Are we the L(ast) generation? This thought is disturbing

Last Monday afternoon, as I sat next to a giant, berry-colored sage plant, a hummingbird flew so close to me that I could feel the wind blowing off its wings. Then, as if to say thanks for all the sweetened water this year, thanks for growing this tall plant with thin, trumpet-shaped flowers, it swirled in front of me a full 360 degrees, its head at the pivot and its little bird’s butt swiveling around. .

With the natural world, you have to be there to win. I’ll probably never feel a breath of hummingbird air again. It only happened because I sat still long enough, and wasn’t deep into my phone.

Earlier this summer, while I was swimming in my daily lake, I saw in the distance what I thought was a muskrat, so I quickly turned back from my destination not wanting to cross paths, but when I looked back, there were four muskrats, and when Looking closely, it became clear that they were four otters that looked a bit like small Loch Ness creatures swimming with a distinctive rolling motion. I swam faster and they swam faster, right behind me, watching to catch a glimpse of the huge swimmer in front of them.

Then they dived and shot at me and with the same up-and-down rolling walk they headed up the hill into the nearby swamp. My heart was pounding, and my head reminded me that this was something that would only happen once. That moment when you hold onto nature, that other world beyond the pavement, the advanced technology, and the harsh, harsh cars we drive around in.

I recently came across a new term, “Generation L”… for the last generation. Are we the last generation, have we burned so many planetary bridges, corrupted so many systems, that at some point our blue orb will still be here, but unwelcome to unprofitable swimmers like me? I don’t know the answer to that, but the idea is troubling.

It will never be a planet forever, we have less control over it than we know. But to shorten it ourselves, and miss those magical moments, is unforgivable.

There is an area of ​​thought that one of the reasons we are here is to appreciate creation, and that the Creator enjoys our appreciation of the world. It’s a relationship, back and forth. Every now and then, there’s that moment of awe, that washes over you like a miracle bath. Every cell in our body is alert, our eyes are open and our ears are open. These days, I push myself harder to be present, to appreciate and absorb the artistic presentation of the natural world.

Another story. On a trip to the Grand Tetons, my wish was to get a glimpse and photo of an otter. The flight passed quickly, and we did not see any sights. Until the last day when we left the park, something in the river near the road caught my eye. We pulled over, tiptoed out of the car and sat next to the flowing water, watching and listening as an adult otter split a fish for its large family of pups. We sat transfixed, able to hear the sound of the fish meat being cut into edible pieces. I’ll probably see this once in my life.

So, if there’s hope in all of this, it’s that we’re here now. Respecting something we are not responsible for. Help us love this place a little more. He pushed us to consider our options every day.

Will what I do help or harm the natural world? Will we vote for those who view our nation’s actions as they relate to the livability of our world? Will we seek peace, so that all our human energy can focus on the truly important problems around us?

Opening ourselves to more moments of awe of nature is what will lead us.

Chris Potter lives in Southaven, Minnesota.