“The data shapes what you conclude. But your experiences shape what you do. And what you do is so, so- important.” -Steward Pickett, 2019 Ecological Society of America Diversity Forum. • Thank you @ecologicalsociety for the opportunity to speak to others about my work. Being heard and validated by my fellow scientists fills my heart. Thank you for reminding me that my unique perspective is not only valuable, but an ecological imperative. •

Working in this field can be exhausting and painful. Sometimes I’m angry. It hurts to care so much about this planet while watching human greed threaten everything. I don’t know if I’m a person that believes we are all here for “something,” for some greater purpose. But if I am, it’s to fight for this planet. And while others burn the world with their anger, I vow to turn my anger and struggle into- seeds. The garbage and misery I went through is breaking down into the very soil I am tending. The stubbornness I was told to subdue lives as mycorrhizal fungi facilitating nourishment from soil that was once just pain. I don’t have to be strong or perfect. I will burst and cry and scream, and my tears will water the ground. I’m starting to see buds. I’m starting to see green. The world wants my growth in a tight box of labels, because it’s easy to control something that’s contained. But I promise to grow without fear. Unashamed. Vivid. Full. And like all good things, wild.

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Research piles into my ribs like stacked books,⁣
stories that tell me there is little time.⁣
The frogs need my attention,⁣
calling into the night.⁣
The salamanders peek out,⁣
we need you to tell them, they say.⁣
We need you to be brave.⁣ ⁣
But I don’t feel brave.⁣
I dream of a day we call it all off.⁣
The newspapers read,⁣
“THEY HAD IT ALL WRONG!”⁣
I’ll announce our mistakes⁣
before an angry crowd⁣
with a smile from ear to ear.⁣
The scientists were lying I’ll say.⁣
Fanatics⁣
Maniacs⁣
It was a political scheme,⁣
a conspiracy-⁣
a memo I’ve yet to receive.⁣ ⁣
I’ve shaken during exams,⁣
in real pain⁣
showing how perfectly I know⁣
how the earth is suffering.⁣
Graded on my understanding⁣
of a nightmare.⁣
Nausea finding my lips⁣
Screaming for an out⁣
A miscalculation⁣
Some fundamental misunderstanding⁣
Some control alt delete⁣ ⁣
When you argue with me⁣
what you don’t see is⁣
I hope that you’re right.⁣
I hope that you’re right.⁣
I hope that you’re right,⁣
And the species aren’t dying.⁣
The seas, they’re not rising,⁣
The ice is not melting.⁣
Our beloved animals not choking⁣
in our own⁣
convenient⁣
waste.⁣ ⁣
I hope that you’re right⁣
And it’s not worth it.⁣
It’s not worth it.⁣
It’s not worth it.⁣
The God of Money will save us.⁣ ⁣
I hope that you’re right,⁣
so your grandchildren don’t have to wonder⁣
why you screamed⁣
so sure, so sure.⁣
Why you didn’t listen⁣
to the very people⁣
your creator’s hands formed,⁣
to save his children⁣
from themselves.⁣ ⁣
I hope that you’re right.

Pipeline construction going through a friend’s backyard in my hometown. May 2019.

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Black and blue.

Fox Glacier, New Zealand. 2012.

Step by step our small group followed our guide through the valley. The mountains towered over us, at some points shooting up so stubbornly it was as if one day they decided to just stand up right out of the earth. Moss covered ancient stones. The air was wet and heavy. We eventually started to reach the ice, my heart bursting with joy, and began making our way up Fox Glacier. I can still hear my boots crunching on the ice underneath me. As we made our way up up up, the edges of the ice cut and curved around us.

The ice danced in the sunlight, black and blue. Once powerful enough to cut a valley out of those mountains.

Last night, a world away, I was in bed reading through my writings and reflections from my working holiday in New Zealand in 2012. I stumbled upon this quote from that day on Fox Glacier 7 years ago:

“It was a very scary thought as the guide told us how much the glacier has been shrinking. In two years, they have lost 40 meters of height. They showed us steps that they used to have to climb to get onto the glacier, only two years ago. Today, those steps are probably 100 feet above us and completely inaccessible. I felt privileged to be on such a geological phenomenon that may disappear within my lifetime.”

But the reality is, only 7 years later... 7 years later, Fox Glacier is now completely inaccessible by foot. The ice I was standing on is gone. Gone.

Reports say that in the last 8 years the glacier has receded half a mile (800 m). The ice has receded to the point that it is far too dangerous to allow people to even try. Only helicopters can reach the top. A century of adventurers climbing the glacier from the valley floor has ended. And New Zealand just had the second hottest March on record.

I realize everything is impermanent. Glaciers recede, they grow. But not like this. Never before like this. Never before because of us. Never before could we have stopped it and instead, looked away. But I can’t look away.

Do you know how heavy it is to watch places that changed your life disappear, only to be told it’s not happening?

I can only hope. No, actually, I can only work. But I’m hurting.

I’m black and blue. Powerful enough to cut a valley out of a mountain.

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It happens every now and again. A breath will fill my lungs, the world becomes clear, and I am in awe, struck with joy by the simplest of moments. A lone snowflake falling like glitter to the ground, the weight of my books in my backpack, the way the trees stand so tall, stubbornly waiting for spring. Sometimes I still can’t believe I’m actually here. I wasn’t supposed to be here, you know. I was supposed to stay at the comfortable cubicle job that everyone told me to be grateful for. To get married. To never leave. I was supposed to have that baby. I was supposed to be a drop out. This wasn’t supposed to happen, the scholarships, the travel, the exploration. This cold mountain air on my face, this peace in my heart, this body that has felt such joy. Sometimes I still can’t believe I’m here. That I am a student. That I am free. That I get to learn, and push, and write, and dance, and feel true, raw love. That I get to be a scientist, that I have the privilege of time. Because, man, I have felt fear. I have felt pain so hot I still find embers under my skin. Because I’ll be honest, that teenager I once was didn’t believe any of this could happen to someone like me. Or maybe the truth is, maybe the magic is, she always did.

Photo by Benjamin Dunn. Blue Ridge Parkway, North Carolina.

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