The Year That Came Next

The Year That Came Next

        2020 was the year that the world came to a stop.  It was a time when we all paused, and experienced a collective eery silence.  We all experienced uncertainty, pain, fear, apathy, hope, and cycles of disappointment mixed with despair.  We as a whole felt a deeper form of exhaustion even as we were forced to look at ourselves deeper at more thoroughly than we perhaps ever had.  We saw the flaws in our way of life, both on a broad sense, as well as within our personal spheres.  We debated them, simmered in them, and most of all, we waited.  We waited to find out what was next.  Would we reboot as before, as though nothing happened?  What of these thoughts and reflections and revelations we'd gained?

    For many of us, the exhaustion persists.  We now rectify the things we know with things we know to want, against the demands of a world that's desperately struggling to piece itself back together - in some ways fighting against the inevitable change, hoping to be the same as it was - and in some ways, evolving into something different, wiser perhaps from this newfound knowledge and experience.  The year of reflection and waiting rolled into a year of desperately playing catch up, while still being torn between what was, what could be, and what cannot be.  The pace of life feels more frenetic than ever, as though we attempt to cram two summers' worth of life into a single summer. The relaxed pace of reflection that was found in the year of waiting has spurned a desperate need for something.  While intangible, the frantic pace of immediacy permeates everything.

    2021 was supposed to be the year everything recovered.  The year everything was better.  When it became clear that it could not be recovered, that better was only a relative state, there was a collective effort to forcibly make "better" the highest bar it could be - filled with the most everything there could be.

    This summer's course demonstrated a conscious effort to stymie these trends.  Coming off the heels of unexpected disappointment and sudden changes in plans, the student projects drifted from an Africa focus, to one more central to the student.  They focused inward, to our surroundings.  Just as the pandemic slowed so many things down and drew our attention to ourselves and our immediate environment, so too was there a dramatic shift in focus to student's surrounding environments, rather than those in far off places.  While a love for and focus on far off places is inspirational, this shift highlighted the local aspect of conservation that can easily be overlooked in favor of more exotic and romantic ideals and locations.  The pandemic-forced focus on one's surroundings generated a lot of really interesting and insightful projects that saw students looking deeper into their own environment, and even forging connections that they had otherwise not made.  They saw their surroundings and thought about connections within their own communities, neighborhoods, and regions. They thought about their place in their environment.  While Project Dragonfly focuses heavily on the community aspect of conservation, it is easier to see connections and challenges often as an outsider, rather than focus on our own connections and part to play in our own environment and with our own resources.  

    At the beginning of summer I focused on microscale observations: petals on flowers, the wings of a bee.  I allowed my frame of reference to expand to highlight the play of light on rosebushes, as well as the colors of roses as they gently bobbed in the wind.  I noted noises beyond my immediate surroundings, but largely focused on the things I could see.  My reflections later in the summer showed a much broader focus.  Instead of watching part of a tree, I watched an entire forest.  I observed colors showing off brilliantly, the play of light highlighting them as it played across the sky.  I watched how the water rushed in the stream, and marveled at its depth, which was lower than usual.  I noticed things on a much broader scale, taking in not just my immediate surroundings, but the entire environment surrounding me.  I reflected on the changes that were happening, and thought about what the coming winter might bring this landscape.  I thought about the recent fires and water shortages, and briefly worried over the effects of climate change. 

    These broad observations show a definitive shift in scale, as well as a greater focus on how things change, and how they interact with one another.  They also remind me that no matter how heavy the topic might be - climate change, deforestation, human encroachment, there are many people who are passionate and interested in helping.  There are many ways to be part of that environment, and to support it.  These moments also remind me that its also important to step away some times from the deeper meaning, and also just enjoy the view.  Because it's really around us.