Apocalypse Garden

It feels strange to heal in a traumatized world. I bubbled up to the surface expecting to catch up on what untraumatized people had been up to, but quickly realized that most people are still traumatized. It reminds me of days I spent aimlessly driving through suburbia, lost in miles upon miles of strip malls, searching for meaning somewhere along the asphalt. Millions of acres of indigenous land paved over with the cement of false promises.

I cry when watching videos about the mass extinction of non-human species, at a rate thousands of times more than before human impact. My grief is a vast emotional reservoir through which I can also access pleasure, in the same way death brings greater appreciation of life. I water my apocalypse garden as wildfires ravage forests around the world. The climate crisis will inevitably create suffering because we forgot we could simultaneously be both the perpetrator and the victim. Perhaps it is time to relinquish human supremacy culture as the most viable attitude is repentance.

“If you have come to help me, you are wasting your time. If you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.” -Lilla, Aboriginal Elder

Photos: tree filtering light, cockscomb, Cantonese borscht, garden fruit, corn and grapes, arboretum, tomatoes