A lament for the Earth

Summary

The author expresses profound sorrow for the loss of Earth's natural beauty and biodiversity, while also holding onto hope for a sustainable future.

Abstract

The author recounts a recent flight over the stunning, wild landscapes of central Norway, which evoked a deep sadness for the scarcity of such untouched places. They mourn the human impact on the environment, including pollution, deforestation, and the introduction of invasive species, which have disrupted ecosystems and led to the extinction of many species, such as the Dodo, Moa, and Passenger Pigeon. Personal memories of a childhood landscape transformed into a sterile lawn symbolize the broader loss of natural habitats. Despite the profound sadness, the author remains hopeful, finding solace in human compassion and creativity, and believes in the potential for cities to embody a new kind of beauty and for humanity to achieve sustainability, albeit with urgency for the need to act before more is lost.

Opinions

The author deeply laments the diminishing number of wild, unspoiled landscapes due to human activities.
There is a sense of loss for the natural harmony and biodiversity that has been disrupted by invasive species and human interference.
The author feels a personal connection and sorrow for the extinct species that they will never have the chance to see.
The transformation of the author's childhood home's landscape from a rich, natural habitat to a manicured lawn is seen as a microcosm of broader environmental destruction.
Despite the sadness, the author is hopeful about human potential for compassion, creativity, and the eventual achievement of sustainability.
The author calls for immediate action to preserve what remains of the natural world and to find a sustainable path forward.

A lament for the Earth

Yesterday, I flew over a beautiful, wild landscape — the snow-capped ranges of central Norway. Barren rocky plateaus and melting icy lakes gave way to impossibly deep gorges filled with improbably blue water. It was breathtaking.

Yet today I am sad.

I am sad that so few wild places remain, where the untouched beauty can grab your heart and make you smile. I lament for all the landscapes that humans have diminished, polluted, deforested and concreted.

I wonder what my home looked like when bushland stretched as far as you could see. When ecosystems were in equilibrium, full of plants and animals that had evolved together in an intricate dance. Now species from afar dance to a different beat and the harmony is lost.

I am sad that I will never see the comical Dodo of Mauritius, the giant Moa of New Zealand or the flocks of Passenger Pigeons in their billions that once blocked out the North American sun. I am devastated that I will never catch a fleeting glimpse of a Thylacine through the trees of a Tasmanian forest. It pains me that I am 50,000 years too late to watch a giant wombat-like Diprotodon crash through the Australian bush.

In the front yard of the house where I grew up, we kept a stand of Bloodwood trees — a reminder of the landscape that existed before we came along. Under those trees lived a complex array of creatures that kept a boy like me fascinated for hours on end — ants, ant-lions, cicadas, spiders. Though just a fragment, it remained full of intricate life. That stand of trees is gone now. I went back, once, to the home I lived in for my first 17 years and saw that the trees had been cut down to make way for a sterile expanse of lawn. I wanted to cry.

Across the road from that house, stretching down to the Blue Mountains National Park, were rolling hills covered in bushland. Now, those hills are covered with homes. I used to walk through that bushland and look for shiny blue freshwater crayfish in the crystal clear creeks. No more.

I am sad that so much has been lost, that so many have suffered, that we just can’t seem to figure out how to live in harmony with this planet, and each other.

Most of all, I am sad that there is less to pass on to my children.

This sadness is real, deep and important to acknowledge. But it is not all that I am. I am also hopeful. I find beauty in acts of human compassion and creativity, in love and friendship. I believe we can grow cities that radiate their own complex beauty, though all fall far short of that ideal for now. I know that we will find a path to sustainability. I just wish it could be sooner, before more is lost.