The unprecedented ease with which we access information from across the globe exposes us to an ever-increasing range of issues that call for immediate action. Global warming, the refugee crisis, the fight against fracking, and many other worthy concerns pull us in a dozen directions at once. So we rapidly sign petitions, donate money, or hit ‘like’ on a Facebook post and move on to the next pressing concern, disregarding the complexities of the issue. In our rush to help, we ignore the fine threads of connection between seemingly disparate problems, the spaces of messy convergences and the nonlinear impacts of our actions.

In this way, for instance, we only see how solar farms can reduce greenhouse gas emissions, while overlooking the impacts of the mining and toxic waste products associated with their production. Our fast-paced lifestyle, reflected in the way in which news is commonly conveyed, compounds this problem. Everything is sensationalized and simplified to grab our attention and evoke an immediate emotional response. Even activists are increasingly resorting to shock tactics and glib headlines to garner support. As a result we are denied the opportunity to even begin to truly understand the extent of our global predicament and thus respond in a meaningful manner.

We can no longer afford to simply jump in and respond in a reactionary manner to the latest crisis. Such action is akin to slapping a band-aid on a cut, while the hand wielding the knife is actively delivering a dozen more cuts to the victim. What we need now is a deep, considered engagement that allows us to see the knife-wielding killer for what it is: that particular Cartesian conceptualization we have of ourselves as being separate, independent entities.

I was recently reading Aldo Leopold’s A Sand County Almanac, which was a sobering reminder that we have been on a path of self-destruction for a long time. Published in 1949, it reads like it was written for our present society, obsessed as it is with consumption, economic growth, and oblivious to the greater community of life to which we all belong. There are, of course, much earlier texts calling for the necessary re-engagement with our true self, that mysterious self that exists only through our entanglement with the entire cosmos. Consider the how of these mysteries: the magical combination of sunlight and chlorophyll in plants provides us with food; we rely on bacteria in our gut to help us digest this food and the unseen air provides us with life-sustaining oxygen. These are just a few examples of the way human beings, other animals, plants, and minerals are all part of an interdependent universe.

To fully recognize this interdependence we need to slow down. By slowing down in meditation we learn to observe ourselves and our connections with the universe. We also need to slow down to truly observe and learn the patterns of our local landscape: its seasons; the flow of water; and the marriage of plants, animals, geology, and climate that underpins a resilient, functioning ecosystem.

There will be no quick fixes or global masterplan that can bring us back in step with the rest of creation. Neither can we simply adapt another culture’s way of life. Instead, each of us will need to work with others in our local community to collectively spin a new story that allows us to re-integrate with the rest of creation. It is not possible to simply erase the industrial era or do away with capitalism overnight. Instead, we need to make good use of this rare opportunity we have to connect across the globe, sharing knowledge that can help us devise better ways of being.

There is also the sad reality that we have so badly abused the land we inhabit. In many places the waterways are too polluted to drink from and the land too degraded to support human life without substantial interventions. Additionally, our dense urban populations mean that we will need to continue some form of more intensive agriculture to support ourselves. Yet slowly we may see our societies moving towards a more holistic form of living that reintegrates itself back with local ecosystems. Concepts from permaculture and food forestry offer much promise for the future of farming and notions such as consensus-based governance provide examples of how we may create more just and inclusive societies. As we experiment with new ways of being, more locally appropriate concepts are sure to emerge. Here too the mantra of slowly, slowly is key. We need to allow time for things to organically evolve from the community level instead of globally imposing a one-size-fits-all solution.

There is nothing new in what I am proposing. Rather, it adds one more voice to the many lone voices already out there. Together though, we may slowly swell into a beautiful chorus that heralds the changes that are waiting to re-emerge.