To All My Relations
To All My Relations
“I can lose my hands, and still live. I can lose my legs and still live. I can lose my eyes and still live. I can lose my hair, eyebrows, nose, arms, and many other things and still live. But if I lose the air I die. If I lose the sun I die. If I lose the earth I die. If I lose the water I die. If I lose the plants and animals I die. All of these things are more a part of me, more essential to my every breath, than is my so-called body. What is my real body?” — Jack D. Forbes, Columbus and Other Cannibals (1978)
Have you ever allowed yourself to be awestruck by the miracle of your existence? The deeper we meditate on what allows “us” to live, the more we enter a space encompassing all that is. We’re overcome by boundless gratitude for everything that we have taken for granted so far. The Lakota saying mitakuye oyasin may be plainly translated to English as “to all my relations,” but really speaks to the interdependence and interbeing of all that lives, and to the fact that the world is this inconceivable web of symbiotic relationships from which each originates and to which each contributes, in their particular way. When we experience this continuum of life, a profound transformation occurs. A deep memory awakens us and activates our will for life—for life itself is sacred.
People of many different ideological camps, nationalities, and cultures converged in one spirit at Standing Rock because at the center of this struggle lay not only a “no” to the crimes of the fossil fuel industry and colonialism, but a shared reverence for this sacredness of life itself. Standing Rock evoked the possibility of a more sacred activism in the consciousness of humanity. To support this emergence, we at the Tamera Peace Research & Education Center in Portugal, invited activists from around the world to gather with us in 2017 and 2018. We felt that what began with the uprising of indigenous water protectors against the Dakota Access Pipeline could—and must—turn into a planetary movement. Tamera has researched the foundations of a possible post-capitalist society for over 40 years and works on building models for ecosystem restoration, regenerative autonomy, and, above all, for freeing love from fear and reconnecting society with the “sacred matrix” of life.

In Tamera’s Defend the Sacred Alliance gatherings, leaders of indigenous communities, social movements, and systemic alternatives come together and build a planetary community of trust, shared ethics, prayer, vision, and action to serve global system change. Our past gatherings involved aerial art actions to stop offshore oil drilling in Portugal—a tactical action that proved successful.
The next gathering of the “Defend the Sacred Alliance” will take place in August 2019. We invite you to join our upcoming conference, which will take place from 16–19 August!
A core question we’ve been contemplating is: What is a more “sacred” activism, and how can it be a genuine response to the worldwide destruction? With infighting in many groups, as well as widespread burnout and overwhelm, many who still dare to confront the global situation feel the painful limits of what they themselves can do to counter our disastrous collective development. At a time when radical systemic change has never been more urgent, activism itself is in an existential crisis.
At a recent meeting with activists occupying the Hambach Forest—the last remaining patch of a 12,000-year-old forest in Germany that’s been gradually eaten up by coal mining—a young leader of the movement told us, “Some protests here and there are no longer enough. Now is the moment to build a counter-system that can seriously challenge the current system and ultimately, replace it.”

The following three Alliance learnings have been essential in this regard:
Restoring ecosystems: Water is life—the basis of all thriving existence on Earth. By centralizing water management and subduing nature under the dictates of power and profit, capitalism has created a state of artificial scarcity and unleashed ecological disaster worldwide. The climate crisis and mass species extinction result not only from industrial greenhouse gas emissions, but from a mindset of separation from life that justifies the reckless destruction of ecosystems, water cycles, and indigenous people for the sake of short-term profit. Yet, if we turn this thinking around, we see that by honoring the Earth and restoring her vital organs (i.e., ecosystems and water cycles), we can reinvigorate her self-healing powers, helping her rebalance the climate, store massive amounts of carbon in the ground, and provide all beings with sufficient water and food.
Change of thinking: How we respond to the world depends on our worldview, narratives, and beliefs. For the last 200 years, most political activism in the Western world has—consciously or subconsciously—adopted a worldview of powerlessness, in which our consciousness was seen as subjective and fundamentally separate from an “objective” material world devoid of consciousness—an intelligent machine at best and an exploitable resource at worst. Following this thinking, we can develop magnificent technologies, campaigns, and strategies for changing the world, but sooner or later, we’ll collapse under the crushing burden of a global crisis to which our confined personal selves can’t ever measure up. Yet, in the despair and grief plaguing many of us today, we sometimes also experience a kind of transcendence, the birth pains of a different way of being: remembering that we exist in the embrace of an interdependent, living, sentient world that is as conscious as we are. Whether mass movements continue to see the world as a machine to be fixed by regulating carbon inputs and outputs or whether they open to a holistic worldview that acknowledges the Earth as alive will be fundamental to our prospects of survival.
Healing collective trauma: We can only bring as much healing to the world as we have achieved within and among ourselves. In our 2017 manifesto, we write:
“Though it is difficult to see, there is an emerging and different vision for humanity. This vision foresees a world without violence as the next chapter of our collective evolution. It shows a future humanity inhabiting this planet as a network of interconnected, autonomous communities of trust. This vision is clear. Yet standing between us and its realization we see a veil of collective trauma woven from millennia of unimaginable cruelty. This trauma has written our unconscious, automatic programming and will perpetuate itself in continued violence and separation until it is consciously addressed and healed.”
As this trauma isn’t only personal, but collective, personal therapy alone won’t suffice to achieve healing. That is why we collaborate on restoring community—both local and planetary—as an essential organ of humanity in which trauma can heal. Trust is the power that heals our wounds.

Our recent book Defend the Sacred: If Life Wins There Will Be No Losers (Grace Foundation, ed.) contains contributions from around 30 members of the Alliance on key areas of our collaboration, such as a “world beyond fossil fuels,” the “feminine revolution,” “new economics,” and the aforementioned fields. We invite you and activists from around the world to participate in our upcoming conference on resistance and regenerating the community of life (Tamera, Portugal, August 16–19, 2019), and join this work.

About Martin Winiecki
Martin Winiecki is a co-worker at the Tamera Peace Research & Education Center in Portugal, networker, writer, and activist. Born in Dresden, Germany in 1990, he’s been politically engaged since his early youth.
Captives of Our Desire
Captives of Our Desire
Editor’s note | Our idealized, nostalgic image of farm life has been expressed in Hellenistic paintings, the Renaissance and through the centuries until today. We still apply a ‘pastoral ideal’ to the food we eat. These romanticized portraits of farm animals challenge us to confront each animal eye-to-eye. First, to recognize the beauty of the individual, then to consider this encounter in the context of the anonymous cruelty of factory farming, and finally to consider our relationship to animals as ‘meat, dairy, and eggs’.
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Finding beauty where none is immediately apparent and value in banality, photographic artist Cally Whitham’s camera collects images of ordinary things we no longer see.

Perceiving, altering and reflecting through nostalgia and memory, she is a pictorialist at heart, layering her photographs with emotion, transmuting the ordinary into the romantic, nostalgic and surreal.
Presenting unpromising subjects in an ideal way, she asks the viewer to look more closely at the forgotten or taken-for-granted, to reawaken the value these subjects once held.
New Zealand born, Cally Whitham is interested in exotic, endemic and introduced kinds of things. She recalls, with perhaps romantic notions, how they were once perceived. Working in the rural margins, she seeks to capture those things that have become more significant in the memory than in the seeing, and invites viewers to reflect on their rural ancestry.

Driven by the desire to preserve forever the memory of her surroundings, aged 11 she used her first roll of film at Christmas to capture favorite things, her aunt’s farm, an old house she wanted to live in and a big tree at the beach.
Touched with beauty, her works explore, through ordinariness and familiarity, the ways in which personal milieus are recorded, returning to subjects recaptured in shadows of times past, and seeking the subtle, forgotten and overlooked.

About Cally Whitham
Taking an idealistic view of the world, Cally Whitham records the ordinary, transforming it into a surreal image, reflecting the way things are perceived and altered through nostalgia and memory. Driven by a desire to remember, Whitham uses her camera to collect images, which allows her to preserve her surroundings forever.
Sacred Headwaters of the Amazon
Sacred Headwaters of the Amazon
Kosmos | When you talk of Awakening the Dreamer, what does our collective ‘dream’ say about our modern habits and addictions? And what are the historic seeds of our delusion?
Bill Twist | There are several answers to that question. Ego, separation, a dream of individualism. We see ourselves as separate players, independent players in life. That’s a fantasy we have created and been born into and live in. Through our work at Pachamama Alliance, we have had the privilege of working with indigenous people in the Amazon. And they don’t see the world as made up of separate, independent players. It’s confusing for us at times, seeing how they make decisions and how they work. It challenges our own understanding of the world.
However, when you have a chance to go deeper with the indigenous people we work with, you get their sense of the connection of all life, of all beings—beings that are in the rocks, the rivers, the trees, and all around. And I think that’s what modern humanity is beginning to understand. There have always been a few people—visionaries or mystics—who have known that, but it’s becoming more general knowledge now. That’s what the work of Awakening the Dreamer (an educational program at Pachamama Alliance that explores challenges and opportunities currently facing humanity) has been. It’s awaking people from a trance of individualism and separateness, to seeing that we’re actually all deeply connected and integrally a part of some great process, some great guiding wisdom.
Belén Páez | The ‘dream’ is a complete disconnection from nature, and it’s sad in a country like Ecuador with important biodiversity in many different areas: the highlands, the coasts, the Amazon region. For 40 years, delusion led us to base all our economic solutions on oil extraction without taking into account the pollution and the destruction, not just of the ecosystems, but also humans—indigenous peoples. We have already lost several indigenous tribes that used to live in the forest.
So we have become more and more detached from our biodiversity and from the wisdom heritage of our indigenous peoples.

Kosmos | I think it was about 10 years ago that Ecuador was the first to pass a Rights of Nature policy?
Bill Twist | It’s built into the constitution of the country, the only country on earth that has that. Other countries have adopted laws pertaining to Rights of Nature, but have not formally added it to their constitution.
Kosmos | So, has that been a tool that’s been helpful?
Bill Twist | That was a bold and innovative move by the country of Ecuador to build into their constitution, into the governing structure for the whole country, that nature has an inherent right to exist and flourish. It was monumental that it went in, but slow in its implementation. One of the very first places where that constitutional provision got tested was with a proposed huge mining project. It was probably the wrong place to first test it because the government saw it as a threat to its national development plans. Although the mining project would obviously be a violation of nature’s rights, the government basically chose to set aside that provision of the constitution as not, in that case, being in the national interest.
But there’s a huge amount of work that has been done now over the last eight or nine years in Ecuador to build Rights of Nature cases from the ground up, and start building a structure of jurisprudence. Every time there’s a chance to bring a case on behalf of nature, it shifts consciousness. There’s been steady progress in Ecuador around the issue of Rights of Nature. There are many more lawyers now who understand how to bring cases; and people in their communities understand that it is possible be an advocate for nature. It hasn’t stopped oil development or mining, but I think it will be a significant policy tool for the future.
Belén Páez | During the last 10 years, we have had more than 17 Rights of Nature cases in Ecuador regarding ecosystems close to the sea, to some rivers and mountains, and even endangered species. The courts ruled in favor in only three of these cases, meaning that we are still facing a lot of judges and people in the courts who don’t understand very clearly yet what Rights of Nature are.
So, as Bill was saying, there is a path and we have a tool that we are promoting to engage more and more people at the national and regional levels. Ecuador is leading the region, and the whole Amazon Basin, in this regard. This is acknowledged by the United Nations and the international community, and there are now hundreds of members under the Global Alliance for the Rights of Nature. It is becoming a powerful community of citizens engaged in ethical tribunals to defend the rights of Mother Earth everywhere.
Kosmos | How aware are the indigenous people of Ecuador and Peru of the loss of species worldwide?
Bill Twist | The area where we work, which has been called The Sacred Headwaters of the Amazon, is the most biodiverse area of the Amazon Basin. It’s still very resilient—there has been minimal human encroachment—but the indigenous people are aware of what’s going on in other parts of the world. And they know that if industrial-level extractivism moves into their territory, they will face species extinction and degradation of their territory’s natural ability to support life just as has happened in so many parts of the world. They are fiercely committed that that doesn’t happen in the area of the Sacred Headwaters.
Belén Páez | I think that it is clear we are facing the Sixth Mass Extinction on Earth, and that’s affecting every ecosystem on the planet. There are deep studies in Ecuador about how biodiversity is threatened in the Galapagos, in the Andes region, and in the Amazon. There is a critical relationship between the Andes and the Amazon. Certain fish are not migrating anymore, vegetables and plants are changing. Many indigenous people are letting us know that things are changing in the forest.
For example: One friend has been taking pictures every month of caterpillars in different stages and he has been able to show that the larvae are not becoming butterflies at the end. The Achuar people say that even our thoughts and our brains are facing these changes, and that it is very important to protect the sacred places that remain on Earth—these places of ‘nature intelligence’ that could be expanded to the next generations if we are able to protect them.
Kosmos | Different tribal peoples likely have different ideas about what to do next. Is there some consensus about what needs to be done and what direction to move in?
Bill Twist | For years, the various indigenous nationalities of this region, in addition to defending their territory, have been developing a vision for the future of their territory. This work has pretty much been done independently by the various groups.
We are now supporting all of the indigenous nations to come together to forge a common vision for their area, the Amazon Sacred Headwaters—nearly 60 million acres and 18 nationalities. The task they are working on is to build a common “life plan”—an indigenous inspired development plan—for this region. They all know that each of them working individually is not going to be anywhere near as powerful, or as effective, or as important for the world, as all of them coming together and working on behalf of a common vision.
What is particularly inspiring about this initiative is that the indigenous groups, although clearly working to protect their territories, also see that this project is for the world and that it is setting a conservation example for the world.
Belén Páez | And this is different from what was happening 10 years ago or even five years ago. The governments were still able to divide the organizations through money, through false promises about what is ‘good development,’ and offers of housing or relief. All these political promises have a way of dividing the wisdom.
But nowadays, through the Sacred Headwaters Initiatives, there is a clear result—different indigenous nations and nationalities between Ecuador and Peru have been coming together. First, they tell the country and the region that the Amazon is one of the most important forests and ecosystems for the world; second, they really are visionaries, ancestral people with a lot of wisdom, telling humanity what to do to confront climate change; and third, they are resisting. I mean they are resisting to protect life, to protect their territories, to protect their collective rights. They have shown during the last year—and they will be showing us during the next years or decades—that they are going to give their lives and not allow any oil and mining and monoculture industry inside of their sacred lands and territories. Because they truly believe that at this moment of life, they need to give their own lives to protect this part of the planet for the future generations.
Kosmos | I’d like to shift now a little bit from talking about outward things to experiences of inner transformation—beginning with your own. What has transformed in you, doing this work?
Bill Twist | Getting a sense of connection to the Earth and being a part of the web of nature. That’s an understanding that is available to people anywhere, but it’s particularly dense in the communications that are going on in the Amazon forest—there’s so much life and so much information being exchanged. Being in the middle of that, you do get a sense that you’re embedded inside something that’s aware, that responds. It’s not like nature’s out there and you’re here. You’re in the middle of it, you’re part of it. Experiencing that is a great gift.
Belén Páez | During the last Ice Age, the Amazon region was not covered by ice. What happened in the Amazon is that a lot of intelligence of life itself—plants and animals—was able to maintain its evolution. Every time that I have been in the Amazon, I could feel that. I felt in my body, in my mind, the truth of that. Everything happening, maybe thousands of years ago, is still coming through the earth and the air that I was breathing. I found that I was connected with not just the surrounding time, but with all times.
Kosmos | Wonderful. How beautiful to be connected to that prana, the living energy of the planet. And when you bring people on these journeys to the Amazon, this is the transformational experience they have too?
Bill Twist | It’s almost universal that the people who come to the Amazon and spend a week in the forest with indigenous people—participate with them in their daily life, doing ceremonies, hiking through the forest—are fundamentally altered by it. You almost can’t help it. I think it’s something you don’t forget, like riding a bike. You can activate it again by going out into nature almost anywhere. But trips to the Amazon make a huge difference.

