in a biological sense, this is the simplest way to answer the question, “what happens to us when we die?” however in a more poetic sense, it offers a strange new method of contemplating one’s own mortality. a derivative of this word is “decompositionist,” which means “an advocate or supporter of decomposition, e.g., that of an empire, confederation, etc.”

i am a decompositionist, however not in the political sense. i do not spend my time planning coups or meditating on the economic factors that lead to the falling of the iron curtain (although i have yet to fully form an opinion on the global anti-imperial movements which i see discussed often in my twitter thread).

rather, i spend more than the average portion of my week thinking about physical decomposition. that is the process by which flesh disintegrates into its most elemental components. cycling the energy and nutrients which once sustained it back into the soil from whence they originated. it seems odd for a 21-year-old to spend considerable hours a day pondering the biological processes involved with decay, yet i cannot help myself. 

it seems contradictory to write an essay about decomposition as it is quite literally the opposite of what i am doing as i write this piece. composition. decomposition. to create. to decay. to give life, to lose life. 

i stare at the apple core sitting on my desk, sticky remnants of my harried breakfast, and think about how in two months, hopefully, it will be gone. in two months, hopefully this version of myself will be too. i probably won’t be though. however, that doesn’t stop me from trying to evolve. i think about it when i volunteer at weekly compost collections on friday mornings, and i ponder it when i toss the single use plastic lined cup from my morning coffee. 

despite my mother’s misgivings, i know i am not the only one on earth who shares these sentiments. indeed it would be self-centered to think so, but such is the nature of humans. in her critically acclaimed essay, “the cutting edge of time: erosion of home,” terry tempest williams explains, “my delight in being forgotten is rooted in the belief that i don’t matter in the larger scheme of things, only that i tried my best to be a good human, failing repeatedly, but trying again with the soul-settling knowledge that my body will return to the desert.” i relate intensely to williams’ sentiments, i do not fear the violent majesty of the environments around me, instead i marvel at them, allowing their sheer danger to humble me again and again and again. 

i eagerly anticipate my return to the soil. it takes every bit of willpower i have not to turn my self-proclaimed quotable saying into my twitter bio, however that would probably worry my friends a little too much. in fact most of my friends and family are uncomfortable with my fascination with decomposition. it is apparently not socially acceptable to romanticize one’s own decay, although the popularity of hozier’s music would indicate otherwise. it is not necessarily that i am eager to die, in fact it is not that at all. it is simply that i find a deep and almost indescribable comfort in knowing that one day my pains and worries will have dissolved into micronutrients in soil, feeding that which is so old my lifetime was a mere blink of an eye in its longevity. 

in a way this is my own deeply personal form of existentialism. in a similar vein, mary shelley expressed her own sorrows and beliefs about the position of her own life through her most famous work, “frankenstein.” with a gruesome tale about the violence of childhood neglect and the dangers of necromancy, shelley birthed science fiction, an entirely new genre of literature at the time. shelley was a woman far more educated in the intricacies of both decomposition and composition than i am, yet i cannot help but compare my convictions to hers.

shelley was 18 years old when she crafted what would become her most famous novel, and i was the same age when i first discovered my fascination. in a way, we are two sides of the same coin. while we both are eager to create new life from death, hers is decidedly unnatural, whereas mine is as natural as it can possibly get.

in response to the trauma of losing of her child, she sought to defy nature, bring back the dead, and fight against the very laws of the earth itself. victor frankenstein, and in a manner of speaking, shelley herself, sought to steal that last lingering light of life from the dead, if only to savor its warmth for a moment more. i, on the other hand, seek the exact opposite. i desire to open my hand, releasing those tiny sparkles back into the wild.

although i will not be able to see it, i have a strangely strong conviction that it will happen as i hope. disagreements notwithstanding, shelley and i share a common fear of, enamoration with, and disillusionment with death. 

i wonder, if i had the chance to offer, would she like to decompose with me? 

