My mind is quick to name a thing Wasted- my day, my time, my life. But before us, Wasted had nowhere to call home in this created world. No; Wasted is a thing contrived exclusively with human hands. like hungry machines gobbling forests; like plastics degenerating into ocean waters, Filling the bellies of Albatrosses so new to this world that their cradle of sticks is all they yet know of it. Mother cocks her head, confused at her limp, cherished newborn because trust in what this ocean provides is all she’s ever known; is the only choice she has. For Waste was merely a thing imagined, until we wrought it with our own two industrious hands. So when my mind wants to speak of Waste, let me take a seat and bear witness to the life that could have been- Gliding over a world comprised entirely of blue and gray, belonging only to her- A world we share in the abstract, but I could never hope to know. For her feet would not know dry land for more than a year, propelled only by a handful of wing beats. And she would have lived for sixty-six years, I’m told. That is, if her belly were not lined with printer cartridges.
This morning, I sat down meaning to gripe- poetically, of course- about how writing was just a waste of my time. I am grateful though, that Life had a better idea- and that the overused adage about the creative process being a discipline of ‘just making yourself available’ to whatever is needed in this world today- seems to have some merit, at least for today.
I first read about the plight of the Laysan Albatross in Gayle Boss’s Wild Hope during lent last month, coffee in hand. On that morning, I cried and cried- the helplessness was heavy. But she wraps up her book with “a dream, seeded in sadness and love, quietly defies cynicism and grows by turning fear into work.”
Turning fear into work, for land-locked me, looks like picking up trash while I’m hiking with my boys (the vast majority of trash in the ocean comes straight out of rivers). But it also looks like finding who is already there, already doing the work, and supporting them- and asking you to do the same.
As an aside, I will be writing with the aim to raise money for the environmental causes dearest to me for the next month preceding my 30th birthday. Perhaps it’s not popular, but I (unashamedly) love my birthday.. and mostly gifts. And it would undoubtedly be a gift to me if you participated this month- donate, tell me your thoughts, share this work. Instead of creating a fundraising page, I will offer to you organizations that I support and you can choose whichever one speaks to you- just let me know if you do.
So whether for me, for the Albatross, or for our world- please join me in turning fear into work today.