Creating My Own “Skin” In This Weird Game

A bird house hung on a tree in the quad

For years now, I’ve felt disconnected from the world around me. The hyper-individualization of the climate crisis led to internalized guilt, shame, and frustration, which manifested into defensive, nihilistic-like apathy. I knew composting one cup wouldn’t change the rate at which the oceans were heating, so why bother? I didn’t feel like I had agency, and more than that, I felt I didn’t have “skin in the game.” This is a concept taken from Britt Wray’s book, “Generation Dread” which has continued to resonate with me. I kept questioning: if we don’t feel that we have “skin” in the game, what inspires us to dream of and fight for a better future? 

Two deer eating grass I spotted on a drive.

Among many other lessons, this course taught me that while we may not be able to stop death, we do have agency and with it, the power to create our own “skin.” We have pathways towards managing death anxiety (TMT), we have resources to help us move forward (“Active Hope”), and most impactful (and cliche) of all, we have each other to help solve this problem. We inherited the sins of our progenitors, and while it’s unfair, we have to be the ones to fix them. I won’t lie that this is a daunting task, but it is powerful to realize that we are an agentic collective. While my action project felt disjointed, limiting, and generally not generative, it did help me recognize that despite a lot of outward apathy, all of my peers were dreaming of a better future, we were just worried our hopes would lead to disappointment. Moreover, the group project reminded me of group agency (our ability to do something together, even if it felt semi insignificant) and our shared purpose.

An owl in the tree spotted on my daily walk.

It’s also powerful to recognize that I have individual agency, that doesn’t detract from, but strengthens collective action. This was most inspired by systems thinking, which has allowed me to develop a greater understanding of the world’s complex integration systems and the importance of purpose. I have realized that to be part of collective solutions, I have to create my own purpose first. So, I began that process this quarter. I spent time everyday creating my own “skin” by taking photos of things that reminded me of why I had an incentive to continue fighting, hoping, and dreaming of a better future, which has been incredibly empowering. For the first time, I not only feel connected to the world, but able to do something to ensure its future – both by myself and collectively. 

Systems Thinking, Death, and Love

This class helped me put my actions within a larger context and taught me that death allows me to love the world more deeply. I was part of the Save the Orcas action project where my group and I created Instagram posts for their campaign. Although spending time with my group members and working together towards a common task was fun, I feel that my work did not substantially help the orcas. Even so, as activists, it’s important to celebrate the intermediate steps whenever we feel like we haven’t advanced our goals enough (Mary & Johnstone 223). While I did not feel like I helped orcas, this project taught me how to present information in consumable small bites and how to communicate in a visual manner. In this modern world where information flows at a rapid rate, to catch people’s attention I will need to communicate in an attractive and digestible manner. The result of my action project is not the end point but fits into my larger conservation journey.

One of the quotes that resonated with me the most is in In Praise of Mortality, Barrows and Macy say, “with only a short time remaining to the cities we have built… there is no other act but loving this world more deeply” (10). In the context of death, everything I have and everyone I love will be gone one day. It is because I know that painful time will come that I want to treasure and love them more deeply while I still have the time to. I don’t want to take anything for granted anymore and will treasure what I do have rather than continuously pursue something more. In the context of the Anthropocene where there is geological, atmospheric, and political disorder, perhaps this is exactly the time where I need to love the most. Because it is love that makes me treasure the falling cities at all. Love helps me look through the disorder and reminds me why I am fighting to better the world because I love this world so much in the first place. I will face death with love. I will face the incoming Anthropocene with love.

In the zombie apocalyptic video game “The Last of Us”, the two main characters admire a herd of giraffes that now roam within the fallen city. Journey’s End by Orioto.

 

How then shall I live?

My major takeaway from this course regards how I want to proceed with living my life.

We have learned that death anxiety rules our lives and decisions, and that we cope through various forms of terror management. This constant fear drives our species to war, industrialization, colonization, exploitation, and now to the brink of a planetary climate disaster.

One of our contemplative practices asked us to consider three mindsets. Where 1) the world is generally getting worse, 2) the world is generally getting better, and 3) the world is how it is. I find the 3rd mindset to be the most realistic and empowering. In this view, we see the world as it is without sugarcoating it or focusing purely on evils. In this view, humanity has agency. We can sit back and continue our trajectory toward a terrible future, or we can choose to collaborate, innovate, and save our species from collapse.

With this mindset of agency, I am struck by the question: “how then shall I live?”

I need to start with my forms of terror management. Before this course, my management consisted of spree online shopping to fill a non-existent gap in my life and constant distractions because silence allowed intrusive thoughts to run rampant. These are unsustainable strategies.