Kosmos | And do you feel people can still live in a state of pure connection to the Earth? Or do you feel that we’re losing it by the very fact that we’re encroaching upon it?
Bill Twist | It clearly still exists. There are people in the headwaters region who still live voluntarily in isolation from the outside world. And, at the same time, in many of the communities where we work, civilization is much closer. People can leave and go to the town to try to earn money. And, of course, there are examples of people losing their connection to the culture. But still, in all the communities, there’s this deep, deep sense of connection to the natural world.
Just a quick story: I was in the rainforest just recently with a group of visitors. They were going to do a ceremony in a community that night and they had prepared well. They’d fasted, visited a sacred waterfall, done a tobacco ceremony, sat in silence in the forest and meditated, and were back in the community sitting in the dark in preparation to meet with the shaman. About this time, a jaguar was spotted on the periphery of the area where the ceremony would take place. It was almost casually observing and it was astounding how close it was to so much activity. For the Achuar, it all made sense. The jaguar is a powerful carrier of Arutam, the highest and most potent spirit of the forest. The jaguar had sensed the energy generated by the extensive and pure preparations for the ceremony. In right reciprocity, it brought its power to the participants.
Belén Páez | What I see is that they are still really connected with the spiritual world for healing purposes and to understand what is going on in their lives, to hear the advice of their family or their community. Youth are coming back to listen to their grandparents or to their parents, and in order to interpret their dreams. They are really into dreams and spiritual life.
Kosmos | Yes the spirit world must feel very close there. I haven’t been, but a friend of mine, who accompanied you, came back transformed. He had never experienced the ‘spirit world’ directly before. And I’m wondering … this is a mystical kind of a question, but do you feel that the spirit world is working to help guide us through this very difficult time humanity is facing? Do you feel the spirits are with us, or in fact, that they are us?
Bill Twist | I think there’s something that is guiding us; there’s something that’s reacting, that is trying to wake us up. There’s something that’s responding to the assault that’s been going on against our living Earth.
My sense is that Mother Earth, Pachamama, is trying to figure it out and is getting more skillful at reaching out—and thankfully we’re starting to do a better job of listening—to get us humans off our butts and into action to honor and protect her. It is a kind of immune system that’s activating, and we’re a part of it. The human species is a critical, important part of shaping and being responsible for the immune response that is being called for.
Kosmos | Do human beings have a purpose on Earth?
Bill Twist | Yes, I think we are here for something. We have amazing powers. Because of our toolmaking ability and our ability to coordinate and collaborate, we’ve left scars and damage and destruction on the Earth, yet those same powers are now so strong that they can be used to steer the process of evolution on Earth. ‘Steer it toward what?’ is a great question to live in.
Belén Páez | At the beginning of the Earth, a great spinning of matter was required for fusion to occur. This great spinning is the power behind creation and all the cycles on Earth, all this circle of Life going around and around. We already have many answers to solve the problems that we are confronted with now, and we will be able to do something creatively that will allow us to stay longer on this beautiful planet. We are not just something separate in the Universe. We are part of this huge turning creativity, which is Life within us. That’s why we are given opportunities to keep going.
Kosmos | Wonderful. Thank you both so much.

About Belén Paez
Belén Paez has been the President and Director of Fundación Pachamama, a nonprofit organization founded in Ecuador 1996 to protect the rainforest and advance the rights and livelihoods of indigenous peoples of the Amazon. Belen directs the implementation of women’s maternal health programs, clean energy, community ecotourism, and legal programs to defend collective rights and the rights of Nature. Belen is serving as the secretariat responsible for strategy implementation for the Amazon Sacred Headwaters Initiative aimed at protecting this vast biodiverse region on the Ecuador-Peru border in the headwaters of the Amazon River.

About Bill Twist
Bill is one of the co-founders of Pachamama Alliance and serves as its chief executive officer.
“I am generally referred to as a founder of Pachamama Alliance but more truthfully I am the beneficiary of a process that “founded” me. Since its inception in 1996, Pachamama Alliance has provided a rich and constantly expanding environment for my personal education about the world at large and has provided a powerful opportunity to live a life of service and contribution. It has been a gift.”
Sam Lee | Birdsong Hits the Charts
Sam Lee | Birdsong Hits the Charts
Sam Lee is a British singer of traditional folk songs, a collector, an archivist, a conservationist, and a radical re-interpreter of the British folk tradition. He is the driving force behind the eclectic, award-winning folk club The Nest Collective, which has brought traditional music to all kinds of unusual stages and venues. Sam is also the founder of a burgeoning song collectors’ movement that inspires a new generation of performers to draw on living source singers rather than books and records. In 2012, he was a Mercury Prize nominee for his debut album, Ground Of Its Own. Since then, he has taken his music worldwide to more than 20 countries and reached an even larger audience with his BBC Radio 4 performance, on May 19, 2014, of The Tan Yard Side to the accompaniment of a nightingale. This remarkable recording marked the 90th anniversary of the very first BBC outside broadcast by cellist Beatrice Harrison (accompanied by nightingales) on May 19, 1924. Sam’s newest album, The Fade in Time, is impassioned and hugely ambitious in scope. Recently, he was a key player in some of Extinction Rebellion’s most noteworthy events and happenings. He is also choir director for Fire Choir, a political song choir that performs songs about social justice and uprising.
We are extremely grateful to Sam for taking time out from choir practice to answer some questions for Kosmos. (Kari Auerbach | Music Editor, Kosmos)
Lovely Molly
Kari Auerbach | I have a quote of yours: “We are nature and we need nature as much as it needs us, these songs of and about the land are declarations of our dependency on Earth.” I’m wondering how this quote ties in with our theme, which is the Lakota phrase, “Mitakuye Oyasin” which means “all my relations”—our relationships with plants, nature, animals, birds, each other.
Sam Lee | I love that Lakota phrase so much, and it’s one I hear used a lot in this country within ceremony. It’s one that, in many ways, encapsulates everything that I am saying and believing, but because we don’t have the Lakota equivalent, my entire practice is about trying to say that, those words, in any way I can, that gets that message through.
Kari | In song, in practice, the way you live your life, the way you deal with the world around you… right?
Sam | I see it exemplified in Navajo. I’ve made a documentary about the Navajo people for the BBC, so I’ve spent a lot of time with Navajo. You name the community—South American First Indigenous Amerindian—all over, their songs say exactly that. We are all related in one way or another. Their prayers are their songs, their songs are their prayers. We’re in a situation where we’re losing everything about our identity. Our nature is such a part of our identity, so here is a musical form, which, at its heart, is speaking about an identity through the landscape and through the love of it. Although it’s all there in my old music, the eruption hadn’t really happened yet, the Extinction Rebellion hadn’t happened, the climate emergency hadn’t really been such a unified voice across the world. It suddenly all came up in the album I’m going to release this October, which I’ve spent a couple of years making. It’s all about taking these songs and reforging the sacredness within them, to say, these are our declarations of our love for the land and each other, and that implicit relationship of how we are dependent on it, not just on it for food, but for keeping us human, too. We have an absolute need for this right now because we’re in a climate emergency. Here in the UK, we are one of the most nature-depleted countries in the whole of the world, devastated by species and habitat loss at an unprecedented rate, due to monocultural aggressive agriculture.
Kari | Why are we losing so much treasure?
Sam | It’s all through loss of habitat and culture. Once upon a time, we had millions of songs. Many of them were the same song, but they all were sung in different ways. The habitat is the environment in which that is propagated, developed, shared, and allowed to be expressed. You see it within species diversity and taxonomy—branches of animals that look a lot like each other, or come from the same family, but actually have very different roles in their ecosystem, how they behave, what their services are. So it is for songs, too. Songs existed in different families, holding a different potency, moral, and idea behind them. They’ve all disappeared, been forgotten; people have died and taken them with them. They haven’t been passed on and those genetic lines have ended. It comes down to the fact that nobody wants to listen to the old songs anymore. Those that do only want to listen to the old songs in the old way, a much more limited repertoire; there isn’t the same allowance for evolution to happen. When you see the models of languages lost—they say we lose a language every two weeks! That decline, around the world, is happening at such a similar curve as species loss, and that graph is charted at the same angle.

