Harvesting Hope: Earth Day & Every Day

Sometimes I get overwhelmed by the number of problems we face in our world today. I'm only going to talk about this for a minute, so bear with me. Then I'm going to talk about hope--because that's what's really important. But first, I have to admit to feeling overwhelmed. Because I know we all feel this way at times. From lead-tainted Chinese toys, to bisphenol A in our baby bottles; from mercury in our waters to radon in our air. A nationwide obesity epidemic. Natural and man-made disasters. The news is so often bad, and constantly coming at us.

As a doctor, a mother, a teacher and a writer, I'm often not quite sure what to do with these very real issues. I want to gather my family and hide under the bed.

Then I go back to the H-word. Hope. As I mentioned, I do believe that this is what 'it' is all about. As Randy Pausch said in his "Last Lecture" (if you haven't watched this, go to the Mike's Perpective blog entry): we can be Eeyores, or we can be Tiggers. We can hide under our beds, or we can live our lives the best we can, teaching our children to do the same. We can harvest hope.

If we harvest hope, we might just end up doing even more than we thought possible. Stranger things have happened. Sophie and I recently read the children's book Rachel: The Story of Rachel Carson. Rachel Carson is widely held to be the founder of the modern environmental movement. Rachel learned that pesticides were poisoning songbirds and other earth and water-living creatures, and decided to write a book called Silent Spring. Published in 1962,

When the book came out, the companies that made the poisons attacked her. And they attacked Rachel, too. She was only a woman, after all, emotional and unreliable.

Despite being maligned by many, Silent Spring caused the U.S. Government to take a closer look at the chemicals that were being sprayed on farmland. Eventually DDT and other related substances were banned in this country.

And this was less than half a century ago. Look how far we've come. Many more people are paying attention than ever before. Today we celebrate Earth Day, an environmentally-focused celebration that began a mere 38 years ago. Yes, we still have a lot of environmental issues to work on, but we're trying. According to Paul Hawken, author of Blessed Unrest, there are now upwards of 1.1 million grassroots organizations that are working to create hope for the earth and its inhabitants.

Some of the hope-creating organizations are right in our own backyards. In March, I discussed Our Daily Tread, a book we are writing to benefit the children of the Guatemalan dump served by Safe Passage. Safe Passage was founded by Hanley Denning, one of my Bowdoin College classmates. More recently, I mentioned our school system's plan to create a schoolyard garden, as a way to get fresh, safe, local food into the bodies of our children. This type of thing is happening all over the world. Don't believe me? Just visit Paul Hawken's WiserEarth website.

But we do not have to join organizations, build schoolyard gardens or write books to benefit Guatemalan schoolchildren. We do not have to take on the pesticide industry. We just have to care enough to bother to change our behavior, in whatever way we can manage. As author Michael Pollan suggests,

If you do bother, you will set an example for other people. If enough other people bother, each one influencing yet another in a chain reaction of behavioral change...consciousness will be raised, perhaps even changed.

And sometimes we have to do this, even if we're not sure that what we're doing is having an impact on anyone. I feel this way with my writing. And doctoring. And teaching. And parenting. All of these activities involve sending information out into the world, hoping that someone else will find the information useful in some way--but never being entirely sure if this is the case. Michael Pollan points out, "Sometimes you have to act as if acting will make a difference, even if you can't prove that it will." All of us have had this experience. Whether we write, doctor, teach, parent, or engage in other activities, many of us are simply acting on faith. 

Even writing this blog is an act of faith. I enjoy getting comments from others, on the blog or via email, because it means that someone is listening. Just last night, I spoke with my brother Jeff. He is finishing his second year of medical school in Texas, and is in the thick of studying for exams. Despite  this, he was very much on top of the blog happenings. He was amused by our brother Matthew's yogurt making proclivities, and wanted to know where all of the blog pictures came from (I'll talk more about this in a minute). He told me that he and his wife Emily (they were married a year ago last month--and glory be, she is a fellow book-lover and Capricorn!) read the blog regularly. He said that they've started to make changes based on what they've read. They've even begun recycling--no mean feat for people who live in a Houston apartment building. They are taking small steps. They are harvesting hope.

People running the Boston Marathon yesterday understood the need to take small steps. Sophie, Sarah and I watched them as they entered their final mile and a half, under the shadow of Fenway's famous Citgo sign. We missed the elite runners, but saw many of the mid-packers. Most were still running resolutely along. Some wore signs with their names on them; others wore names of the charities they had raised money for. Some were no longer able to run: they were shuffling, limping and even walking. But they knew that the end was near. Copley Plaza was right around the corner, and hope was in sight. So they kept on moving.

This is why I post pictures on the blog: to keep me moving. To remind me that there is something out there that is far bigger than I. Sometimes I post pictures of the river that flows through my town, and right next to my office. Sometimes I post pictures of the cove beside which my writing cottage sits. Today I will end this post with a picture of the ocean that embraces Wolfe's Neck Farm in Freeport.

I will also end this post with by suggesting that we all keep moving; keep harvesting hope. Let's do this for the rivers and the oceans. Let's do this for our children: for my sister Adelle's baby, who will join the family in November. Let's do this for our dear brothers (by the way Jeff, I forgot to say this last night, but I love you, too). Let's do this in celebration of Earth Day, and all the days that follow.

Because this is what we must do. Yes, we must. We may be overwhelmed by the vagaries and negativities of the world, but we cannot hide under the bed. 

We must keep on moving.

We must harvest hope.