Forums General GENERAL How has climate change impacted a place you love?

How has climate change impacted a place you love?

I’d like to work on a crowd-sourced article with anyone who wants to contribute. We’re calling for personal essays right now in the Creator’s Community on how climate change has transformed a place you love, but if you’d perfer to write just a few sentences or a paragraph about it, please do so here.

This will be set-up like the article below. Please respond here or email me directly at emma@matadornetwork.com. Remember to tell us exactly where you’re talking about and to use your sensory details.

Example:

https://matadornetwork.com/life/protests-changed-us/

You can also check out Nicole’s recent essay on how climate change has transformed her hometown of Durango, here: https://matadornetwork.com/life/climate-change-transformed-southwest-colorado-place-love/

 

View Profile 2017-02-08 08:26:51 PST

Creating A Superhero

When I woke up today, it was kind of tough.
Yawn!
I stretched and I tossed, sunk back down to think about stuff.
?
My imagination was still dreaming, as it was waking up from sleep.
As I thought about what I would like to do today, and also, what is expected of me.
Whether there was good weather out there, or not, was the temperature low or high from the
heat.
Was the thermometer covered with icicles?
SssssZZZZssssss!
Could you fry an egg on the street?
Don’t tread on me!
Would I want to build a military sandcastle base?
Or a cool igloo palace place?
Maybe I will build a pit and throw up upon it, a mound of leaves?
(Oh I see), with mud down my face, does that sound like me?
I could build a mountain to ascend, or descend, a fort to defend, sword in hand, (Pretend.)
Whatever the case may be, I could really get into it, fit through it on my hands and knees!
Oh yes, now I am waking up. The simple things atmosphere brings, feelings and those things
that are very dear to me. There’s something about this Earth, that feels like something more,
something important, so I think,
Nature’s emotions, I feel are like a painting to my senses, full of fragrances and color, offering
variety and dimensions.
The weather and the bloom reminds me of a mood, especially as the climate changes season,
and our feelings emerge renewed.

Rejuvenating the sleepy landscape too with reason, like a
phoenix’s return, out of the blue. Weather sometimes shows its spirit, like when the sun shines
again after a monsoon.                                                                                                                                                                                                                     Telling us to no longer fear it. What else can it do?
When the wild wind blows, earth’s motions sometimes shows a funny bit of attitude. Ever had
chase fest for a runaway balloon, that’s going places, underused,                                                                                                                                            under benches, high fiving
branches, becoming a star to the onlooking masses?                                                                                                                                                              Convenient how it knows, that we have
each other for a hug, of gratitude undercover-glued
tight against the squall like a tether, having a ball with you.                                                                                                                                                              Can you feel the love? Convenient how it knows, when your teeth needs a bug
when you’re convertable-ing
it to the mall in a VW. A curious thing indeed, the wind, as it rifles
through your papers, thorough and true                                                                                                                                                                                            and takes a how do you do, peruse, at how you, “how
you do in” , on your way home from school.                                                                                                                                                                                           It may breeze through a good book like a critic
looking for something cool to lick.                                                                                                                                                                                                       Acting as a reactor, it is definitely a factor, it could be a
mysterious force’s comedy actor,                                                                                                                                                                                                             a punchline to a joke, that sometimes seem right on cue.
Giving your ribs a good poking too. It makes me laugh, for example, to hear my kite buddy
cheer, for height and for sheer, and then he gets it, gets it right up there, almost free and clear.
Just when the kite begins to go where eagles only dare, it plummets below, it veers, right, after
squirrels, cones and needles, skulls and crossbones, party favors. After freefall it gets stuck in a
tree, belonging to that of our neighbors, like an imp was pulling strings.
The atmosphere can be over there or conveniently near, as I look upon God’s creation, my eyes
could begin to tear.
The emotion of nature is like poetry, a tongue reciting its truth, with photographic memory,
speaking the laws with living proof, as we see, feel and dream it extra sensory. Some think I am
too young to understand so deeply, or look for Life’s greater things.
Why do I give out a hug, then, when I want to give someone a little bit of Spring?                                                                                                                    Well within my grasp, don’t you think? Let’s face it everyone admires inner beauty.
To me, there is only one planet in the universe and it is she. Without her there is no place for us
to be about her, and no place for us to just plain BE.
Let’s see.

She is exactly far enough away from the Sun to please everyone. While not cooking
us some.
Whoa! Lets watch the imagery MrFernando, please!
She keeps the Moon at a distance, too, not to be mean, but I mean she keep the floods from our shores, too instinctively for a coincidence to be.
I wish I could show the Earth how we should all feel about her, that she is everything we could
want and more.
For her benefit I could wish for superpowers.