The Nest Collective banner reads: In halls, on stages / In field and forest / Through concerts and campfires / Ceilidhs and choirs / We bring people together / To share in music / New and old / From around the world / The sound of community.
Kari | I wanted to ask about the outdoor concerts that you do with the nightingales; I didn’t realize that you’ve been doing those for four or five years now. Can you talk a bit about how you came to do that? Beatrice Harrison’s recordings were kind of an early influencer; you can talk about her or some of the other factors that led you to do that type of really unique gig.
Sam | Well, it all comes from before I was a singer. I trained in wilderness work, bushcraft, nature studies, and of rewilding people to nature. That’s always been my first passion and great love. For years, I’ve been listening to nightingales sing; I would go hear them in springtime when they arrive back to do their mid-April and end of May courtship song, which is so famous. It’s been a pilgrimage that I make, on my own or with friends, in England and sometimes in central Europe as well where nightingales are more prolific. I’ve always known about Beatrice Harrison and her recordings, but what I noticed was the 90th anniversary coming up! That first recording she did was in 1924. I casually wrote an email to the BBC, saying, “You’ve got quite an important anniversary, I don’t know if you’re doing anything about it or acknowledging it, but I know a few folk songs about nightingales, maybe I could do something.” I expected nothing to happen. Within 48 hours, a documentary was commissioned, which is record breaking! This is like a month or less before the anniversary; there wasn’t a year or more to go through commissioning rounds of the bureaucratic leviathan that is the BBC.
Kari | The wheels turned a little faster than normal for that one.
Sam | Absolutely! Suddenly, I found myself in the forest with a radio producer who I knew, Julien May. What a lovely man, great documentary-maker. And I’ve brought a couple of musicians with me that play in my band, to play the song, The Tan Yard Side, which has a nightingale in it. It’s a song that connects the human and the nightingale in a very beautiful and, in some sense, tragic way, which is a longer story for another time. We start playing and suddenly the bird starts singing with us. He doesn’t shut up and fly off as I expected, but he starts singing in time and coming into the rhythm and adapting his song in recognition of us. This is blowing my mind. We’re 10 feet away from this bird, and he’s singing so loud that my ears are throbbing, the waveform patterns just pulsing, and you can feel it through your body, everything is vibrating when he hits these certain notes. It’s like being inside a lion’s mouth when it roars.
Kari | Yes! When they hit those really low notes, even in recordings, it vibrates your body, like throat singers. It’s amazing.
Sam |Yes, that harmonic throating, that’s how I start singing with a nightingale now. I do the overtones, and the nightingales lock in with that. They love that pure tone of the harmonic. I thought, “Wait a minute, this is magic, I’m going to bring people to hear this, I’m going to do little concerts!” I invited people to the forest and slowly developed an understanding of what that ritual is. It’s about immersing people in nature in a way they don’t ever do. People go for walks in nature, they cycle, but they don’t get to take in the core practices of nature—the immersion, silence, slowness, lots of deep listening. And so I use the evening as a sort of journey. It starts at 7:00 pm, but we don’t go to the nightingales until about 11:00 pm. First, there’s this whole time of stories around the fire, and getting people to settle into the springtime forest. It’s always beautiful, everything’s alive, and birds are singing like crazy—the evening chorus. We go into the dark, we don’t use artificial light—flashlights are forbidden—just the firelight. When we come to the nightingales, which is about half an hour’s walk from the campfire, we’ve walked single file through the forest and it’s a meditation. We hear the nightingales in the distance and it gets closer and louder. Suddenly, we’re sitting all gathered underneath this bird and people start crying and some even go into trances. It’s medicine.
Kari | I love that the beacon is the sound not a light; you’ve got this sonic beacon.
Sam | Yes. That’s exactly the term I use. There’s a story I tell that I love: In times gone past when nightingales were everywhere, young lovers would clandestinely meet up and the way they arranged to meet up after dark without lights was to use the nightingale as a sonic beacon in the thicket a couple of fields away. That’s how they knew where to meet!
Kari | What setbacks or challenges have you faced in these interspecies collaborations/campfire gigs, since you started going out and communing with the nightingales? How have things changed?
Sam | You know, it’s really funny, even when the nightingales don’t sing, which happens two or three times a season, for one reason or another… they’re not up that night, or they won’t start until much later, that’s not an issue. The issue for me is the music, and it’s about the personality of the musician who (hopefully) can release themselves to the bird. I sometimes have nights where I struggle in staying present. When the conditions come together, it’s extraordinary what happens—that sense of magic and wonder in the air and the spectacle that’s happening. For me it’s about letting go of expectations and that’s really hard.
Kari | I wanted to talk about Let Nature Sing, the single you co-produced with the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB), that beautiful two minutes and twenty-nine seconds of wild birdsong…groundbreaking, first of its kind ever to get into the Top 20 on the radio. It made it to Number 11! How did that collaboration come about?
Let Nature Sing (RSPB, co-produced by Sam Lee)
Sam | The RSPB is 130 years old, and has 1.2 million members. Every decision on the whole project had to go through about six different committees, and, luckily, the person who is really the pioneer of that birdsong, Adrian Thomas, had come on the Nightingale Project to see the nightingales the year before last. The hard work of making the various recordings was done by Adrian. It only took two and a half or three hours to make. For me, the really fascinating and exciting bit was getting people aware of it because suddenly here was a very simple, powerful concept. We’re going to do something radical, we’re going to get nature to Number 1 (or close) in the British pop charts. It happened at the same time as Extinction Rebellion. On the fifteenth of April, when the Rebellion started, environmentalism went from naught to 60 in less than two weeks. There was this phenomenal shift in our entire society that none of us ever dreamed would happen, and the single, Let Nature Sing, came out right in the middle of that, as something that was a playful, soft, musical bit of romance. It’s whimsy, but at the heart of it, is a really simple message that birds are the canaries of the mine. The population of birds has dropped since 1966 by 40 million. We are about to lose many of our birds; many species are set to go extinct in the next 25 years. We’ve got to wake up!
Kari | You were talking about something I really wanted to get at, which is Extinction Rebellion. How did you come to work with that movement? Was it through the bird single, Let Nature Sing?
Sam | No, they started in September of last year. Lots of friends of mine are involved, and I’d been getting their emails and watching it develop on social media as a sort of coming together of an idea—a name, a brand, a visual look that is cool and unlike previous environmental campaigns, which I’ve been long supportive of. I went to their first declaration at Parliament Square. George Monbiot, the great British writer, was there with Caroline Lucas, the Green Party MP, plus about 800 of us. I had my daughter who was only 6 months old with me, and we just sat down in front of Parliament and said, “No, we’re not moving.” That was the beginning, and I felt a really fresh energy about it. They had a plan, they had a vision, they had a forward thinking process of direct action—nonviolent, but direct, action. The next happening was already planned, and someone said, “Sam will you come and sing at it?” I sang one of the songs that I had just recorded for the new album, which is a sort of hymn to the world in some ways. I sang it as they started to dig the grave in Parliament Square, for the coffin that represents our children’s future. I sang this hymn, this lament, and then finished, stepped down, and the police surged in. Ironically, the police were trying to protect the land from being dug up. I knew at that point that this movement was going somewhere. I got involved and it just kind of grew from there. We had a wonderful moment during it when the word got out that you’d taken over Brooklyn Bridge.
Kari | YES!
Sam | It filled our hearts with joy, seeing that New York has been taken as well.
Sam Lee with the City of London Sinfonia
Live performance of The Tan Yard Side—Sam Lee and Friends
Kari | I did want to talk to you about a really great event you organized with Extinction Rebellion—the Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square event and the ensuing rewilding of Mayfair in London. Since you were at the epicenter of that—the idea man, speaker, and singer—I’d like you to take us to that day, because that was such a great event.
Sam | It’s an idea that I’ve had for years and years, and every year, I’ve been in touch with the council in Westminster and each time, they’ve said, “ It’s 15,000 pounds per hour to rent the square.” I’d just spent two weeks with Extinction Rebellion taking over London. I thought, “Hold on a moment, we can finally do it! We’ll just GO into Berkeley Square!” I put the idea to Extinction Rebellion and it obviously fit perfectly. The rebellion was supposed to be two weeks but they didn’t really have a closing event. We worked together to devise the event so that it was playful and didn’t have any political speeches to it. It was all about the love of nature, but also about extinction itself because at the heart of it, that was so important. In many ways the animals, the birds, the invertebrates, the plants and trees were not being mentioned enough. It was a time for us to pay some attention to the things we were trying to save, so we did a requiem for extinct species and I reworded the song, A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square. There was an open call to any musicians who wanted to come, and everyone played a nightingale recording out of their mobile phone from a link on our website. We got people to go off into clusters, and musicians would move from cluster to cluster like bumble bees pollinating flowers—go and play a song, move on to the next one, read a poem, sing a song, whatever. Suddenly Berkeley Square was filled with 1500 people and about 100 musicians, all just singing and playing with the nightingale blasting out like a rainforest. It was so surreal.
Photos by Hugh Warwick | Hugh is a photographer, author, ecologist, podcaster, and educator with a particular fondness for hedgehogs.
Kari | What a day! I really wish I had been to that event. I also am curious about The Nest Collective. You formed that group a long time ago, and it’s dedicated to folk music in unusual spaces. Of course, the Extinction Rebellion Berkeley Square event really fit in with that ideology. Can you tell me a little bit about The Nest Collective group? Does it have revolving members? Do people join? What kind of group is it? Do you only do folk? And what sort of unusual spaces have you had gigs in?
Sam | So, the Nest Collective is a collective in many ways, and in many ways it isn’t. I’m the artistic director and founder, and I’ve been running it essentially for 13 years. I have a team of about seven of us now, and it’s a not-for-profit. The collective aspect of it works in terms of a collective of musicians who are involved—there’s no official affiliation—and I also bring in a lot of other artistic voices to decide on, and inform, the way things happen. On Saturday, we had our twice annual festival. We took over a seventeenth century palace on the banks of the River Thames next to Greenwich—the master shipwright’s palace where the whole British naval fleet was designed and built. It’s a very historic house, and every year they let us take over the grounds with amplified music. Every Friday, from May ’til September, the Nest Collective has the Campfire Club, which is all in green spaces, unamplified, around the fire in green sanctuaries.
Kari | Like the nightingale gigs without the nightingales.
Sam | Exactly like that except in the middle of the city. They are ways of getting people outdoors, the intimacy of being around a fire and also unusual venues—a lot of old churches plus some regular music venues. Our music is a whole range of traditional music, folk music, international world music, acoustic, stuff that we feel is coming from a tradition and a legacy. We invite the audience to experience music in a more communal fashion.
Kari | With the oral tradition woven in, conserving cultural representation and heritage…I wanted to ask before you go, did David Rothenburg ever come sing with the nightingales?
Sam | Yes, lots and lots, he’s been there for quite a few years.
Kari | He sent us a short written piece, an update from Berlin about his many nightingale projects and I thought, “There’s no way those two don’t know each other.”
Sam | He’s doing amazing work, so I’m glad you’re profiling him!
We said our goodbyes since Sam had to rest up for a Fire Choir gig the following day. His choir would be singing songs of rebellion and political protest in Parliament Square outside the Houses of Parliament in London to mark Trump’s visit to the UK.
Goodbye My Darling
Footage of the assembly in the Square and most of Sam’s performance at the Berkeley Sq event.
And check out another great artist who collaborates with nightingales. Musician and philosopher David Rothenberg wrote Why Birds Sing, Bug Music, Survival of the Beautiful and many other books, published in at least eleven languages. Read his essay in this edition of Kosmos Quarterly.

About Sam Lee
As an artist Sam traverses many worlds, challenging and pioneering folk music in diverse places and ways. Not just an award-winning singer with two highly decorated albums to his name and a sound incomparable to his contemporaries’; his work fostering live music in the UK has been instrumental in the explosion of folk of the last decade. Sam reinvents not just the way these ancient songs should sound but how they can be sourced, exist and thrive, from conscientiously gathering them in Gypsy Traveler camps to singing them for the Hollywood big screen.
Sam’s debut album, ‘Ground of its Own’ was conceived after winning the prestigious Arts Foundation Prize in 2011 and nominated for the 2012 Mercury Music Prize. His second album, ‘The Fade in Time’ (2015) has been equally feted. At the BBC Radio 2 Folk Awards 2016, Sam was presented with ‘Best Traditional Song’ for his version of the song ‘Lovely Molly’. During the ceremony, he performed the song live, backed by the 40-piece Roundhouse Choir, in front of a sold-out show at the Royal Albert Hall, London.

About Kari Auerbach
Kari Auerbach is Music Editor at Kosmos Quarterly. She grew up all over the world learning about music and working as a jewelry designer. Currently living in New York City, she is social media director for several recording artists and a jewelry instructor for the New York Institute of Art and Design. She enjoys her many roles as a teacher, artist, mother, mentor, as well as advocating for artists, children, and a better, cleaner world.
Killing Us Softly
Killing Us Softly
It’s a week before the Summer Solstice, and we are riding in a passenger van—seven friends driving 45 miles on country roads returning from a jazz concert in a nearby college town—when I am struck by the beauty of the Oregon farmland and oak-covered hills awash in the day’s late light. It is one of those moments when the natural beauty of this planet almost overwhelms me—I’m astonished that such a gorgeous place exists in the universe, and I am in it.
My next thought is the fact that the geographical distance we are covering in a matter of minutes would have taken human beings several days to travel a mere 200 years ago—before the discovery of fossil fuels and the invention of the automobile and its internal (infernal?) combustion engine. As we drive along, a very different set of images bloom fleetingly in my head, then fade away like old film. One: the seven of us are rattling along aboard a rickety, horse-drawn wagon that is raising a choking cloud of dust that drifts along with us. Two: all of us are riding along on horses, the only sounds the squeaking of saddle leather, the calling of a meadowlark, and the soft clopping of hooves against the clay soil. Three: the seven of us are walking by foot in hand-made clothing along a threadlike trail that winds through these hills and has been used for millennia before we arrived.
When I find my way back from the theatrics of my imagination to the inside of this van speeding along almost silently, I say, “Isn’t it amazing how we can go from point A to point B so quickly these days? I mean, look at us. We’re being ferried along on this ribbon of pavement at sixty miles an hour! We’re just sitting here inside this temperature-controlled, steel, glass, and plastic bubble with soft seats and cushy rubber tires, being whizzed along in total comfort.” I take a breath, adding, “This trip would have taken a week just a hundred years ago. It’s really wild when you think about it.”
Then, from the back of the van, my friend Allen responds with five words that hit me hard: “Yeah. And it’s killing us.” We all nod and laugh a little at the truth of his statement as we glide past hay fields and filbert orchards, stands of Douglas fir and maple-edged creeks, the sun moving imperceptibly lower on the western horizon, where it will eventually slide into the Pacific Ocean out beyond the Coast Range.
I try to imagine walking to the coast from where I live, a trip that takes less than an hour by automobile, thanks in part to a $350-million highway improvement project that took six years longer than planned, was over budget by $200 million, and involved moving more than 200,000 dump truck loads of dirt and rock. The years of work was done to bypass a curvy 10-mile section along the gorgeous Yaquina river, ostensibly to make the trip safer, but also to shave a few minutes off the route so goods and humans can be transported faster from point A to point B.

