When my grandmother was born, the old-growth forests were mostly intact. Half of life on Earth resided in the canopy of these majestic forests. Now they are mostly gone.
As the human population closes in on a six-fold increase since my grandmother’s birth, our species has become the new locusts. As millions of us become refugees in the procession of what Antoine de Saint-Exupery described as the caravan of doom, adventure has taken on new meaning. Along with dignity and fulfillment, it is found in ways entirely different from that of my grandmother’s time.
Yet, in terms of the human spirit, it remains a core need to be met in novel ways. It is in these novel ways that the future of life on Earth will unfold.
The mysteries of life will perhaps change as well, but maybe something essential and eternal will be preserved in our understanding as we endeavor to maintain dignity and find fulfillment in our new adventures. While lamenting the loss is inevitable, imagining beauty in chaos will likely challenge us to the core.
Signs of that challenge are everywhere. Rising to the challenge is an act of love.