I laid on the bottom of the ocean and stared into space.
The surface of the water was so still and flat that it ceased to exist. The light of the stars traveled unimpeded trillions of miles, through the Earth’s atmosphere and 20 feet of water.
I held my breath, the sound of my heartbeat joining the primordial hum of the Atlantic.
I pushed off the bottom. Underwater like in space one is weightless.
That night off the coast of Key West, I slowly kicked towards constellations, no difference between air and space. I swam into eons and lightyears, not an observer of the universe but part of it.
I stood in my…
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I went for a three-mile run down my Indiana country road yesterday on December 31st, 2018. It was 60-degrees. That’s not okay normal. It’s a terrifying new normal to which I still can’t adjust. Even though I knew the temperature, I still dressed for a December run.
I ran past a field of unharvested corn, each stalk broken or bent, sewed but not reaped.
I was hot and wished I had worn shorts…in December…in Indiana…while running outside.
The realities of our changing climate are no different than they were a few months ago, but humanity’s understanding of them has made the prognosis even more dire.
We’re now aware that the world is in worse shape than we thought it was.
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