I think of Allen’s comment, and that early 1970s song, “Killing Me Softly,” starts playing in my mind.
Over the next few days, Allen’s words keeps coming back to me, along with images of indigenous people walking below blue skies and crescent moons and through the first hard rains of fall—humans walking miles only under their own caloric intake, venturing only as far as their legs could carry them, limited to what today would be considered a geographical postage stamp. I imagine the hushed quiet of an Earth with no automobiles or airplanes, no highways or interstate bridges, no gas stations or tire factories, no CO₂ emissions invisibly rising from the tailpipes of 1.2 billion cars crawling across the planet’s crust like so many bullet-like beetles. I can’t fathom the world in 2040—a mere 20 years from now—when the number of automobiles is projected to double. To think I might still be alive to witness that, if I make it to 80, isn’t a pleasant thought. What might our world look like today had Henry Ford never produced the first Model T in 1913, and 15 million more by 1927? What if the Wright brothers had never attained flight on those sand dunes near Kitty Hawk? And here we are today, pouring billions of dollars and engineering hours into the development of driverless cars. What if we spent all that monetary and human capital figuring out a way to phase out the automobile altogether?
And then I think again of Allen’s comment and how it was so spot-on: we are literally killing ourselves (and many others species) simply by living the lives we live—driving and flying and keeping our homes too warm in winter and too cool in summer, and consuming stuff shipped vast distances and delivered to our very doorsteps—all of it powered by fossil fuels.
The term “fossil fuel poisoning” forms in my brain, followed by the word suicide.
Most of us know someone, or someone who knows someone, who has chosen to leave this world by their own hand. Our daughter first experienced that in high school when a classmate took his own life. It traumatized her for months. My high school biology teacher, Mr. Stone—the best teacher I ever had—shot himself in the head with a hunting rifle a few years after I graduated. A close friend ended his life in the cab of his work truck after leaving a note for his wife and kids and believing they would all be better off without him in the world. Just last fall, the son of good friends chose to leave this world on their family farm while our friends were away on vacation. When celebrities die by suicide—Kurt Cobain, Robin Williams, David Foster Wallace, Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath, Ernest Hemmingway—the media goes wild. The CNN website switched to an all-black background for a day after reporter Anthony Bourdain took his life. Parts Unknown was the name of his travel and cooking show on CNN, and now Bourdain is there, wherever that is.
Yes, death is a part of living and everybody dies, but death by suicide is tragic and uncomfortable and hard to fathom for those left behind. We don’t believe that is the natural way life is supposed to end. So, why then are we collectively, as Allen said, killing ourselves? We know what’s coming with climate change, yet we continue to make choices that only accelerate our demise. I’m part of it, too. I rode to the concert in that van. I drive a car to see my aging father an hour away. Now and then, I take airplanes. I am part of our collective suicide by fossil fuel poisoning.
It’s been weeks now since that ride to and from the concert through the rolling hills bathed in late light, and Allen’s comment continues to haunt me at times: when I find myself sitting in eight lanes of traffic stopped and stacked on the double-decker I-5 bridge high above the Willamette River in Portland, or waiting for the red lights burning at an intersection the size of a football field, or passing a parking lot covered with the glittering glass and metal of so many cars. I look at bridges and airports and marvel at the human engineering capable of creating such feats. And I wonder, what with so much potential from the human heart and mind, why are we collectively choosing to take our own lives and the lives of our children? It makes no sense. Keeps me awake at night.
I can find some semblance of solace in imagining how it was here just a couple of hundred years ago, before concrete bridges or automobiles or any trace of asphalt, before streetlights and runways, pipelines and contrails, when people walked on footpaths and didn’t venture very far during an entire lifetime. When lifetimes were much shorter and people passed on by 35 or 40. Were these humans happier, walking below stars and through thundershowers without any artificial light? It’s hard to say. Of course, I’m thankful I don’t have to walk, that I can refuel our car and speed along at 70 miles an hour to go visit my 90-year-old father before he, too, is gone.
But it’s hard to be part of this fossil fuel poisoning, which, ultimately, is a collective suicide. I wish I knew how to save our species, but nobody could save Mr. Stone, or the classmate our daughter lost in high school, or the family friend who left the note pinned to his shirt. Sometimes, I take solace in thinking that perhaps, after our species is gone, the planet will be better off, without us. The bridges collapsed, the highways and runways weed-riddled and sloughed away, the gas stations ghostly and rusting and overgrown with Himalayan blackberry vines.
But often, it’s too much, too hard. We have a son and a daughter, so I have to stop my mind, rein in my thoughts, redirect my imagination.

Sometimes, that song comes back, “Killing Me Softly,” and I hear the line, “Strumming my pain with his fingers.” In the picture that’s now forming in my mind, I see a human being appear—a young woman, someone’s daughter—walking slowly through fireweed that has pushed up out of crumbled asphalt and is blooming a brilliant pink above the ruined roadbed. The guardrails are overgrown with honeysuckle and wild cucumber, and the woman is singing, a bundle cinched tight against her back. Out ahead of her, toward the west and the Pacific ocean, the Sun is sinking lower. And overhead, above the notes of her song, Venus is rising in the darkening sky.

About Gregg Kleiner
Gregg Kleiner is the author of the novel Where River Turns to Sky (HarperCollins), which was a finalist for both the Paterson Fiction Prize and the Oregon Book Award and was optioned for a feature film by Fox Searchlight. His first book for kids (and their grownups), Please Don’t Paint Our Planet Pink!, addresses the climate crisis by asking what might happen if we could see CO2, as pink? At age 16, he spent a year as an AFS exchange student in the mountains for northern Thailand, where he lived for a month at a Buddhist monastery under the tutelage of an aged monk. He has worked as a wildlife biologist, journalist, visiting professor, and dairy goat farmer and now resides near the confluence of the Marys and Willamette rivers in western Oregon. His writing has appeared in Orion, The Sun, The Saturday Evening Post, Whitefish Review, Oregon Quarterly, Camas Magazine, Terrain, and elsewhere.
The Holy Grail of Restoration
The Holy Grail of Restoration
Dust has blown over the Sinai’s denuded landscape for so long that it is hard to imagine it as the biblical “Land of Milk and Honey.” Yet satellite images and other evidence tell another story.
Seen from space, the Sinai Peninsula looks like a beating heart, with arteries and veins flowing to nurture the body. Clues from geologic time, evolution, and human history are all etched on the exposed soils. If one knows how to read this landscape, it is possible to see that rivers flowed through the Sinai over vast evolutionary time. Even now, there are periodic flash floods when, because of the degraded landscape, rain that would nurture the land flows immediately into the sea.
This strategic land is literally at the heart of early western civilization, situated at the intersection between Africa, the Mediterranean, and the Middle East. Figuring prominently in the cosmologies of western religions, the Sinai has had an immense impact on human civilization in both historical and contemporary times. Some of the earliest human mining of minerals took place in the Sinai. Repeatedly emerging cultures vied for this prized real estate. Humanity has been moved by poetry and art emanating from the region, but conflict and suffering have emerged as well.
For several hundred generations, humans have altered the habitat of living aquatic, plant, animal, bird, microbial, and fungal communities with devastating effects to the region’s ecology. Over historical time, the vegetative cover and evolutionary biodiversity of the Sinai has been in large part lost. Imagine the importance if it were possible to restore the region to ecological health.
Malik Boukebbous is a very capable, practical man in his late forties for whom managing large engineering works is normal. His experiences span the globe and many are of monumental scale. Of Belgian and Algerian ancestry, Malik has great empathy for the suffering of many people in the Middle East and beyond. The mixture of successful engineering at huge scale and personal understanding of the region’s psyche make Malik a natural bridge between cultures. Well known in Egypt as project manager for the giant Belgian dredging company DEME, working on the enlargement of the Suez Canal, Malik was approached in January 2016 by an official of the Egyptian government and asked if his company could help to restore Lake Bardawil in the Northern Sinai.

Protected from the Mediterranean Sea, inside a natural bay of accumulated coral deposits and marine sediments, Lake Bardawil on the northern coast of the Sinai Peninsula was evolutionarily and historically an abundant 40-meter-deep aquatic nursery. Now with a depth of less than two meters, the water hyper-saline and much hotter, the lake is only a shadow of what it once was. Fishing communities living and working along the lake’s banks for as long as anyone can remember can no longer count on catching fish to feed their families or make a living. The fishermen and most everyone else in the Sinai essentially have no gainful employment. Without legitimate work for the people to do, the Northern Sinai has become a seriously dangerous place.
To answer the question posed by the Egyptian government, Malik asked colleagues about who would be able to help create an integrated restoration design for Lake Bardawil from ecologic, economic, and social perspectives. The company referred Malik to Matthias (Ties) van der Hoeven, a morphological engineer in his mid-thirties who had worked on several projects in various parts of the world, including the construction of an artificial island in the Emirates. Earlier in his career, as a newly minted hydraulic engineer just out of University, Ties had gained valuable experience working as a consultant with a team of innovative coastal engineers before being hired by DEME.
Ties had made a bit of a stir when he was first hired by DEME by criticizing practices in the offshore dredging industry. One can imagine risk-averse engineers working on gigantic infrastructural or extraction projects reacting to a youthful engineer telling them they were doing it all wrong. The top managers heard about the disruptive young man and called him in to headquarters and asked what he was doing criticizing the work of seasoned engineers in the field.
Ties proceeded to tell the company’s management that from what he could see, the dredging industry was trying to go extinct. He told them that their current procedures would cause huge ecological impacts, constant legal disputes, and the loss of huge amounts of money. He added that there was another way to do the job. Interestingly, the top management at that time knew the industry was struggling with costly legal disputes, facing strong criticism of its environmental impacts and the potential of enormous fines. Instead of kicking the kid out and siding with the dredging cowboys, they asked him what he suggested they do.

Never shy, Ties, representing the thoughts of many younger engineers, told them that the company should deploy large numbers of inexpensive sensors on all equipment above and below the ocean’s surface, on vessels, on special grids of buoys in the water and to use instruments and cameras above and below the waterline to collect comprehensive data on wind, currents, sediment movements, temperature, pH, and all other relevant information. Ties explained that the data and images from these devices could be streamed in real time to a computer. The data would provide plotting points on a multi-dimensional graph representing real outcomes from all measured criteria. With this network in place, all decisions on dredging could be adjusted precisely based on analysis of the actual measured impacts. He called this “Proactive Adaptive Management.” The leaders of the company were impressed enough to at least try it. After DEME piloted a project using this method and realized that it could save millions of Euros as well as much embarrassment, there was no going back. Spurred on by a new generation of engineers who cared about the Earth and were dedicated to measuring the impact of their actions, the dredging industry took an important evolutionary step.
When Malik and Ties began to collaborate, sparks began to fly in a good way; together they were stronger, as if each provided a missing part of the other’s personality. Most importantly, they both wanted their work to benefit the Earth and human civilization. Ties began to consider what could be done to bring Lake Bardawil back to ecological health and productivity. Recruiting allies including colleagues within DEME—Arjan Mol, Frederik Goethals, Pierre De Geest, François De Keuleneer, and Maarten Lanters, a coastal engineering student at Ties’ alma mater, Delft University—along with Josien Steenbergen and Edward Schram, researchers at the Institute for Marine Resources and Ecosystem Studies (IMARES) at Wageningen University, Ties and this growing team began to envision what sorts of interventions could restore the ecology and provide peaceful occupations for the communities near the lake and throughout the Sinai. Ties and the team shared their thoughts with Malik, who then discussed them with his superiors in the company and with the Egyptians, all of whom became increasingly interested in what was being considered.
The team began to gather huge amounts of data on the region. They studied the geography, the tides, the currents, the rainfall, the aquatic life, the terrestrial biodiversity, wind speed, wind direction, and historical weather patterns. They looked at interventions made in the lake in previous decades and the results, noting that opening inlets to allow for a controlled increase of the tidal inflows while cautiously dredging the lake to increase the depth would result in three immediate ecological gains. First, the concentration of salts in the water would be lowered; second, the temperature would be reduced; and third, the fish in the lake would rapidly increase in size and number. Their research also suggested that improving the ecology would significantly benefit the local population, reversing the decline in the fishing industry and adding to food security, employment, and the much-needed emergence of a legitimate economy in the Sinai.
At this point, the design exercise had answered the questions that had originally been asked of Malik by the Egyptian government official. Perhaps most people would simply have declared victory and moved on; but as the datasets concerning the lake and the region continued to increase and were analyzed, Ties began to notice the potential of positive feedback loops being triggered that suggested transformational changes would occur if a certain progression of interventions were implemented. This spurred him to increasingly impassioned analysis. As the team began to run big data Weather Research and Forecasting (WRF) models on computers, certain scenarios began to show changes that pointed toward extremely compelling potential outcomes for the Middle East, North Africa, and the Mediterranean. These hinted at a massive breakthrough in understanding, explaining many of the historical outcomes in the region.
Ties began to wake in the middle of the night and find that he was in the midst of drawing detailed maps of North Africa and the Middle East on the floor. His family and friends were concerned that he wasn’t eating or sleeping regularly and was becoming more obviously hyperactive. Around this time a friend, Eric van den Lockant, asked Ties, “Did you see the VPRO documentary Green Gold? Have you ever heard of the Loess Plateau, John D. Liu, Willem Ferwerda, or the Commonland Foundation?”
Green Gold (also called Regreening the Desert), if you haven’t seen it, is a film I made with Dutch Public Television for a series called Tegenlicht or Backlight about the long-term inquiry I have been working on for most of the last three decades. The film contains documentation of ecosystem restoration worldwide, including in China, Ethiopia, Rwanda, and Jordan. It follows other films I’ve made on the subject, including The Lessons of the Loess Plateau and Hope in a Changing Climate. Ties, excited with his own work, was not interested in some documentary he had never heard of, but his friend didn’t give up. Eric finally downloaded Green Gold and forced Ties to sit down and watch it. The initial screening of this film caught Ties’ imagination and he began to watch it over and over again.
My own journey has led me to understand that it is possible to rehabilitate large-scale degraded landscapes, including restoring vast areas degraded over historical time. I have also learned that while this is possible, it is in no way easy. There are certain natural principles that it is necessary to understand—including that biodiversity, biomass, and accumulated organic matter are central to evolutionary outcomes and ecological function. When humans shift away from this scenario to degradation of these essential processes, it inevitably leads to ecosystem collapse.
When a region is de-vegetated—whether from greed or ignorance or both—many natural evolutionary processes are altered, causing several measurable and predictable outcomes. It is simply cause and effect. All living matter on the Earth is part of a web of life that has taken a lifeless molten rock surrounded by what for us are poisonous gases, and over enormous time, through continuous photosynthesis, transformed it into a beautiful planetary garden with an oxygenated atmosphere, a freshwater system, rich fertile soils, and amazing biodiversity. My observations and the results of numerous studies show that when you lose the vegetative cover, respiration through photosynthesis is reduced; the surface temperature and evaporation rates massively increase, causing spiraling negative feedback loops that can and do destroy functional ecosystems. When these negative trends continue for thousands of years, you end up with conditions very similar to those in the Sinai.


