Listening to birdsong reduces cortisol, slows your heart rate, and triggers parasympathetic calm. Why? Because for eons your ancestors knew that singing birds meant you were safe. Your body still remembers.

Everyone I know is overwhelmed. It feels bizarre to go on running errands and making weekend plans while simultaneously carrying the weight of today’s world. How are we supposed to be fully present in our own lives while also aware of rampant corruption, violent injustice, oligarchy’s ever tightening grip on power, the insanity of unregulated AI with its evil data centers, plus the horrifying loss of birds and forests and whales while weather intensity increases due to a climate we are pushing beyond tipping points?

A single day’s happenings from any of the last 10 years or so would, a generation ago, have been the top news for weeks. Likely months. Now whatever fractures our sense of humanity this morning will likely be compounded by some other horror later the same day.

Our grief, despair, fury, and sense of helplessness are entirely sane reactions to these times. Joanna Macy, who left our planet last year after a deeply loving lifetime, wrote in Coming Back to Life, “It is no longer appropriate to think only in terms of my nation or my country, let alone my village. If we are to overcome the problems we face, we need… a sense of universal responsibility rooted in love and kindness for our human brothers and sisters. In our present state of affairs, the very survival of humankind depends on people developing concern for the whole of humanity, not just their own community or nation.”

(I would add a sense of universal responsibility for all of us breathers— redwood trees, bats, lions, sap beetles, manatees, sunflowers, every living being.)  

I don’t have any remedies, but can share what helps me: Push against the disconnect that’s imposed on us. Hug whenever possible. Hang out with small children. Pay attention to your senses. Tend to something that grows – a plant, an idea, a relationship. Be creative in whatever way calls to you. Let yourself be playful. Believe in miracles of all sizes. Listen to the birds. And when you can, envision the future you hope to bring into being. Here’s what I envision.

ALL OUR DESCENDANTS

I see a dark-haired child grasp another’s arm to
watch bright blue/orange African pygmy kingfishers
whistle-sing in the branches.

See children roll down a grassy hillside
flecked with violet Karvi flowers, running back up
to roll again and again in spring’s warm welcome.

See children whisper thanks as they gather herbs and roots 
the way they learned from their elders, leaving enough 
to regrow as people have done from earliest times.

See children dive into pristine fjords,
climb into welcoming arms of ancient trees,
play under colorful quilts hung in the sunshine.

All of them as far as I can vision
are strong-limbed, well-nurtured, with the open
curious gaze of beings who know they belong.

These children are born 80 or so years beyond us.
I send love on ahead to them. They are who we march for,
vote for, sing for, change for, plant and pray for.

from my new book, Universe Marveled Into A Jar