“One thorn of experience is worth a whole wilderness of warning.” ~ James Russell Lowell.

I have been thinking about flooding this week.  Not surprising really, as once more my neighborhood and many more in South Florida were inundated with torrential, persistent, rainfall.  The type of rain that makes you want to stay in bed, listening to the thrumming of the rain on the window as you watch the wind whip the branches around in a mad dervish.

The rain of the city where I was born (Manchester, UK) I remember as a persistent dampness, not so much heavy raindrops as a pervasive fine moisture, that didn’t stop.  It was in Jamaica that I would first feel raindrops that seemed as large as golf balls, and as cold as ice, pounding down from the convection rainclouds that build from a whisp of gossamer to a thundering tower of dense grayness.  In South Florida in the summer months, the rain echoes the tropical downpours of my Jamaican childhood.  But in November it is different.  This time when the rain falls, instead of momentarily cooling down the sizzling humidity of a summer’s day,  in the fall the temperature remains low.  And the floods build, as storm drains are unable to handle the runoff from a solid day’s waterworks.

I learned about the ‘flooding’ technique as a strategy to treat PTSD and other mental health disorders.  In order to help someone overcome phobias they are exposed to that which they fear all at once, triggering their fight or flight response, until either they exhaust the response, or they implement their self-calming techniques and overcome the fear.  This is naturally very triggering. Imagine having claustrophobia and being forced to stay in a confined area indefinitely.  Every instinct is telling you to get out of there, but you are not permitted to leave.  As it sounds, this is not appropriate for everyone, and must be managed carefully.

This is in contrast to another method, known as systematic desensitization.  With this technique, the person is gradually exposed, over time, to increasing amounts or time with that which they fear. During the exposure they practice their calming and relaxation strategies to gain control over their triggered response.  With subsequent longer exposure they gradually learn to overcome those responses.   

I have been thinking about these strategies as we look at more and more world events that should be triggering outrage, unity, and a plan to end violent conflict.  But just as the therapies described above are designed to tamp down those responses, it appears we are becoming desensitized, able to turn away and think of something pleasant instead.  Whether we are flooded with sights of children dying, bombs dropping, or buildings obliterated we are numb, unable to respond.  Is this healthy? Or is it a survival mechanism.

Meanwhile climate events are sending up flares of alarm.  Hottest summer ever! Most rainfall in a twenty-four-hour period in recorded history! Hurricane Otis off the coast of Mexico that ramped up from a Tropical Depression to a Cat 5 hurricane in 72 hours! Such headlines are becoming common place in the 21^st century.

And yet we still appear to be waiting for a bigger sign that the world as a whole has to respond powerfully to these warnings.  Climate health affects human health, not only through the obvious ways when lives are lost due to flooding, extreme heat, or other catastrophic events. Pollution affects cardiovascular and respiratory health. Weather events can increase the spread of infectious diseases.  Floods can spread waterborne illnesses.  And as usual, those areas on the lower socioeconomic scale, those people living in densely populated areas, are going to be affected the most.

In March of this year, scientists in the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change issued their ‘Final Warning’, calling for countries to ‘fast-track’ efforts to achieve net-zero carbon emissions. What have governments done since then? What are we doing to demand that changes be made? We are so consumed by our personal problems that we do not see our planet burning in the distance.

This Friday morning I admit that I too have become too comfortably numb, assuming someone else will solve the world’s problems.  I do my small part, recycling and reusing here and there. In my house you will only find one piece of furniture that I bought brand new.  There is a lady who is the ombudsman in the College where I work, who, at many graduation ceremonies, would lead the audience in chanting this: “I am only one. I can’t do everything, but I can do something. And what I do, I will do, for the good of all.’  If everyone thought this way, we could accomplish great things.  As my activist friend would tell you, contact your congress people; sign petitions; join organizations! Do something!

Have a wonderful weekend, Family!

One Love!

Namaste.