Left picture: Ho Jia Gou in Shaanxi, early Sept. 1995 | Right picture: Ho Jia Gou, Sept. 2009, from Hope in a Changing Climate, broadcast initially on the BBC World
My studies in China and worldwide suggest, at the very least, that it is possible to restore ecological function in many regions of the world. After supporting my early study for some time, the World Bank and the British Department for International Development (DFID) made some choices that propelled my thinking to a larger stage.
This began when I was assigned to make a scientific presentation to the Yellow River Forum in 2005. After dropping out of University to be a television cameraman, I became an accidental scholar working with a number of universities and research institutes, including the University of the West of England, Rothamsted Research, Reading University, George Mason University, the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN), and the Netherlands Institute of Ecology. That first scientific presentation was the start of a trajectory that has led to hundreds of presentations over the years.
One of the most eventful of these lectures took place in 2009 at the Tällberg Forum in Sweden. A very high-level audience, including an Undersecretary General of the United Nations, the Head of the European Environment Agency, the Chairman of the IUCN, and 500 of their closest friends were forced to listen to me. The Tällberg Forum in 2009 was also very notable as Johan Rockström of the Stockholm Resilience Centre was introducing the concept of “The Planetary Boundaries,” which was then published in a special edition of Nature magazine. This important paper can be seen as an increasingly dire warning updating the “Limits of Growth” that the Club of Rome introduced in 1972. This analysis is now widely accepted and punctuated by the latest report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) that warns of potentially catastrophic consequences if we don’t immediately act to reduce rising global temperature averages.
At the Tällberg Forum, among the luminaries, I felt very much like an unknown small fish. I spoke after former Norwegian Prime Minister Dr. Gro Harlem Brundtland, who had also been the head of the World Health Organization. Dr. Brundtland is well known for being asked by the Secretary General of the United Nations, in 1983, to chair the World Commission on Environment and Development that published an important policy paper widely known as the “Brundtland Report.” This important statement of global human intention included the first time that “Sustainable Development” was mentioned in international diplomacy. This was, for me, a very important turning point because through direct personal observation and documentation, I was convinced that restoration was possible but was beginning to feel that I was a lone voice calling in the wilderness about it.
My presentation at the Tällberg Forum had a very interesting effect. It fundamentally changed the tenor of the conference from one of resignation bordering on despair to one of hope and excitement. As fate would have it, in the audience was Willem Ferwerda, then the country director of IUCN Netherlands, who has become a friend and a champion of restoration. Following my presentation about the rehabilitation of the Loess Plateau, and how China’s example had motivated massive changes in Ethiopia and Rwanda and the potential of ecosystem restoration on a planetary scale, Willem came to me and said, “We have to work together for the rest of our lives.” My answer was, “Ok, but it’s not long enough.” Since that time, Willem and I have been working together. A few years after we met, Willem left IUCN and created the Commonland Foundation in order to take ecosystem restoration mainstream.
As a film, Green Gold brought together many ideas that I had wanted to communicate for quite some time. When Ties saw the film, he felt compelled to contact someone at the Commonland Foundation. On May 10, 2016, Ties sort of stormed the Commonland office with Malik, Pierre De Geest, and Delphine Van Goethem. They presented the initial design for the restoration of Lake Bardawil and the Sinai to Willem, John Loudon, and me.
The presentation made by Ties and his colleagues was very well thought out and wonderfully hopeful. Since documenting the Loess Plateau rehabilitation where the pilot project restored an area of 35,000 square kilometers, most other restoration projects have seemed small to me. Ties and his team’s vision for the restoration of Lake Bardawil and the Sinai did not seem small. Having studied for months, Ties and his team had begun to uncover and accumulate clues from many other studies. Complex ecological phenomena, which in isolation might seem like “far out” facts, can reveal logical patterns that are understandable. They show cause and effect that can explain many of the outcomes that we see today. This type of information is especially meaningful when you and your colleagues are in possession of a vast engineering capability and are used to deploying it for commercial reasons. It apparently gives one a different understanding of what is possible when you think it is normal to build artificial islands or double the size of the Suez Canal. To say the least, there was great excitement when Ties and his team shared their work.
The datasets that the team collected included studies analyzing pollen samples suggesting that over evolutionary time it was normal for ancient biodiversity from the Indian Ocean region to migrate into and live in North Africa, the Middle East, and the Mediterranean. The evidence also showed that the trend of biodiversity flowing north into the region reverses at a point several thousand years ago. What exactly changed to stop the wind, water, and biodiversity from flowing north?
Very quickly, Ties and I traveled to the Loess Plateau in China so he could fully understand the scale of the restoration and regeneration that had been accomplished there. We drove many hours through thick, diverse forests that cover what 25 years ago was bare earth. We sat outside of our cave hotel in Yan’an when a huge rainfall event drove us back indoors. We were forced to consider what it meant when you watched barrels of rain come down in an area that had been thought by most people to be a desert only 20 years before. To see that this water was absorbed into the biomass and into the intact soils and that these were the methods that had reversed traditional desertification was clearly apparent. We walked by the rapids on the Yellow River as I explained the role of microbes in evolution and their relationship to the oxygenated atmosphere, soil fertility, and carbon sequestration. Ties hopped around on the rocks and pointed. Then he stopped in his tracks and stared at a puddle. There, in small stagnant pool, algae were growing, emitting tiny bubbles of oxygen—not only illustrating, but actually breathing life onto the planet.
That night, Ties showed me one of his drawings of a water catchment from the Sinai, explaining his thoughts. I stopped him and asked if he knew who Millán Millán was. When he said no, I showed him a picture that Professor Millán had made some years before and showed me when I first met him. It was almost identical to Ties’ drawing. Professor Millán’s drawing is of the Spanish landscape rising north from Valencia, and Ties’ drawing is of the Sinai rising from the Mediterranean south toward Mount Catherine—but without a title and compass bearings, you could barely tell them apart.
I introduced Professor Millán Millán to Ties, and they began to communicate and meet. Professor Millán’s work spans decades as one of the world’s premier meteorologists working in Spain, Canada, Holland, Germany, the EU, and the Mediterranean. With Professor Millán’s help, Ties and the team began to learn more about the relationship between natural vegetation and temperature, cloud formation, and rainfall. The effects of deforestation and de-vegetation of the Sinai thousands of years ago can be seen in hindsight, and we can surmise how the ecosystem reacted and the function decreased from human impact. Without vegetation cover and normal evaporation and transpiration, the temperature on the soil surface massively increased. I have seen this in measurements the Chinese have made that show the same thing and through the experience of looking at natural and degraded systems worldwide.
Ties learned from Professor Millán that thermal updrafts caused by very high temperatures on de-vegetated landscapes drive moist air high into the atmosphere where it cannot rain, but instead becomes an even more serious greenhouse gas than CO2. As one looks closely, one begins to see how the Sinai de-vegetation over time led to dehydration of the biome and attendant higher surface temperatures that caused an inversion in wind direction. These extremely high temperatures caused by human beings de-vegetating this specific region reversed the wind, which began to pull moisture-laden air to the south. If you play a scenario forward from 7000 years ago of a vacuum pulling moist air out of North Africa, the Middle East, and the Mediterranean, the end result is exactly what we have right now. It seems to me that what Ties and his team saw is very probably the cause of desertification in North Africa, the Middle East, and the Mediterranean.
Satellite images of the Sinai are extremely revealing. They show the remains of numerous rivers flowing down out of the mountains. It looks like the beating heart and the veins of a body. These are etched into the stone; the amount of water and the force that did this is clearly enormous. Satellite images of mineral deposits also show that the drying of the Sahara took place very rapidly. This is clearly visible in sediment core readings as well. We even know when this took place. We are forced to contemplate why the areas that were once known as “the Fertile Crescent,” “the land of milk and honey,” and “the Garden of Eden” have become war-torn deserts. If this thesis is proven, then we are looking directly through the eyes of our ancestors and watching as they cause the desertification of the cradle of civilization of the western world.
It is important to note that religious teachings and evolutionary science-based analysis both posit that we humans emerged in Paradise. The Earth provides us with all that is needed for life to flourish. When studying how this came about, the best evidence we have suggests that the Earth formed around 4.5 billion years ago (give or take 100 million), when cosmic dust orbiting the Sun solidified into a molten rock surrounded by what for us are poisonous gases. As the crust of the planet cooled, microbial life emerged and began to differentiate. The planet’s violent crucible eventually cooled enough for photosynthetic living beings over prodigious time to transform the Earth into a beautiful garden with an oxygenated atmosphere, a freshwater system, fertile living soils, and wonderful biodiversity.
Looking back and studying the ruins of once great civilizations, we may be forgiven for thinking that our history is long. However, in relation to geological and/or evolutionary time, human history is quite sudden, short, and brutal. Over what little history we humans do have, it is clear that we often behaved as a murderous gang, terribly mistreating each other and massively changing Earth systems in quite dangerous ways. History is often taught as if those who most successfully brutalized, killed, and enslaved others were somehow the winners. From another perspective, it seems obvious that in violence and war, there are no winners. We all lose.
As the design team at DEME went further with an emerging vision of what was possible in terms of ecological restoration using the existing industrial capacity combined with ecological understanding, the corporation began to contemplate whether its future might be very different than its past. Looking at the options—extraction, the petroleum industry, the military-industrial complex, and just large engineering in general—one could consider this industry as archaic megafauna that is not really suited to a new reality that is more caring, egalitarian, and sustainable.
But perhaps we need to look again. What if this capacity to create change at enormous scale tempered by consciousness and mutual benefit was exactly what was needed? What if this power could be channeled toward regenerating degraded landscapes? Suddenly, part of the company began to see its future could be one that regenerates natural systems instead of one that destroys them. This change in intention is central to the evolutionary step that human civilization is called to take at this time. This type of thinking could provide a pathway for this and other companies to create a new holistic, sustainable industrial reality for the future.
Since we met, Ties and I have reconnected with some very experienced people who I had met earlier on my inquiry. These include Professor Li Rui, a Chinese scientist who has spent his entire working life on Earth restoration; Professor Tim Flannery, the famous Australian scientist and author of several books, including The Weather Makers; Daniel Halsey, a designer, trainer, and author who has been designing and implementing perennial polyculture landscapes; Dr. Charling Tao, a renowned physicist, activist, and friend; and Dr. John Todd, who has been designing constructed wetlands for decades and is considered by many to be the father of the field. Many others in Holland, Belgium, and beyond have begun to co-create a future that—instead of destroying the systems we rely on for life through ignorance and greed—restores them with consciousness and generosity.
A vision has begun to emerge from the growing understanding that by carefully dredging inlets from the Mediterranean Sea, it is possible to quickly reduce the salinity and the temperature of the water in Lake Bardawil. These actions will result in an increased tidal basin that will lead to significant and sustainable increases in the amount of fish, helping revive the traditional fishing industry and creating hope that things can get better. Dredging carefully to further deepen the lake and moving the materials from the lake onto the land allows for a number of positive developments both in the lake and on land. These include growth in calcium carbonate from growth of aquatic life; increased sea grasses; expanded reed beds in the lake; and a vast potential for soil formation through the introduction of microbial communities, fungi, and organic material on the land.
Consciously aligning human behavior with ecological systems over larger and larger areas of the marine and terrestrial environment can lead to further positive developments. The use of marine sediments to rapidly grow organic soils could change the fertility, productivity, and moisture retention in the Sinai. Massive propagation and planting of grasses, bushes, and trees will sequester carbon in both the biomass and the soil, which will physically lower the temperatures on the surface of the Earth. Lowering the temperatures will have a massive impact on evaporation and allow more water to be captured in the biomass and soil organic matter, helping to recharge the localized hydrological cycle. All of this will lead to positive feedback loops, further increasing moisture cycling, vegetative growth, and the return of biodiversity. To achieve this requires the creation of meaningful jobs that serve the local interest while simultaneously helping to address the most serious problem that human civilization has ever faced: the potential of runaway climate change. There is simply no doubt that these ecological improvements will positively influence the human social situation in the Sinai.

