the end, Chris, here's the thing. You know, looking back at what you've done, sometimes you won. There's a national climate right now trying to convince us that victories like that can't ever happen — it's not up to the little people. But we can prevail. And those wins will happen only if we keep working.
In our local case, maybe it's a tiny victory that there will be (maybe) a grass park instead of a plastic mat. But that will make this a better community and a better environment for thousands of residents and visitors. We didn't think that was possible. But it happened.
I'll take the win.
Yes I'm depressed. Thank you for this honest and well written account of your depression and its cause. That should be Cause, capital C. I needed to hear this and know I'm not alone.
P.S. When I moved from the east coast to the southwest desert, I was surprised when people said, Isn't this rain beautiful? Or: I love rain! practically swooning. It was mystifying to me. But within a year, I understood and felt this passion too.
I’m surviving the firehose of horror by spending time with family and friends, walking with reverence in beautiful wild places, and reading what good humans like you, HCR, Viktor Kravchuk and Rebecca Solnit and Bill McKibben and so many others are sharing here and elsewhere, and taking action to push back in every way I can…. And this morning after reading this letter and then watching something my sister shared (my sister who lived for many years in Joshua Tree and who first shared your writings with me), this popped up in my feed and I immediately thought of you and your question about how we’re each managing to stay afloat. If you haven’t heard of Jesse Waters before you might enjoy checking out his music, as his songs are usually humorous and incisive commentary on what’s going on these days, but this one got me right in the heart:
https://youtu.be/heJwVdUm-CA?si=Od5LPOWn_wxvuG0F
Chris, thank you for writing honestly about the battle with depression. I have been chronically depressed for the last couple of years, after working hard to update/inform the members of a corporate board I belonged to (an environmental consulting company!) about the state of our climate crisis - and learning more about just how bad things are. And then I spent two years trying to work through political channels - which confirmed the crushing realization of how useless most of our elected representation is when it comes to the issues that truly matter.
What keeps me going is the immense privilege of living in and near places that retain beauty and a diversity of other living things. And being able to read passionate and sensitive words about other places and landscapes I love - like your writing about the desert. Please keep reaching out to us - we are here to help keep each other going.
Less than an inch of rain this year by the 4th of July. Hoping the arroyo which dominates my property runs high enough to challenge my building above the flood plain. There is no escaping madness and meanness; we simply have to recover as quickly as possible for each of us and climb back into the ring.
Why did you build?
Melt down get back up, melt down more, get back up. Resilient? Stupid? What I do is daily fall back in love with this world. Sometimes it’s a long bike ride in the sun. Sometimes it’s working at the state house on bills that advance an earthly agenda, sometimes it’s embracing a lover, or just enjoying the absurdity of a Representative who chose to protect our public lands because he can’t assure they would be bought by white citizens.
I live in cohousing and that helps too, as I have their backs and they have mine. Mostly I keep my insanity in check…and sometimes it explodes. I have found I can live with hope and mostly without expectation. I share with my whole heart the pain and suffering.
Sometimes I can’t get up for crying. But I get up.