I call myself a ‘climate change warrior.’ I’ve been talking about and taking action around climate change for the past eight years. I know more about the science of climate change, am more familiar with dire predictions and have had more climate conversations with members of Congress from both sides of the aisle than many people—but in the end, I had nothing to say to my friend.
A friend of mine came up to me after one of the shows: “I had no idea Sarah struggled so much. She’s always so full of life, so animated,” she said. “I’ve been going through a hard time, but I don’t talk about it. I can’t talk about it. But when Sarah so boldly told her truth, something opened up for me. Tell her thank you,” she said. She was crying.
My friend Ken Cloke wrote the piece below about the shifting sands between North and South Korea. But the piece is so much bigger. His question, “how far apart are people in conflict?” unravels my stuck thinking.
It’s ten pm. My windows are open to let in the cool, evening air. But accompanying the breeze, is the battering sound of a rat-a-tat-tat helicopter circling overhead. The incessant noise fills every corner of my bedroom. Fills all the quiet space in my head. I can’t escape the sound.
I live on the second floor of a twelve-story apartment building that has enough morning light to keep my one indoor plant alive—a prayer plant that seems to live in spite of me. It fans its leaves out in the morning and closes them up at night, most likely praying that I will remember to water it.