Carrying the analysis further, one begins to wonder: What would happen if these actions could reverse the causes of desertification in the region? If it were possible to stop the vacuum effect sucking moisture-laden air into the high atmosphere and pulling it to the south, would the inverse be to return the winds flowing north over the Sinai? Could this mean that the moisture-laden air coming from the Indian Ocean would return to the entire region? Could it be possible to rehydrate the dehydrated biome in the Sinai? Might it be possible to bring back the evolutionary outcomes that created the Garden of Eden?
The siren song of restoring the cradle of Western civilization to ecological health has firmly captured the hearts and minds of several talented people. Committing to the call to blend industrial capability with ecology has led Ties, Maddie Akkermans-Gockel, and Gijs Bosman to create a holistic engineering firm called The Weather Makers. The name is inspired by Professor Tim Flannery’s book that posits that humanity has already become weather makers, but not consciously. What the new Weather Makers show is that it is possible to make our industrial impact conscious and nurturing instead of destructive. This is a necessary next step toward sustainability and survival for humanity.
The Weather Makers thesis has been shared with the main science bodies in the Netherlands, the Dutch government, the Belgian government, the International Center for Agricultural Research in the Dry Areas (ICARDA), the World Bank, Wetlands International, the RAMSAR Convention Secretariat, and several other international experts in the field. In each case, there has been an enthusiastic response because the thesis that the Weather Makers have presented is such a plausible and innovative idea.
Functional living ecosystems are formed of diverse life forms in symbiosis. It stands to reason that if human systems seek to emulate natural ones, that these will be extremely complex, decentralized, and interactive. The initial design for the Sinai is a very good start that immediately recognizes relationships between organic material and hydrology, temperature differentials and wind speed, direction and altitude, microbiological interactions with geological minerals, organic growth of vegetation and soils, and the importance of respiration of plants and animals in the regulation of weather and climate.
Several of the concepts in the Weather Makers thesis are groundbreaking. The Weather Research and Forecast modeling suggesting that fundamental shifts in wind patterns could be brought about by restoration of the entire Sinai is of huge importance. The strategic use of marine sediments on land combined with microbial and fungal inoculation has very large potential for the protection of coastal regions. Creating vast numbers of meaningful jobs for marginalized people has the potential to reduce instability and promote peace. The overall intention of the project has the potential to show the global industrial complex how to pursue regenerative and peaceful pursuits, thus ending pollution and degradation—making holistic engineering central to the future of human civilization.
This thesis advocates transformational change. These changes are applicable and relevant not only in the Sinai, they are needed for the entire region and the world. Transformation is tantalizing because it is possible. If we have this as our intention, then we can make it happen. However, transformation is complicated because the current global market economy based on extraction, manufacturing, and buying and selling simply does not value people who do not contribute to the global transactional economy, even while valuing criminals who plunder the Earth’s resources and oppress billions of innocent people. How to resolve this contradiction is central to human efforts at regeneration. Answering this dilemma could lead us to the restoration of the entire planet.
We have grown so used to believing that things we produce, buy, and sell are the basis of the economy, it is hard to imagine that actually the wind, rain, and air are more valuable. Let us take a deep breath and ask if we are about to destroy our civilization, what is most precious? In a situation where climate change threatens our existence, what do we think is the value of natural climate regulation?
Following this thesis is like seeking the Holy Grail. The vision that we can mend our collective broken heart and live again in the garden is beautiful and compelling. If this is even remotely possible, we are obligated to take on the challenge.

About John D. Liu
John D. Liu is Ecosystem Ambassador for the Commonland Foundation and Visiting Fellow at the Netherlands Institute of Ecology. Most of John’s published work including films, articles and essays are collected at: https://knaw.academia.edu/JohnDLiu
Dancing with Gaia
Dancing with Gaia
Editors’s Note | CLIMATE CHANGE & CONSCIOUSNESS: OUR LEGACY FOR THE EARTH, at the Findhorn Foundation, in North Scotland, April 20-26, 2019, will be a unique conference about surviving and thriving in a climate changing world and post-carbon economy. The event will feature some of the clearest and most passionate voices for the Earth ever gathered together in one place. Kosmos is an official hub for CCC19.
It may be difficult for organizers and strategists, planners, activists, and environmentalists to comprehend how an event as broad in scale and as detailed as the upcoming gathering, Climate Change & Consciousness: Our Legacy for the Earth, was delivered completely through spiritual guidance. But it was.
I am a neuroscientist, a clinician, a researcher, an author, and an educator. I am a mother and a grandmother, and I am married to an environmental attorney who tests my ideas through the lens of his critical thinking about how things work. While I have cultivated spiritual awareness my entire life, I have also trained extensively in somatics and make every effort to be grounded and anchored as I must be to meet all my responsibilities.
Yet on the night of November 8th, 2016, as I was heading in the direction of enormous despair by what was happening in my country, I was lifted up by the delivery into my physical body—starting at the crown of my head and descending in increments to my toes—of a clear plan. This was a structure for gathering together a diverse assembly of humans at a place known for its profound relationship to nature so that they could awaken to, celebrate, and act on the power of human resilience and evolution to meet the climate crisis and alchemize it through action.
The skeletal design, the central players (indigenous leaders, youth, environmental scientists, activists, artists, permaculturists, diversity farmers, neuroscientists, community organizers, physicians, social entrepreneurs, architects, transportation and urban planners, businessmen and women of all ages and from all over the globe) would come together and, in collaboration with the unseen realms and the creatures of the earth, pool their innate brilliance to rally humanity practically and effectively in the name of the children of the future.
Many of the speakers were named to me along with the location for the gathering. The instructions were logical and direct, but the manner of their transmission was completely revolutionary. It was an outline for action, and it was given with such clarity and insistence that there was no resistance possible. And it all downloaded in less than fifteen minutes. I have never turned back from this assignment, though it transformed my life completely in virtually every regard from that moment forward.
What has impressed me the most since that stunning moment two years ago is the neuroresilience that has accompanied it. I have moved into thought realms and collaborative relationships that are unlike anything I would have chosen for myself. The joys I experience from living brazenly on these new creative frontiers bring with them a unique neurochemistry that I did not even know was possible. This speaks to my conversation with environmentalist Bob Yuhnke elsewhere in this journal about ending habituation as the path of consciousness in a climate-changing world. It is letting go of the very ways in which we identify and value ourselves that we enter the neuroplasticity required of this new era.
I am sharing all this with you right now in order to encourage you to step into activism and leadership not as a duty but as a love affair. Nothing promotes radical transformation as much as love. And who is the affair with? It is with life itself: with Gaia, with the natural world, with the promise of a future. It is also a love affair with your own highest potential. The art of love is the art of surrender. As someone who always thought she would be an artist (meaning a poet or a dancer) I never would have considered social leadership as an art form, but that is exactly what it is. We are dancing with the forces of fate and the subtle realms—listening to the music of an evolutionary symphony that oscillates between discordant and rhapsodic. This is what Climate Change & Consciousness means to me: the dance of life, the art of love.
Images by Zach Street
Zach Street is an Artist/Activist/Educator living in Hilo, Hawai’i, and shares his island home with the ‘Ōhi‘a Lehua featured here. Endemic to the island, these iconic trees are symbolic of love, dance, and the spirit of Nature. Currently under threat from human introduced diseases, the ‘Ōhi‘a Lehua are inspiring the local community to act for the future of the forests of Hawai’i. MORE
Yes, we are living on the brink of utter disaster. Yes, species are being lost and the grief is unbearable. We do not know if there will be a future worth inhabiting for our children or our children’s children. Yet, at the same time, the symphony of miraculous, impossible change is being composed for us. Please listen. As someone who has survived and thrived despite overwhelming trauma, I know the paradox of hopelessness conjoined with limitless possibility. This juxtaposition is what I am looking at now as I survey a world in crisis. I do not deny the despair that comes over me, but it is always alchemized into faith by astounding neural connections that are built as I evolve through and with this crisis.
While I study the science of climate change, I also study the human nervous system. I have become more focused and clearer about their interaction. From a physiological standpoint, we have every capacity to innovate ourselves and to shift behavior, speech, and thinking in unforeseen directions. Foremost among the health consequences of climate change is the loss, panic, and stress that is virtually everywhere and that will accelerate. There is nothing more important for us to do than to step courageously into the role of leadership in this regard—whether we think we are qualified or not—by modeling a pioneering response to challenge. I invite you to embrace the crucible of our climate-changing world as you would welcome a lover or unique friend—someone so unpredictable and provocative that they wake you up to the present. This reality we are moving into has many hidden twists and turns. It is full of surprises. Dare to enjoy the growth it ignites and embody how that translates into activism. We are all newcomers to what Thomas Berry called the Ecozoic Era when humans would recover their creative orientation to the world.
In the process of healing from early trauma, I have reclaimed some of the childhood that I lost because of it. This imparts a capacity to be incredibly curious, like a child coming into a room for the first time and noticing all the energies that are there: the colors, the shapes, the nuances, the sensations. This sensory experience of discovery is a key aspect of moving into the unprecedented qualities of this historical moment. Paradoxically, I see the world as if for both the last and the first time. I am made anew by the guidance that is available to flow through me and direct my words, my gestures, even my very steps. Every action we take is programmed in the somatosensory cortex, the behavioral hard drive of the brain. Addictions are sustained by addictive gestures, down to the simplest ones like lighting a smoke, ordering a burger, or turning on the ignition of a car and expecting to hear the engine turn over. When we break an addiction, these behaviors no longer engage. Instead, new neuronal connections are sparked. That is what I experience as I step into leadership. It is a cellular regenerative high that no drug can replicate. It is sustainable and sustaining. It is available for you, free of charge, if you are willing to dance with your beloved Gaia. She is waiting expectantly for you, her hands outstretched.
Attend the parallel Kosmos Event | Climate, Consciousness, and Community Summit | April 20-23

About Stephanie Mines
Dr. Stephanie Mines is a neuropsychologist whose unique understanding comes from extensive research as well as decades of fieldwork. Her stories of personal transformation have led many listeners to become deeply committed to the healing journey. Dr. Mines understands shock from every conceivable perspective. She has investigated it as a survivor, a professional, a healthcare provider, and as a trainer of staffs of institutions and agencies. She is devoted to the living experience of healing trauma in community that she believes is essential for us to thrive in a climate changing world.
Consciousness and the Combustion Engine
Consciousness and the Combustion Engine
Featured Image | by Zach Street
This article is possible through a collaboration with CCC19—Climate Change and Consciousness: Our Legacy for the Earth, at the Findhorn Foundation, North Scotland, April 20–26, 2019. The event will feature some of the clearest and most passionate voices for the Earth ever gathered together in one place. Kosmos is an official hub for CCC19.
Introduction
Getting to zero emissions by 2050, as the IPCC Report demands, requires a collective detox from our addiction to oil. We are in the midst of a global overdose. We need to enter a universal treatment center with consciousness as the lead therapist.
Environmental Attorney Robert Yuhnke, who is developing the transportation policy position for the U.S. Climate Action Network, and Stephanie Mines, a neuroscientist and the convener of CCC19, have a conversation about how to come clean from our addiction.
What We Know About How Humans Are Changing the Climate
Robert | Thirty years ago, scientists warned that adding CO2 and other heat-trapping gases to our atmosphere would warm the planet and disrupt the stable climate system that has supported the development of agriculture and the evolution of human civilization for the last 8000 years. Now, those changes predicted a generation ago are happening: more massive floods; more powerful hurricanes; expanded tornado zones; hotter and longer droughts that cause crop desiccation, forest die-off, and unstoppable firestorms; ocean warming that has bleached more than one-third of the coral reefs; and ocean acidification that threatens the survival of all shell-dwelling critters, thereby putting the entire marine web of life at risk.
Stephanie | Thirty years ago, I was pregnant with my second child. Less than a year prior, I had completed my doctorate. I felt like I was starting all over again with a new career and a baby on the way. Climate change never crossed my mind and, as far as I could tell, none of my friends, family, or clients were thinking about it. Jumping into my car whenever I had to go anywhere was a sign of my freedom. I was close enough to town to walk there for meetings and errands, but time was always tight with a bustling practice and children. I and the people in my world chose to be completely unconscious of how we had been manipulated into believing that each one of us had to have our own vehicle, and that we needed it to do everything quickly in our important, busy, and individually-focused lives. We could afford it, so why not?
Robert | Climate change consequences arrived sooner, and are more severe, than scientists anticipated two decades ago. An ice-free Arctic Ocean was not expected for another generation, but likely will occur this summer. Massive melting of Antarctic glaciers was not expected for a half-century or more, but is happening now. Damage from climate-related events in the U.S. alone exceeded $300 billion in 2017. The Climate Assessment released by 13 U.S. agencies in December 2018, reports that damages from climate disasters soon will routinely exceed $500 billion annually, contributing to a significant contraction in the national economy.
Many of these effects were not expected to occur until after the global temperature had warmed at least 2 degrees (C), but, to date, the global average has climbed only 1.1 C since the beginning of the industrial age. Heeding warnings that a rise of 2 C might result in a runaway climate catastrophe beyond human intervention, global leaders at the 2015 Paris Conference asked the International Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) to determine what must be done to limit the increase to 1.5 C.
Stephanie | Now that daughter, who I was carrying in my body thirty years ago, has launched a career and is entering the relationship that may be her soul partnership. Her life is blossoming, but due to my ignorance and blindness, climate change is disappearing her future. While I tried to keep her clean and well fed, and educate her and prepare her for life, I was completely ignoring the devastation that I was contributing to as I chauffeured her from one event to another, from one class to another, to and from play dates and lessons and swim meets and overnights. I was raising my children and counseling my clients in total ignorance of what we were doing to our world. Like a blindfolded captive, I was erasing the future.
What Must Be Done to Stop a Runaway Climate Catastrophe?
Robert | In October, 2018, IPCC reported that because no notable progress had been made in reversing greenhouse gas emissions, it might be too late to avoid exceeding a rise of 1.5 C. But if some of the unknowns work out in our favor, it might be possible. If CO2 emissions are cut to net zero by 2050, with half of those reductions achieved by 2030, AND if a large portion of the land surface currently dedicated to raising beef and other domestic animals is reforested to grow the planet’s capacity to remove CO2 from the atmosphere, we might not cross that threshold. To achieve these emission targets, almost all energy uses that rely on the combustion of fossil carbon must be stopped or converted to zero emission technologies by 2050. Half of those reductions must be achieved within the next 11 years to avoid total atmospheric loadings that will drive temperatures above the 1.5 C target over the next 1000 years while we wait for forests and phytoplankton in the oceans to restore stability to the climate by extracting CO2 from the air.