Professor Jem Bendall in his video about Deep Adaptation asks viewers to cherish what they have. To enjoy life in the short time that we have it. Though I talk about why I dislike Bendall’s perspective in another blog post, I have come to accept this concept when taken alongside the strategies presented in Active Hope, the relief and fulfillment of volunteer work like my action project for WashPIRG’s Save the Orcas, and the hope that humanity still has agency to change.

Image Credit: Syracuse Peace Council

To answer the question “how then shall I live?,” I must adjust my terror management. Rather than needlessly consuming, I can focus on being grateful for what I already have. Rather than constantly distracting myself, I can spend more meaningful time with friends and family to feel reassured that I have people I care about who also care about me. I can take part in local efforts that better my community and environment. I can make changes like being better about recycling and using my purchasing power to favor local, sustainable businesses. I can choose to live with hope.

There are easily implementable things I can do to live a more conscientious and sustainable life without drastically changing my lifestyle. I don’t know if this is enough, but I hope that between collective individual action, death anxiety harnessed by corporate inventors to find technological solutions, and global politicians trying to one-up each other, we will find a way to persist as a species.

The Most Important Keystone Species

Since the first week of this quarter, I have been considering the question: “What are people for in terms of the basic ecological functioning of the Earth?” There isn’t an all encompassing answer to this question, but there is a definition that we fit into.

Keystone species are often defined as a group of organisms that hold an ecosystem together, or have a disproportionately large effect on the system compared to their abundance. When the keystone species is removed, the system will collapse.

A demonstration of the importance of a keystone species (sharks in this case). Find it Here

It’s easy to make the argument that humans have an immense effect on the entire planet – it’s in the news everyday. But how are we holding the ecosystems of the planet together? We are unique in this world because we have the awareness and the ability to want to save the biodiversity that we are quickly killing. We can take a collapsing ecosystem and prop it up with resources and breeding programs so that it lives on. We put patches and glue over cracks in our failing global ecological system in the hopes that what we fix will ripple and stave off extinction in other parts of the world. It’s a valiant and necessary effort, and without it, the biodiversity on our planet would collapse and disappear much faster.

However, humans have created a culture around the death of species that makes it hard to make the most logical decisions as we try and patch our ecosystems. More often than not, if a species is seen as cute, cuddly, or ‘good’ (the giant panda, tigers, blue whales) we pump resources into trying to save them. If a species is seen as dangerous, scary, or ‘bad’ (sharks, tuna, rhinos) then we turn a blind eye as their numbers dwindle further. This is often the case even if a group like sharks or tuna are proven to be much more ecologically important compared to something like pandas. In our culture, we are conditioned to want to save the things that we are emotionally attached to and that provide value on a surface level.

A sign found in Cape Cod warning of the dangers of sharks. Find it Here

As the Anthropocene continues, and the number of species on the Endangered Species List rises, it will be important to remember that what we need to save may not be what we are conditioned to think needs saving. We are the most important keystone species on our planet, so we need to wield our power carefully.

A graph of the declining shark populations for eight species. Find it Here

Further Thought:

Sharkwater from Rob Stewart following themes about the necessary conservation of misunderstood species.

Nature Is My Religion

Recently, I have begun to see myself as a piece of the earth rather than a being separate from it. This is something I began to feel not only in thought but as part of my soul. From skiing pillows in remote British Columbia as snow dumped onto us for days, to watching seals cover themselves with sand for protection from the sun on the shores of the Redwood Forest, I began to truly believe that the God I worship is mother nature and my religion is the natural world we live in.

Clouds above a mountain peak over looking a frozen lake.

Summit of Alpental after 4 inches of fresh snowfall.

With this spiritual discovery came the painful awareness that the things I saw and experienced are in danger of disappearing or being irreversibly altered by the effects of global warming. Less rainfall means shallow streams and Salmon not being able to make it to spawning grounds, wildfires destroying thousands of acres causing ash to rain from the sky states away, and homes being brought out to sea by extreme hurricanes doesn’t even begin to describe the effects that climate change has had on our planet. 

So, I took this class. Because how can I see the earth as my mother without understanding how to grasp my own mortality as humans continue to kill it? Can we save it? If I ride my bike and take short showers, does that manage the terror I feel for the future?

Sunlight breaking through fog over the trees on the shore of a beach covered in large mossy rocks.

Early morning where the freshwater river enters the oceans on the California coast in the Redwoods National Forest.

In class, we talked about systems theory in the context of understanding that we are living in the world rather than on it. I resonated a lot with this because it forces people to see something as a makeup of parts and how those parts function together to make a whole. Which is what the Earth is and how we participate in that system.

