︎ zazen bozo ︎


︎︎︎ July 10th, 2023 ︎︎︎
There were a number of stones I placed up on the bank. I thought they might be safe.

I walked down in the rain to look and the water was at least a foot over where I put them. 

The water was loud as a storm and there was almost a noise between thunder and bowling: it was rocks tumbling and knocking together beneath the dark water.

There’s an enormous piece of quartz down the river that I intend to bring home. I hope I can find it once the storm passes.

These are the moments where climate anxiety really wakes up in me and mine. When you see instagram stories of friends down the road working with their neighbors to lay down stones and chunks of disintegrated road in the vague hope that their foundation won’t get swept into the Winooski river. 

This is the worst storm since Irene in 2010.
I can’t help but wonder what sorts of storms my children will see. 
It’s easy to feel hopeless about it, climate change is big and bad and strange and open ended. 

If I had to choose between rolling the dice on my kids life here, in Vermont, with us across, the next hundred years, and, say, my grandparent’s life? Man. I’d choose here. Easily. I’d choose flooding and food insecurity and refugees and Donald Trump over the Red Army any day of the week. 

 

Bozo