Kristen Cheri Weiss

Writer, Editor, Ecologist, Connector of Ideas

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Don’t Not Panic – mixed messaging is detrimental to climate change action

February 21, 2019February 21, 2019 / Kristen / Leave a comment

What should we do when confronted with scenarios of extreme storms, loss of entire coastlines, and millions of climate refugees? Panic? Or stay calm and collected?

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Desert dwellers. 🏜️

Gratitude for recent months of exploring a bounty of color, texture, emotion, and connection. Gratitude for the dear friends who have helped me navigate the shadows, and the new people who have entered my life and enriched it to a new level (I'm looking at you @steph_on_bass). Gratitude for hard life lessons that feel like punches to the gut, and moments of bliss that are too ephemeral to be fully absorbed - moments to be enjoyed like soft rays of sunshine in the late afternoon. Gratitude for growth, and shedding, and trying out damp, new wings. For capturing and sharing moments with playfulness and lightheadedness. For learning to harness my voice, for letting go of the things and people that can't be or don't want to be held onto. Gratitude for each breath, whether filled with pain or with joy. There are only so many breaths. My commitment to myself is to try and witness each and every breath, to feel fully and express fully and love fully because that's what my soul craves. It's a lifelong journey, and I hope the wanderlust never fades.

"For such small creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through love."

I am so incredibly imperfect.

Connection: a poem for Feb 1st, written quickly and from the heart

I’m sitting just above the surging waters of a post-storm creek that flows through a canyon outside of the town of Ojai, California. I splurged on a two-day vacation for myself, a self-imposed retreat immersed in nature (from the glamping comfort of an RV) where I could practice a bit more presence, and perhaps chip away at some of the residue left by a constant buildup of internal dialogue. The creek, currently a river, is swift, navigating around rocks, boulders, and an abundance of vegetative debris. After several minutes, I begin to lose myself in the mesmerizing hiss of the whitewater, just a little. I try to follow the flow of water in real-time with my eyes, but the speed is too fast for my brain to keep up with. I envy those innumerable droplets of water, journeying at high speed without a thought about where their path might lead. How freeing it would be, to flow like a single droplet, smashing confidently against rocks without fear, no pain, breaking apart and reforming in each moment, in each millimeter of canyon traveled. I want to be a droplet carried in the weightless flood of billions of other droplets, gushing forth without reserve, the pace set by nature and fate and a million little previous happenings that led to this moment. And this moment. And this moment. A clear, indiscriminate droplet, that any second might evaporate into atmospheric nothingness—not disappeared, but merged with a universal flow of energy.

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