However, I think that it is important to see the interconnectedness of everything that works together to create the environment we live in, but Deep Adaptations provides a pessimistic view of climate change that not only seems to perpetuate an idea that the Earth cannot be saved from the harm that has been caused to it. This seems to embody the extremes of terror management theory that we have discussed in class and come to understand through various educational materials that show the extremes resulting from being reminded of our own mortality. In this case, the extreme of believing there is no reason to have hope.

Sources and References:

https://www.npr.org/2019/09/13/760599683/were-all-gonna-die-how-fear-of-death-drives-our-behavior

lifeworth.com/deepadaptation.pdf

youtube.com/watch

Separation is the Greatest Illusion

Political Ecology of Death in the Anthropocene views the world with “Systems Theory.” To me, this means understanding that everything is part of something more than itself.

In “Terror Management Theory”, psychologist Sheldon Solomon argues that our fear of death leads us to strive to “become part of something less mortal…[to be] a person of value in a world of meaning” (Vedantam 2019). However, even if we do not actively pursue it, we are already part of something bigger than ourselves, something immortal. Even when we are alone on a desert island we are not alone. The fish provide minerals for us to function. Our waste provides nutrients to the worms. There is no “self.” We are already part of something valuable and meaningful.

Source: Summer Grassland by Kathryn Foster

I feel a sense of peace when I think of myself from this perspective. I imagine myself as a blade of grass in a painting. I sway with the wind alongside other blades of grass as the sun provides us energy and the air provide us food. However, one can look at this blade of grass from another perspective. It must compete for resources and lives in fear of being eaten by herbivores. Thus, it grows the deepest roots to uptake the most water and releases chemicals to defend itself.

I think it is the latter perspective that dominates our society. Solomon argues that the fear of death also leads to “self-esteem striving,” where individuals work to be “better, smarter, richer” to further make meaning of our lives (Vedantam 2019). When we do not think of ourselves are part of a greater system, we must expand ourselves to not be overtaken by others. The only value we have is our own value, and the only life we further is our own.

But even when that blade of grass is overtaken by other blades of grass or eaten by herbivores it lives on within others. We always live on.

As Professor Karen mentioned, I also think this world is amid a “transition” from a perspective of self to a perspective of the whole. In the Anthropocene where humans touch every part of the world, we have no choice but to recognize the world as connected. Perhaps as we grow more aware of this wholeness, we can create new systems of functioning to account for the impact our choices have on the world.

Work Cited:

Foster, Kathryn. Summer Grasslands. 2009, Fine Art America, https://fineartamerica.com/featured/summer-grasslands-kathryn-foster.html.

Vedantam, Shankar, host. “We’re All Gonna Die! How Fear of Death Drives Our Behavior.” Hidden Brain from NPR, 16 September 2019, https://www.npr.org/transcripts/760599683.

 

Qualms About My Demise

“Political Ecology of Death in the Anthropocene” is a fascinating title––oddly specific, yet broad enough to cover so many things. Signing up for this course, I was hooked.

My death is something that I contemplate quite often. It entails considering the possible ways that I want my body disposed of: I hate the idea of being eaten by worms, so burial and composting are out, and while I don’t enjoy imagining my body burning, at least my cremated ashes won’t be a direct meal for some creature. It entails thinking about my soul––will I have a next life, or will my “soul” and conscious just cease to exist in the universe? It also entails significant FOMO (fear of missing out), which is my ultimate motivator in life to do my best, please as many people as possible, see as many places as I can, and consume without need. To quote the NPR podcast We’re All Gonna Die!, “the fear of death haunts the human animal like nothing else.” I can certainly relate.

Now, only a week into this course, I’m realizing that there are many problematic implications with how I approach the fear of my death.

Using systems thinking, my death and following disposal is individual, in that it is important psychologically to me. It is also part of a larger system of the earth’s ecology. How then should I approach the subject of my body? Do I respect myself and get cremated to avoid the “ew” factor? Or do I respect the Earth, future generations, and climate action, and instead choose composting? The fact that I have a choice is part of the problem and demonstrates how our species is out of bounds. I am inclined to choose an option that hurts the environment, other humans, and the entire planetary system. To the question of “what kind of species will we be,” from Professor Litfin’s Becoming Planetary, it will someday be up to me decide in this one small, yet impactful decision and make the mature choice.

Considering terror management theory, it may be my fear of the unknown that drives my FOMO and qualms of the soul. Maybe if I were religious, I would not feel the need to travel so much or buy so many things because I could find comfort and security in a certain “after.”

I’m curious to see how this course’s content, discussions, and contemplative practices will continue to insight deeper understandings and challenge my views about death.

Image Source: Ken Lambert, The Seattle Times. Recompose, the first human-composting funeral home in the U.S. in Kent, WA.