Stephanie | What qualifies as an addiction? It is insistent, obsessive repetition that is hardwired into the brain. Pain is experienced if the satisfaction center that is the goal of that repetition is not reached. Other options for satisfaction are nullified. In all cases, the original impulse for satisfaction was innocent, but having been completely defeated, it has been forgotten. It takes considerable effort to remind the brain of what it wanted originally: love, connection, peace, and joy. Neuroplasticity is fueled by the potential to replace the compensatory satisfaction with something real. Then it is possible to live past the pain and remember what it feels like to make another choice. This is a change in consciousness. It is synonymous with coming out of addiction.
Transport As an Example of the Challenge We Face
Robert | Worldwide, over one billion cars and trucks, tens of thousands of aircraft, and many thousand ships at sea and railroad locomotives together combust roughly 50 million barrels of the 100 million barrels of petroleum extracted from the Earth EVERY DAY. The petroleum burned to provide the motive power to move people and goods accounts for nearly one-quarter of all CO2 emitted daily into the atmosphere. In the U.S., where coal burned to generate electric power was once the largest source of CO2, emissions from power generation have been reduced during the last decade by switching to natural gas, wind, and solar. Now, transport—a sector of the economy where emissions are growing—is the largest source of CO2, at 35 percent. The IPCC global emission targets cannot be achieved without reducing transport emissions to net zero by 2050.
The climate crisis demands that the use of fossil fuels in the transport sector must end. This calls for the accelerated replacement of fossil fueled (FF) internal combustion engines (ICEs) throughout the transport sector. Electric and hydrogen powered vehicles emit no greenhouse gasses (GHGs) from the vehicles themselves. And, zero emissions are achieved if the electricity or hydrogen is generated using renewable sources of energy.
Recently developed battery technology is resulting in commercially available zero emission vehicles (ZEVs)—passenger vehicles, vans, transit and school busses, and passenger and freight rail. New electric pick-up truck and 18 wheeler models were commercially introduced in 2018, and Tesla anticipates releasing a long-haul truck by 2020. Hydrogen fuel-cell vehicles also are in use in California, Europe, and Asia. The challenge is to deploy these technologies quickly enough to replace one billion ICEs by 2050.
Currently, more than 60 million new passenger vehicles and a few million new trucks are sold annually worldwide. In the next 20 years, 1.5 billion new vehicles will be produced—both to replace the existing global fleet and to add vehicles to meet growing demand. As of 2018, less than one percent of global new vehicle sales are ZEVs. But to meet the IPCC’s zero emission target and replace all ICEs by 2050, 100 percent of sales must be ZEVs within a few years.
This could be accomplished if every new car buyer insisted on buying a ZEV. Public demand, if consciously guided by the choice needed to protect our planetary home, could transform the world’s vehicle population by 2050. But that is not happening here, either because people are not making conscious choices or their choices are not guided by planetary consciousness.
We should look to Norway where 30 percent of new vehicle sales are ZEVs, and 40 percent of miles driven are in ZEVs. How has Norway created broad public demand for ZEVs? It’s investing in a ubiquitous electric vehicle (EV) charging network where power is often free; creating tax benefits that offset the incremental purchase price of a new EV; and setting 2025 as the deadline for ending the sale of new ICEs. Clearly, the public will respond if the price signals are set.
Capital costs of new EVs are dropping rapidly as advances in battery technology reduce their cost and weight. Bloomberg estimates the cost of battery EVs will be comparable to new ICEs by 2023–2025; California estimates comparable costs by 2030. Soon, special tax incentives may not be needed to make EVs price competitive. But competitive pricing will shift only some market demand; not 100 percent. To achieve the IPCC targets, the sale of all new ICEs must end within the next few years. Can this change in attitudes be accomplished in our democracy soon enough to save the planet?
Stephanie | The brain never stops evolving. My entire focus in life has been on the human experience of the resolution of shock and trauma, individually and in community. I have seen over and over again the enormous human capacity to change. Just recently I was asked to help resolve the conflict between the head of an organization and a staff member who felt abused by him. For hours, the CEO defended himself saying that the charges of abuse were impossible. The incidents had never occurred. He was convinced that the staff member was fabricating the events. Then, in the last 15 minutes of our meeting, it dawned on him that he had been blind to the impact of his words. He had been culturally insensitive. He had failed to see how he had put a roadblock on someone’s path by not paying attention; by being self-serving. In that moment he woke up.
Like this CEO, we can still wake up while there is just enough time. A big shift can happen in just a few moments when we reroute our attention and open to new ways of reaching satisfaction. I can face the truth of what I contributed to our painful reality and make a new choice now. If everyone reading this becomes a vehicle of change by only driving electric cars, inspiring someone else to do the same, and demanding that governments act to require automakers to meet the needs of a planetary system in crisis, we will be many steps closer to thriving in a climate-changing world.

About Stephanie Mines
Dr. Stephanie Mines is a neuropsychologist whose unique understanding comes from extensive research as well as decades of fieldwork. Her stories of personal transformation have led many listeners to become deeply committed to the healing journey. Dr. Mines understands shock from every conceivable perspective. She has investigated it as a survivor, a professional, a healthcare provider, and as a trainer of staffs of institutions and agencies. She is devoted to the living experience of healing trauma in community that she believes is essential for us to thrive in a climate changing world.

About Robert E. Yuhnke
Robert E. Yuhnke served as an Assistant Attorney General who provided legal counsel to the Pennsylvania Department of Environmental Resources regarding regulations and litigation strategies for cleaning up air pollution from the steel industry. Later he created the clean air program at Environmental Defense Fund with primary focus on stopping the acidification of forests and watersheds from acid rain caused by sulfur pollution emitted from coal fired power plants and copper smelters. He also created the transportation program at EDF and played a major role working with key members of Congress in drafting or negotiating provisions of the 1990 Clean Air Act Amendments.
Emergent Universe Oratorio
Emergent Universe Oratorio
SAMUEL GUARNACCIA composer | PAULA GUARNACCIA producer | CAMERON DAVIS visual artist
The Emergent Universe Oratorio (EUO) is an hour-and-a-half long choral and orchestral composition which often is co-presented with a series of dynamic paintings created by the visual artist, Cameron Davis. It was conceived in response to the current scientific cosmology as presented in the 2011 documentary Journey of the Universe.
The EUO was deeply inspired by the work Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, Thomas Berry, Brian Swimme, and Mary Evelyn Tucker and John Grim from the Forum on Religion and Ecology at Yale University. These seminal thinkers have endeavored to lead us to a new understanding of the place of humans in the Universe. The film, Journey of the Universe, inspired this artistic musical expression built on the themes of the documentary—to provide a way to enter in, and directly experience, this new cosmology, deepening our evolving understanding of and response to the ‘new story’.
“The great discovery of contemporary science is that the universe is not simply a place, but a story—a story in which we are immersed, to which we belong, and out of which we arose.” (Swimme/Tucker)
The EUO music and lyrics express this new story, endeavoring to evoke reverence and responsibility. The EUO also is a call to inspire humanity to participate in Earth’s transition toward a mutually enhancing Earth-human relationship. The work includes lyrics and texts of visionary poets, scientists, writers—Thomas Berry, Gerard Manley Hopkins, Rainer Maria Rilke, Wendell Berry, Brian Swimme, John Elder, and Mary Evelyn Tucker.
The EUO’s intent is to provide a pathway through art and music to a “total commitment to (all) life” (Thomas Berry), which arises from the deep awareness, awe, and reverence for our absolute unity with the Universe.
Interview with Sam and Paula Guarnaccia
Kari | Sam and Paula, what prompted you to interweave science, music, words, spirituality, philosophy, and billions of years of history into this beautiful narrative that tells the story of everyone and everything?
Sam | Well, the simplest answer is the insatiable curiosity that drives all inquiry—and that is that everything is connected. Something came to me in thinking about that—music is like water flowing beneath that bridge that is—being. Music has a way of expressing the inexpressible. It HAD to be a great interweaving of all the ways of knowing that are possible for humans.
Paula | With that being said, we wanted this also to be scientifically valid, so we had a number of scientists read through it and they did make some very substantive changes. Obviously it’s evolving all the time, but right now, the scientists have said it’s valid.
Sam | Absolutely. At the Philadelphia concert introduction, Ursula Goodenough, a phenomenally important cell biologist (who was one of the people who reviewed the libretto and made some changes), declared it “scientifically flawless,” which was very, very gratifying to us. She also very succinctly and powerfully talked about how humans really process everything through stories.
Paula | We are really standing on the shoulders of giants. Giants who have thought through these concepts so beautifully and we’re just giving the latest voice to this wonderful story that is not just ours; it’s everyone’s story. We don’t claim it, we just are expressing it.
Kari | Why did you choose to tell the story in the form of an oratorio when you could have maybe chosen to do a series of songs, a concept album, one long Guinness World Record track, an opera, a soundtrack that could include a filmography, or images, or dance? Why an oratorio?
Sam | I love that question. It’s not one that I’ve ever been asked before. I guess one answer is the oratorio has a great history. It’s a story form in music that goes way, way back, before opera. Probably the world’s best known oratorio is Handel’s Messiah. It was important to me, and then to all of us as we went forward, to think—what form could stand up to the test of time and hopefully become an important contribution to mainstream art and cultural expression? My hope was that this would have enough substance and be good enough to be able to do that.
Paula | In terms of your question about images, we always felt that the visual was an important component of the performance. That’s why we collaborated very closely over several years with visual artist, Cameron Davis. Cami created 12 beautiful, very large paintings for the first performance, and they’ve been present for all of the performances in one way or another. They formed the set, a visual representation that carried so much of the emotional content as well. We’ve always felt that was extremely important.
Sam | And then another important part of my answer to this wonderful question is—the real dream that we have for this project is, at some point, to have the resources to collaborate with a passionate and highly skilled documentary filmmaker. The oratorio would be essentially the soundtrack source for a really beautiful documentary that contained all of the music, but most of the words transformed to beautiful visuals, maybe with some underlying text.
Kari | Oh, I think it would lend itself to that! Hopefully, somebody comes forward that you could collaborate with. I also wanted to comment on how well it integrates science with beauty and things that we ‘know’ about the universe. Then there are things that we ‘can’t know’. How does this tension inform your work?
Sam | Well again, I love this question—so insightful when you put the first ‘know’ in quotes, the ‘knowing’ of facts—the great science story—the lists of truly astounding things that we now know. Then there is the knowing of personal relationship. One thing this question prompted in me was thinking of Thomas Berry and Brian Swimme’s original The Universe Story book of the early ’90s; they talk about, “How does the universe work?” In the language of Thomas Berry, there is a cosmological principle that has three elements: diversification, interiority/subjectivity, and communion.
Once you get these different identities, then they can enter into relationships. The title is Emergent Universe Oratorio, and emergence is not a new concept, but it is relatively new. It is the appearance of unpredictable, unexpected, unforeseeable dynamics and structures from elements that exist at lower/simpler levels. Everything in the universe is emerging through this process of what is called cosmogenesis. It’s the constant becoming of everything. Another way of saying it: the Universe is astonishingly creative.
Paula | It’s one of the concepts … or the takeaways for an audience, and it starts right in the title, Emergent Universe Oratorio … emergent … this idea that things are evolving or changing, that things are going to be revealed, that there’s an unfolding in life and the great humility that comes from knowing that. So the world we ‘know’, and I love the quotation marks too, because we know something but it’s not complete. Is it ever complete? We’re in an evolving world.
Kari | Let’s move onto the idea of Rising Earth Awareness, the theme of this edition, which is sort of related to ‘emergence’. How does the oratorio speak to that? And do you think the Earth is becoming more aware of us too?
Paula | Oh yes. As a matter fact, there is an Emergent Universe Oratorio phase two project that’s going to be earthbound. Sam can tell you about that.
Sam | If you are familiar with Robin Wall Kimmerer’s work, she is a Native American and a brilliant scientist. She is probably the leading authority in the world on mosses, which are among the first plants, and which are responsible for you and me being able to have this conversation.

