It’s a pretty unsettling time to be alive. And I’m not just speaking figuratively: On a recent beach walk, I passed several new slides — clear evidence of coastal erosion. Some of the detritus took the form of thin geometric plates; other areas appeared to have fallen in big chunks. But no matter the size and form of the eroded matter, relatively new signage informed me that “85% of the California coast currently experiences active erosion that can be attributed to a combination of natural and anthropogenic causes.” That’s a lot of coastline sloughing off and being washed away by the next high tide, due in part to the burning of fossil fuels. A restroom and the beloved snack bar at this same beach were recently removed due to their imminent exposure to the rising sea.
Add to this the forest-killing insect infestations plaguing the West, the increasingly violent storms and floods and fires, the perennial drought. As if all this isn’t enough, innocent people are being killed indiscriminately in wars being fought far from here. Domestically, we have a government terrorizing its own citizens and waging all-out war on the environment, including the clean air and water that sustain life — not just human life, but all life.
I recently attended a workshop on managing through uncertainty. The presenter shared a matrix of self-help techniques, including taking walks, which, as you know, is part of my routine. Whether it’s the weaponization of the economy, the future of your health care, or more personal threats to you and your family members, coping techniques are in order. Listening to music also made the list, and this issue of High Country News contains a potent and beautiful tribute to the healing power of music. In “Precious Metalheads” (see page 30), staff writer B. “Toastie” Oaster takes us to a festival on the Blackfeet Nation built on a mental-health-meets-heavy-metal platform that one fan referred to as “a strange road to joy.”
Joy: that feeling when some unknown, unseen force seems to draw your chest upwards — the part of your body known in yoga as your “heart center.” A couple of weeks ago, I was in Colorado for an HCN retreat and board meeting when early one evening a double rainbow appeared, drawing us all outside and onto the land. I do not use the word blessing that freely, but to witness such phenomena feels like a blessing. No president or hostile regime can take this from us. For a moment, we are blinded by awe and can think of nothing other than our gratitude for being present to bear witness.
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