You know, I would wish them for us all.                                                                                                                                                                                              For her I never want a
finale. I want to answer the call.
I would help the air by blowing smoke into outer space. Not like the teens who blow it in my
face.
Bok Choy!
For the farmer I would bring rain, precipitation to wash upon delicious leafy greens.
Oooooh!
I would open the clouds just like they were a tap, with a wave of my hands, stop drought with a
thunderous clap, cause a streak of lightning just because I can.
I would make the water the purest, the tastiest, I would take hydration to the maximus!
Nothing but the best for us, for the food we harvest into healthy snacks.
The Arctic needs more cold to keep the temperature well below.
Zero would be the problems when my frosty breath takes hold.
I would use my lungs, my will, my color changing lips, to solidify the icebergs, fortify their length
and width.
It is my pleasure, my treasuring, just the nature of things, taking their course, the power
coursing through my veins of course from love’s mysterious source.
It would be like a tornado on the tundra. Science meeting alchemy, like liquid nitrogen caught in
a breeze.
Where responsibility meets a good deed, and nature meets with sorcery, haha indeed!

From Antarctica to the Arctic Sea, I would do a solid for the life that thrives on the world’s icy
shelf. As far as the eye could see, people will see me not just thinking of myself. Even though I
wouldn’t mind an icee, or a slurpee, or a magic elf…..a stereo, surround soun…..ahem, sorry
about that..
I would clear the old growth forests with the back of my hand, chopping like a kung fu master,
the bark, stump, branch, the whole botanical span , and i’d pick up the trash just scattered about
and i’d put that sh…put it in a can.

I could take away the fuel for an out of control blaze, and give it to the elderly for warmth on cold
winter nights and cold winter days.
It would also ensure to the animals a lifelong place they can run and jump and also graze. But
no cruising please, it would be weird to run animal’s vehicle plates. I’m just sayin’.

Next I will place baby saplings with very special care, do magic breath blowgun landscaping like
it was a dartboard or canvas that once was bare.

I will bless it with new family members, to faun over as part of their grove. Undercover branches
will weather the weather, watching out for their new treasure troves. They will sway and swing,
elementals with windstroked wings,                                                                                                                                                                                                   blocking out the glare and sting of the Sun like sunscreen. That’s what I call a Family, Tree.
Sentinels with shades, scenery canvasing the scene. Or? Yeah I stick with what I said
previously.
Between Earth and her inhabitants does it really matter, when you really think, which is the hand
and which is the glove, when we fit so comfortably? Not to mention, speaking of hands, not
biting the one that feeds….and hands of time and such things…. When we are as one together,
does it matter whatsoever which is artist and which artistry?                                                                                                                                                       We are all here for a reason with a
reason to be.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            The season of Life is God’s canvas and the Earth and We (His masterpiece.)

As a kid I dream of innocence, and things the way they really should be.                                                                                                                                      The Earth I feel I know
her well, and the many ways she reveals her face to me. In the foamy waves that bubbly kiss at
my face. The dustdevil minitornadoes
that entertain me when i’m bored with theatre of debris misplaced.                                                                                                                                            Yes, and all the other wonders that have caused the crowds to stare.                                                                                                                                         The flocks of show off
birds who are snychronized swimming the air.
She really was created by God to be like a Mother to us bunch of cosmic orphanings.                                                                                                               A stage that cradles life expectantly, a light shining down like a spotlight (Our Mother beaming proud in
her continuous pregnancy.)                                                                                                                                                                                                                       I can see this without any polls, without money changing hands, or
whispering adults or former Oasis turned to desert sand.

Not last and not least but enough for this read. I will use no superpowers, just sensibility. I will
ask our congresswomen and congressmen to clear out the debris from cobblestone streets and
stony brook, from field and stream. The toxins and spills and dioxide that crooks driven by greed
reward us while they reap. Cheap Mr. Krabs like fiends.
I will ask the grown ups, though, not to worry. If I can clean my room. They too can get things
done, too, after doing their homework and addressing everyday needs. Now all of this has made
me thirsty for a crystal clear, tall cool drink of bee…umm water. Time to sip a think of healthy
attitude and the variety of creation’s atmosphere too. Everyday I learn more, that she, Mother
Earth, she was created for me, and in a way, I for she. As I journey and grow and experience
experiencing, wherever I go, she’s there for me, bringing me ever nearer to the greatest of
things.

To Be.

 

View Profile 2017-02-08 14:53:23 PST

Hey Jude, because this is a full personal essay, submit it to Matador Network through the “submit work to editors” button on your dashboard. For this thread, I was looking for just 3 or 4 sentences. Could you sum up your experience above in a paragraph? If so, drop it in this thread. Good luck submitting the above essay to Matador, I hope you do.

View Profile 2017-02-08 15:11:54 PST

To sum up my children’s book, I could not bare to look upon an animal who has lost his/her home and wonders what happened in its simple and unselfish existence. We ought not be spending money on wasteful space exploration, looking for something we have already found. We need to invest in the here and now, it is all we have and it is enough. It is time the strong stand up against our real enemy, apathy.

View Profile 2017-02-08 15:20:12 PST