Paula | Robin’s book, Braiding Sweetgrass, is tremendous. We’re beginning a collaboration on a piece that, hopefully, will be reflecting earth awareness, so it’s going from the cosmos down into the world of mosses and lichens—very earthbound. One way to say this in terms of rising earth awareness is that once you take on board the story of the universe and you understand where we came from and the factors that have led to the development of the Earth, then you can begin to understand where we are, and perhaps where we’re going.
Sam | Your question also suggests Lynn Margulis’ and James Lovelock’s Gaia hypothesis—that the Earth is a sentient being, a self-organizing system that is actually experiencing a fever and is responding with an immune response to that fever, and that immune response is this conversation we’re having. There are hundreds of thousands of little NGOs, individuals, and groups like Kosmos, Emergence Magazine, Bill McKibben’s 350.org, and so forth, all contributing to a global immune response to the planetary threat.
Freeman Dyson, professor emeritus at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, said, “The more I examine the universe and study the details of its architecture, the more evidence I find that the universe in some sense must have known that we were coming.”
Freeman Dyson is, I would say, one of the most skeptical scientists on Earth. For him to say that is a powerful affirmation that the Earth is becoming more aware of us too.
Kari | I wanted to talk a little bit about the film, Journey of the Universe, by Mary Evelyn Tucker and Brian Swimme, and how that film acted as a catalyst for the libretto that accompanies your oratorio.
Paula | Well, I can start that. When we met Mary Evelyn Tucker and John Grim in June of 2011, we were already working with Cami Davis. All three of us were working together on a piece that was Earth-based at that point. We had the concept of an oratorio, a libretto and we were working toward it. There was a little bit of music written, just the beginning of things. When we met Mary Evelyn and John—they came to dinner at our house—and it was like a lightning bolt quite frankly. We saw the film, and thought “What other story is there to tell? I mean this is THE story.” We worked with Mary Evelyn, John, and Brian Swimme to vet the libretto. They have been tremendous supporters of this work. There’s a deep connection there.
Sam | Yes, the way the chapters are arranged in the book and in the film—the sequences of scenes in the Journey of the Universe documentary—when you have a chance to see it, you will for sure recognize the flow.
Kari | They are some of the giants that you’re standing on the shoulders of.
Sam | Yes, they are. They’re just really remarkable. They started the Forum for Religion and Ecology at Yale. Yale has arguably the best environmental school—the Yale School of Forestry—and the Yale Divinity School is renowned. They have bridged those two things, bringing religion and ecology together. There’s great power and great insight in all of that work.
Kari | In the same vein as the ideas of crossing domains and integrating everything and everybody, you involved children in reading the Lament, and it struck me as a very powerful and very timely addition because we have so many young voices now as leaders of movements. Was the decision to include young voices a deliberate one or was it arbitrary? Do you feel it’s important that they’re included?
Paula | Oh yes, and it was not arbitrary at all. We had this idea to do a narrative of lost species, ecosystem loss, and just loss. We worked first with Amy Seidl (biologist at the University of Vermont), who did the initial writing, and we were searching for a young person to read with her. We settled on her daughter Helen, who auditioned and was just great. So it started off being a mother-daughter conversation first. Then, when we went to Cleveland, we thought, “We don’t have a mother-daughter, but why not two young people?” We had connections to some charter schools in Cleveland. We auditioned a bunch of young people and two of them, Niko and Anaria, did the reading there.
In Philadelphia, we changed the format again. We thought, “What about having the young person speak to the adult?” We ended up with the narrator—again a young person—with the adult reflecting the species losses back to her. All of these losses—like the 9/11 memorials when they recite all of the names—the naming is so powerful.
Kari | I got the sense that it was very deliberate, but you just highlighted exactly how deliberate, what a process that was, which I think is so beautiful, powerful, and a really great idea.
Paula | Well, it did evolve. Each one is a little different. We tweaked them a little bit, too, by looking at the list of what’s currently endangered or extinct, and asked if there was some new species on the list? There is this huge list you can find online and you can just pull from it and there’s so much to choose from. Those lists are enormous. It’s absolutely terrifying. We share the Lament part—yes, very, very deliberate, evolving and powerful—right in the middle of the oratorio.
The Cascade – Lament involves children naming endangered and extinct species. This video shows the different ways that children made their statements in each of the three performances.
Endless Spring | The Art of Cameron Davis
The Emergent Universe Oratorio project represents a three-year collaboration between composer Sam Guarnaccia; his wife and executive producer, Paula Guarnaccia; and myself, a visual artist.
We immersed ourselves in the insights of readings addressing climate disruption, ecological collapse, and frameworks of courage for moving forward, trusting that there is a place for the arts to contribute. We came upon the insights of deep time thinking and evolutionary processes revealed in the book, Journey of the Universe, by Brian Swimme and Mary Evelyn Tucker. We realized that was the content to frame our project, and began a period of consultation with Mary Evelyn Tucker and her husband, John Grim, co-producers of the film, Journey of the Universe.
I created a body of 12 major paintings that I titled Endless Spring to accompany the oratorio premier.
The series began with imagery informed by ecological issues: Tar Sands Tonglen, Prayer for the Monarchs, The Meter of Eternity, a glacier elegy (Ursula Le Guin). Then, during late winter of 2013, snowdrop flowers became a personal metaphor for loss and renewal and the last half of the paintings included those images. Snowdrops emerge at the edge of retreating snow in Vermont’s early spring. They seemed like the perfect form to reflect both my despair of ecological collapse, and a notion of resilience. Endless Spring is also one of the many Buddhist terms for awakening. We need nothing less if we humans are to continue. In this way, I see the paintings as an invitation to celebrate our awakened belonging to Earth and the Cosmos. – Cameron Davis
Kari | When you encounter people who may not be as open-minded as children, or think as deeply about our future, or are unable to think in transformative terms, what would you say to someone who asks you how you define success with your project? How do you explain this project to people who wonder what’s in it for you?
Sam | These are such provoking and thoughtful questions that say so much about you and about the Kosmos community! Success with the project has been just being able to have the time to think and probe one’s insides, one’s heart, one’s emotions, and to express these things. Just the reward of being able to have the freedom, the choice, the privilege of being able to reach for something like this, to delve in and to try to evoke as much beauty as possible in a creative work, that is a huge success all by itself.
Kari | That addresses my next question. What do you hope the audience or listeners take with them after they experience your oratorio? So, we can consider that as one answer!
Paula | We always made sure that every program included the full libretto so that people could take it home. With one hearing, it does take a while to have things really enter and anchor inside. For people to have it in hand was really important—something that they could actually hold and take with them.

Kari | What does the future hold for the Emergent Universe Oratorio? I think the trip that you took to India recently might have something to do with that, too. Do you want to tell us what you were there to do?
Sam | We were invited by the International Big History Association organizers for their 2020 World Conference in India to create something like the oratorio for a South Asian-centered event. We were trying to integrate it with South Asian text and instrumental sounds to find a way to bring those together with Western music traditions as kind of a celebratory part of the conference, but also to have a portion of a piece—the movement of a larger piece is now what it seems to be—then go out and through India and maybe through the world as a cross-cultural or an intercultural expression of this great story.
Paula | The trip was really an orientation for us. It was really for us to learn about India; to meet musicians, scientists, educators, and writers; to figure out what can be done; and, if we were the right people, how it would fit together. We began to have a little inkling of an understanding about India.
Sam | As for the Emergent Universe Oratorio, there are additional explorations of further places and people to engage this piece with the possibility that one of those occasions might yield that really high-level recording that would be sufficient to become a soundtrack for a film. So there are opportunities … New York, possibly Nashville, California, Puerto Rico, and possibly even Cuba. So those are tentative feelers that are out for further performances of the oratorio.
Before we go, I would love to respond a little bit more deeply to your previous question, “What do you hope the audience/ listeners take with them after they experience the piece?”
Kari | Please do!
Sam | That raises the question we get asked the most, which is “How do we save ourselves? What is it going to take?” This is something that was being wrestled with at a conference we were invited to attend in Southern India, just a week ago. I was asked that question in Princeton, too, a few months ago. What is it going to take to turn the tide of human presence on the Earth so that we become—as a global society—caretakers, and not exploiters, of the planet? How to end war and create a just society that works for everybody? We’ve never had that. “What is it going to take?” and I said this:
To be present to, and to act in your world to what is in front of you; to inspire, educate, and exemplify a new way of being not just environmentally but in every mode of being; and to train your mind, heart, and body to fall in love, to fall in love deeply with every being, structure, and living system around you, to envision and feel the Earth as your child, as if she were your child, your beloved for whom you will and would do anything.
I honestly think that if we can look at each other and other living things and the Earth itself with the kind of love that we have for our children, our husbands, our loved ones, our parents for whom we would do anything … it all does come down to love. Of course, one has to really outline how that love gets shown; what is love really, but living for the other? That glimmer of a feeling, that spark of realizing that we have a living relationship of love, of interdependence and inter-being with the entire planet Earth and with all other humans and all other living things.
Kari | That was beautiful. I’m so glad you read that. Thank you Sam and Paula!
Sam and Paula | You are so welcome.
Companion Book List
1. Swimme, Brian Thomas and Mary Evelyn Tucker. Journey of the Universe (book and/or documentary film). New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010.
2. Hathaway, Mark and Leonardo Boff. The TAO of Liberation, Exploring the Ecology of Transformation. New York: Orbis Books, 2009. (This book is amazing—leaves nothing out!)
3. Jourdain, Robert. Music, the Brain, and Ecstasy. New York: AVON Books, 1997.
4. Berry, Thomas. The Great Work or Dream of the Earth. New York: Three Rivers Press, Random House, 1999.
5. Wall Kimmerer, Robin. Braiding Sweetgrass. Minneapolis, Milkweed Editions, 2013.
Links
Journey of the Universe site: https://www.journeyoftheuniverse.org/news/emergent-universe-oratorio-2018
American Teilhard Association:
Forum On Religion and Ecology, Yale
The Forum on Religion and Ecology Event http://fore.yale.edu/calendar/item/emergent-universe-oratorio/

About Kari Auerbach
Kari Auerbach is Music Editor at Kosmos Quarterly. She grew up all over the world learning about music and working as a jewelry designer. Currently living in New York City, she is social media director for several recording artists and a jewelry instructor for the New York Institute of Art and Design. She enjoys her many roles as a teacher, artist, mother, mentor, as well as advocating for artists, children, and a better, cleaner world.

About Sam Guarnaccia
Sam Guarnaccia—composer, classical guitarist; Master of Fine Arts—California Institute of the Arts; created and directed the guitar program of U-Denver’s renowned Lamont School of Music; instituted programs at Middlebury College and the University of Vermont, as Spanish scholar, performer, and composer.
Works include: a cycle of 9-peace songs for children; A Celtic Mass for Peace, Songs for the Earth with Celtic Spirituality author John Philip Newell; The Emergent Universe Oratorio (EUO), deeply influenced by Teilhard de Chardin and Thomas Berry—world premiere with new libretto and full orchestra, Cleveland, June 2017. With creative partner/producer Paula Guarnaccia—Major performance in planning with the Albany Pro Musica chorus/orchestra, at the RPI Experimental Media Performing Arts Center (EMPAC), Troy, New York, March, 2022.
New work in progress: Threshold Trilogy, for orchestra with chorus/soloists without words: voices of the Other-Than-Human world. (SGM) www.sam guarnaccia.com.
Photo | Maria Theresa Stadtmueller
The Earth is Doing Her Best
The Earth is Doing Her Best
image | Diane Barker, A rainbow over Dong Tsang Ritro Retreat Center in Nangchen | See more in Gallery 3
Welcome to Kosmos Spring Edition, 2019 | Climate, Consciousness, and Community
Spring is truly the season of hope. Fresh beauty budding-up on trees and bursting through hard ground, emerging against all odds. Irrepressible life. Renewal. A balm to our winter-weary hearts, and maybe an antidote to the despair that catches our breath away in unguarded moments.
Maybe it catches us walking in a woods bereft of birdsong, or hearing about another deadly tornado or wildfire, or imagining our children’s lives after we are gone—this sadness arising. At such times, it helps to look up at the sky or a beautiful flower, to return to slow conscious breathing, and to feel the Earth, above, below, and within us – striving to live. Tender gratitude wells up for all the Earth has given us and those we love. The Earth is always doing the best she can, but it’s getting harder.
I remember, as a child, riding in a car and noticing the fascinating variety of insects whose lives came to an abrupt halt on our windshield. When we stopped for gas, the attendant had to clean the bug splatter off the glass with a squeegee. Today, I can drive for hours on the highway and the windshield remains spotless. Where are the bugs? I learn that the total biomass of insects is decreasing by about 2.5% per year. At this rate, there will be hardly any left in my children’s lifetime. As the insects go, so too the birds, and pollination of flowers and crops. We know this.
When did you first feel ‘at one’ with nature’s penetrating presence and mystery? Were you a child, enmeshed in the strange drone of cicadas on a warm summer day? Was it the first time you witnessed the glittering ocean or the arc of a shooting star? That expansion that suddenly bloomed in your chest revealed your true nature as an essential note in the symphony of creation—not just a drop of water in the ocean, but ocean-water itself.
This stuff of creation we are made from requires something from us now. Animals of the world, trees and flowers, minerals deep in the Earth, already know their true nature, how to be. We have forgotten. The species with the most gifts, the most to give, has forgotten its place in the order of things, has forgotten about stewardship, awe, and grace.
This April 20-23, the time of Passover, Easter, and Earth Day, we gather together as a family in a small town in Pennsylvania, to remember our gifts. The Kosmos Climate, Consciousness, and Community Summit is our opportunity to look into each other’s eyes and recognize our true nature, to share what we have learned, and to carry precious seeds of hope and resilience back to the places we come from.
We will not be alone. Our brothers and sisters at Findhorn Community in Scotland will be sharing the journey in tandem, and streaming to other hubs like ours, clarion voices: Charles Eisenstein, Vandana Shiva, Bill McKibben, and many more. And we will be convening with dear friends in the thriving Transition Town community of Media, PA.
This edition of Kosmos Quarterly touches the themes of these important gatherings: Oneness, grief and loss, gratefulness, hope, preparedness, stewardship, resilience. This collection of works is less about what we ‘know’ about climate, than what we feel, and less about what to ‘do’, than how to be. For, until we remember our at-one-ment with the Earth and all beings, our actions will have little restorative impact.
We thank Findhorn’s Climate Change and Consciousness (CCC19) planners, especially Convener, Stephanie Mines, for contributing to this edition of Kosmos Quarterly. Read Stephanie’s Keynote and see how gifts can flow through us when we open our hearts to the call of the Earth.
Let these stories, essays, poems, and works of art be signposts, reminders to our children that many of us woke-up and started to face the consequences of our actions, that we began, at last, to remember why we are here, and to slowly repair the Earth in thousands of small places, and that maybe—if their own children someday read these words—we did it in time.
In Gratitude,
Rhonda Fabian, Kosmos Editor
May the day be well and the night be well. May the midday hour bring happiness, too.
In every minute and every second, may the day and night be well.
By the blessing of the Triple Gem, may all things be protected and safe.
May all beings born in each of the four ways live in a land of purity.
– Buddhist chant

About Rhonda Fabian
Rhonda Fabian is Editor of Kosmos Quarterly. She is also a founding partner of Immediacy Learning, an educational media company that has created more than 2000 educational programs, impacted 30 million+ learners, and garnered numerous awards. Ms. Fabian is an ordained member in the Order of Interbeing, an international Buddhist community founded by her teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh.























