Climate Connection

Tom’s story is a meditation on the greater culture of care for the earth, resources, ourselves. Far from a novel idea, indigenous groups have been long touting this simple truth: we are not separate from the natural world—we’re stitched into it. Somewhere along the way, that truth got buried beneath concrete and convenience. We began to think of nature as something "out there"—a destination or a backdrop, rather than the very system that sustains our lungs, our food, our quietest joys. But the forests we clear, the rivers we dam, the species we lose—they are not external tragedies. They are personal losses, whether we choose to feel them or not.

Our reconnection starts with presence, education. When we introduce ourselves, our children to the natural world starting with something as simple as a creek. When we let them watch tadpoles dance in the shallows, we’re doing more than entertaining them—we’re building a future steward. When we grow a garden, or walk slowly through a patch of woods, or even pause to watch the wind moving through trees, we’re letting nature teach us how to slow down, how to listen, how to belong. These simple acts don’t just nourish the earth; they heal something inside us, too.

The climate crisis is not only a crisis of shifting climate—it’s a crisis of relationship. Indigenous cultures across the planet call for a return to our roots. We have forgotten that we’re part of a larger web, and that web is fraying. More than policies and pledges, what’s needed is a cultural shift—a remembering. Indigenous knowledge has long held that the earth is kin, not commodity. Modern science is catching up, but what we need most now is collective humility, and a return to care. Real change will come not just from innovation, but from intimacy—with land, with water, with all living things.