Living in a world where the divide between those who care for the environment and those who don’t seems to widen every day, I often find myself spiralling into thoughts about what our planet might become. I read articles on climate change, and on the damage we’ve done, and I can’t help but feel a deep sense of anxiety. What will be left for the generations to come? What kind of legacy are we crafting with our careless hands? There’s a grief that wells up, not just for what we’ve destroyed, but for what is yet to be lost.
Yet, once that wave of anxiety passes, life slips back into routine. We leave the lights on, the fan humming in one room while we enjoy the TV in another. For a species crippled by procrastination, forever putting off what needs to be done, how can we be expected to act for the greater good? How can we be expected to save a planet, a singular masterpiece in the vastness of the universe, when we barely manage to tend to our own lives? We are tangled in the trivialities of daily existence, so immersed in the noise that surrounds us that the enormity of responsibility required to heal the Earth feels impossibly distant. The truth is, the call to care for this planet isn’t just a task—it’s a sacrifice, and one we’re often too distracted to make. But if not now, then when? If not us, then who?
Throughout history, many human communities have lived under the constant threat of environmental disasters, their lives intertwined with the fragile balance of nature. One of the most extreme examples is the people of Easter Island, who faced the collapse of their civilization after deforestation and overexploitation of their resources. Once a thriving culture, they fell victim to their environment’s exhaustion, leaving behind only the haunting remnants of their stone statues.
In more recent history, the people of the Dust Bowl in the 1930s United States faced ecological disaster due to a combination of drought and poor land management. Entire communities were displaced as once-fertile land turned to dust, their homes and livelihoods literally blown away by the winds. The Pacific island nations, like Kiribati and Tuvalu, now face imminent submersion due to rising sea levels caused by climate change. The ocean, once their source of sustenance and identity, is now a threat, swallowing their land inch by inch. Coastal communities in Bangladesh, too, are losing their homes to rising tides, forced to relocate as rivers overflow and erode the land. These communities not only face the tangible threat of losing their homes but also carry the emotional weight of impending loss.
We, as humans, are gifted with unique empathy, a deep awareness of the past, present, and future, and an understanding of the far-reaching consequences of our actions. We are creatures who can imagine and foresee, yet we often ignore the violent reminders nature sends our way, calling us to act. The tides may rise, the forests may burn, and the earth may tremble—not just as warnings but as the consequences of our own neglect.
Beyond our personal losses, we must embrace the traits that define our humanity: compassion, foresight, and a collective sense of responsibility. Science and technology have indeed propelled us forward, solving mysteries and reshaping our world. Yet true happiness does not lie solely in what we create. It exists in what was created alongside us—this Earth, this fragile ecosystem, this life force we share with all living beings. It’s time to remember that our greatest achievement isn’t just in shaping the future but in preserving what has always been with us: the rhythms of nature, the whisper of trees, and the flow of rivers, all breathing the same life into us.