This Beautiful Earth

Originally published on May 2nd 2018

"What’s the point of going to school if the world doesn’t listen to the educated?"

We have deluded ourselves.

Somewhere along the way, we decided that intelligence meant domination. That human cognition placed us at the top of some imagined hierarchy—the “Great Chain of Being.” We became convinced that our thoughts and feelings are what matter most, that everything else is secondary, lesser, expendable.

But intellect isn’t measured by destruction. Having a “big brain” doesn’t give us the right to spread like a virus, consuming everything in our path.

The Illusion of Human Supremacy

Orcas and other dolphins have their own languages, with different pods speaking in unique dialects and showing distinct cultural preferences—even in their food choices.

Sharks detect electrical currents. Insects see ultraviolet light. Cows mourn their dead, crying for days after losing their young.

Yet we persist in dismissing non-human intelligence.

"How we contrive tests of intelligence may tell us more about the sensory abilities of animals than their intellectual abilities."

We build tests that validate our own superiority while ignoring forms of intelligence that don’t look like ours. Take the recent viral video of a fish using rocks to break open a clam—clear evidence of problem-solving and tool use. The response? “Well, he didn’t make the tool, so it doesn’t count.”

Cool, cool, cool.

By that logic, neither does the chimp that makes a hammer, the orangutan that fashions a whistle from leaves to ward off predators, or the gorilla that uses a stick to measure water depth.

The problem isn’t whether these animals are intelligent. The problem is our arrogance in assuming they aren’t.

But even if everything on Earth were nothing more than mindless cogs in a machine, keeping the planet’s balance intact, what right would we have to destroy it?

"I would feel more optimistic about a bright future for man if he spent less time proving that he can outwit nature and more time tasting her sweetness and respecting her seniority."

The Reality of Climate Change

I am in awe of this planet every day.

I feel blessed to witness its beauty—to stand beneath towering forests, to breathe in the ocean air, to see life’s astonishing complexity unfold before me.

And yet, I am disgusted.

Not just by the corporations bleeding the Earth dry, but by the people who defend them. By those who throw their plastic bottle in a recycling bin and pat themselves on the back as if they’ve saved the world.

Yes, the burden falls on corporations. But let’s be honest—individuals aren’t powerless. We make choices every single day that either contribute to destruction or push for change.

So why do people lose their minds over paper straws? Why do they fight plastic bag bans? Why are they outraged at the mere suggestion of bringing a reusable bottle instead of buying case after case of plastic-wrapped water?

Because they’re lazy.

And because they don’t want to acknowledge the truth: our species is the only one on this planet that takes endlessly without giving back.

The Cost of Our Greed

Since 1990, we’ve lost 420 million hectares of forest to land conversion.

Between 2000 and 2010, agricultural expansion alone accounted for 40% of tropical deforestation.

And it isn’t just trees we’re killing—it’s entire ecosystems.

Forests are not just landscapes; they are homes. To fungi, insects, birds, mammals. They nourish the rivers that run through them, feeding the life within. And those rivers? They flow to the ocean, the very thing that keeps us alive.

But we’ve disrupted even that.

Twenty-five percent of rivers no longer reach the ocean because of the dams we’ve built.

Meanwhile, the oceans themselves are suffocating. The Great Barrier Reef is dying. Garbage islands float across the sea. Pesticides and agricultural runoff poison marine life. Plastics break down into microplastics that now rain from the sky.

And still, we act like this is someone else’s problem.

The Distraction Machine

I write a lot about politics, but if I’m being honest? I don’t give a shit about politicians.

They are a collection of detached, wealthy frauds who say whatever they need to in order to keep their grip on power. They don’t care. They never have. They have us at each other’s throats, fighting over nonsense while the world crumbles beneath our feet.

We care more about space than we do about our own oceans. The one thing that keeps us alive.

But sure, let’s argue about party lines.

Nature Is the Only Thing That Matters

I’ve been screaming this into the void since I was a child. Asking my parents why we—the supposed intellectuals—built the world this way. The answer?

"That’s just the way it is."

Bullshit.

Maybe if more people spent time outside, they’d notice what’s happening. Maybe they’d see for themselves that the western Monarch butterfly is nearly extinct. Maybe they’d care enough to replace their manicured lawns with native wildflowers and milkweed.

Maybe they’d realize that every choice we make—what we buy, what we eat, how we vote, how we live—determines the fate of this planet.

And yet, here we are.

The free market doesn’t care about life.

It doesn’t care that lemurs are almost extinct. It doesn’t care that coral reefs are vanishing. It doesn’t care that topsoil is disappearing, or that the Amazon is being gutted.

We are running out of time.

Finding Hope in the Wild

I don’t know what else to say except this:

Fall in love with nature.

Go outside. Walk through a forest, stand by a river, climb a mountain. Let yourself be humbled by the enormity of it all. See the world for what it is—an interconnected web of life, each piece dependent on the next.

Science discovers something new every day that reinforces this:

• Plants communicate through pheromones.

• Fungi form vast underground networks that connect trees, funneling nutrients where they’re needed most.

• Animals form symbiotic relationships, like clownfish and anemones, crocodiles and plovers, jellyfish and Ravalli fish.

• Even rats feel regret.

Everything works together—except us.

And that’s the greatest tragedy of all.

We Do Not Own This Planet

I don’t believe there’s room for human arrogance anymore.

We don’t own this Earth. We don’t have dominion over it. If anything, it’s a miracle we exist here at all. Sometimes I wonder if we were put here by accident—some cosmic mistake, an anomaly in nature’s otherwise perfect design.

Because if we truly evolved here, it was the only mistake evolution ever made.

If you’ve ever stood on the edge of an untouched lake, deep in the woods, or high on a mountain, you know. You’ve felt that stillness. That insignificance.

That undeniable truth: we are not special.

And maybe, just maybe, if more people understood that, we’d finally stop acting like we are.