Living With What Is

Creating Language to Meet the Moment

"What words should we use for the rainforests given they are nothing less than the earth's lungs?" -Andri Magnason

In his book, On Time and Water, Icelandic author Andri Magnuson considers how to write an obituary for a glacier. He asks, from where should we draw the words to describe what is happening to the Earth – from science, religion, economics? "Is the Earth an underutilized raw material, an infinite holiness, or must unspoiled areas be reduced to charts and graphs about the economic and social value of nature?"

In describing the most significant challenge to humans of our time, Magnuson believes that language fails us. We are at a profound existential moment, yet where are the words to meet it? As we face the most substantial changes in the Earth's chemistry over the last 30 to 50 million years, he notes that we often meet the words for climate catastrophe with blunted responses.

Words have different meanings at different times, and it might take years for words or concepts to be fully apprehended. Magnuson offers the example of "ocean acidification," a term coined only in 2003, which refers to a reduction in the pH of the oceans. Until recently, scientists believed the ocean buffered atmospheric warming by absorbing 30% of the CO2 we emit. We now know that CO2 does not disappear in water any more than in air. For ocean species, acidity in the sea is like that in our blood. Because of ocean acidification, much of the sea life that feeds the fish we eat is dying off.

People can disagree about the cause of climate change and point to past ice ages to deny the human- made nature of the problem. Magnuson says they cannot make the same argument for ocean acidification, for which no parallel exists.

Where are the words to connect us viscerally to acknowledging what is and bring our full attention to what we must do? Language that resonates is essential for appropriate action.

Andri Magnason eulogizing a glacier.

Magnason notes that climate scientists have been accused of being harbingers of an apocalypse. On the contrary, he argues, they have been far too cautious. "Even an expert on the subject didn't seem to be able to breathe life into his research … to get across the sensations that arose from a knowledge of impending death of everything he loved. Maybe scientists don't fully understand what they are saying until others understand."

This kind of muted conversation reminds me of healthcare’s differing views regarding what is in the best interest of patients. Until recently, it wasn't uncommon for physicians to encourage families to withhold the truth of a patient's medical condition to protect them. For example, in the United States, nondisclosure of a cancer diagnosis was the norm in the 1960s. Or, if the doctor was not outright lying, euphemisms were a common practice, using a more comfortable description rather than a more accurate one. Twenty years ago, my friend living in Greece was encouraged to tell her father that his advanced colon cancer was a very treatable prostate cancer. On some level, the body knows, so what does it serve to try to deceive it?

The goal of speaking truth to reality is not to induce fear but to encourage clear thinking about priorities and appropriate action. Telling the truth about someone's diagnosis is not meant to cause fear (even as it does) but to empower the patient to be the best advocate in deciding their course of treatment.

If we use language to mute or diminish reality, we will not be in a position of strength to do something about it. Words of deception do not lead to realistic hope.

Where are the words to convey sorrow for what we are losing and have already lost in terms of species and natural resources? What words can connect us to our planetary home that will serve as a personal and political call to arms? Can we more generously use language that spurs us to love and protect the Earth and each other?

Let’s create language that viscerally resonates; we don't have to limit ourselves to scientific terms. We don't need psychologists like me to term coins like "climate anxiety" to name or validate our deep-seated angst about living in a time when we have initiated the planet's sixth extinction cycle.

What kind of language and conversation would give us a sense of collective purpose and hope? We don't need to hear "everything's going to be alright" because we don't know what the future holds. Instead, we need hope that, come what may, we can engage with what is together and find meaning in that. We can better appreciate and fight like hell (peacefully) to preserve and heal our planet. We cannot do this without better caring for each other.

Magnason does not sugarcoat what we are up against, yet he remains hopeful that we can meet the challenge. "We have the tools, all the devices, and all the knowledge to do it. And if we do not, we will fail both our ancestors and our descendants."

Solutions of the scale needed are achievable only through government initiatives, visionary political leaders, and intergovernmental competition and collaboration. But to personally meet the moment, we must also change our lifestyles. Magnason implores us to take seriously the question: "If my life is in danger, if my Earth and my descendants are in danger, aren't I obligated to understand what's at stake?"

The solutions we seek might surprise us, but we know the general direction. Magnason lists the four categories:

• Reducing food waste and making dietary changes.

• Solar and wind energy and electric transport.

• Conservation of forests, afforestation, and restoration of wetlands and rainforests.

• Empowering women (equality is one of the most critical solutions to future environmental problems).

It’s hard to imagine anything worth more effort or sacrifice than our planetary home. Working together to protect Her would give us the powerful sense of community and belonging we yearn for. What we do everyday matters. Just as when a loved one gets news of a health crisis, and they face the possibility of dying, we shift our gaze and energy to what matters most, supporting their best options to return to health. Let’s turn our attention and ask ourselves how to do the same for Mother Earth.

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