but soon, i might not be able to.

each year, these beaches get smaller and smaller due to sea level rise. crane beach in ipswich, massachusetts, is the most popular beach on the north shore, with more than 350,000 annual visitors. tragically, crane also takes the lead in dramatic beach erosion and flooding. crane beach has already lost 112 acres of shoreline — the beach my mom ran around as a child isn’t the same as the one i did. nearly 1,500 feet of sand and dunes have been lost since i was born in 2001. the beach has a serious flooding problem, and water sometimes covers part of argilla road, the only road to the beach. a stretch of the road is surrounded by the great salt marsh, which regularly floods as a result of sea level rise and storm surge. in 10 years, argilla road could be flooded on a daily basis, and in 50 years, the beach could become completely inaccessible. will my kids even be able to get to the beach that i grew up on?

these fishing towns that feed my spirit — ipswich, gloucester, rockport — all financially depend on beach tourism and family seafood businesses. what’s more, crane beach is one of the world’s most essential nesting sites for piping plovers, a threatened bird that was nearly hunted to extinction in the 1800s. crane beach is an invaluable stretch of sand that holds incredible importance to the financial stability of the town, to piping plovers, and to the hearts of everyone who visits year after year.

climate change, and the extreme weather events it exacerbates, are expected to increasingly disrupt towns all over the country. high-tide flooding due to sea level rise is exponentially increasing, threatening the coastal property market and town infrastructure. on the atlantic coastline, all it takes is a local sea level rise of 1.0 to 2.3 feet for high tide to turn into a major destructive flood. massachusetts north store’s state of the coast report makes it clear: “an increase in the level of the world’s oceans is due to global warming,” and sea level rise poses a serious threat to coasts with intensified storm surges, flooding, and damage of coastal zones.

the town of ipswich recently completed the first two phases of their project to raise argilla road by 18 inches, and to create natural banks on the sides of the road to protect the new elevation from erosion. the town is also working to restore the marsh that argilla road runs through. workers are performing “ditch remediation,” filling in the centuries-old unnatural ditches with natural salt marsh hay. these efforts will restore the natural flow of water in the marsh, hopefully reducing flooding from sea level rise and storm surge, and keeping argilla road dry. the trustees of crane beach work hard to organize around this issue, from partnering with environmental organizations to holding educational community events to creating a podcast to spread the message. this gives me hope for the town, and for the future of my beloved beach.

crane beach is a beautiful stretch of dunes and choppy new england waves that will freeze your toes off. people stood on that beach thousands and thousands of years ago. a seagull swooped down and snatched an entire sandwich out of my father’s hand on that beach six years ago. beyond its financial importance, crane beach is a gorgeous, invaluable spot in the universe. the waves can be relentless, but i will always choose to get back in the water. 

for now, it looks like crane’s next generation of baby plover birds will have a chance to spend their babyhood on the beach their mothers chose. but will my children have the same opportunity? it depends on the continued commitment of the town of ipswich to combat the effects of climate change.

the blue zone

the host of official un negotiations, the blue zone was packed with high-level panels, press conferences, and delegation meetings. while i could not access the highest-level negotiations, i was constantly in awe of all of the government officials, reporters, and activists from around the world that surrounded me. everyone there seemed to be on a mission, representing the interests of their respective organizations and constituents. one of my most memorable encounters was attending the u.s. congressional delegation’s press conference, where both senate and house members spoke about their takeaways and action steps from the conference. since the press conference was quite small, i found myself only standing a few feet away from some of the most influential politicians in congress. after the press conference, i even sucked up the courage to talk to georgia sen. jon ossoff, who gave a powerful message on taking drastic climate action on behalf of young people. he was incredibly attentive to what i had to say, and even delivered a message to young people on my phone (that i posted on my planet forward instagram takeover).

another highlight in the blue zone was getting the chance to hear from indigenous leaders, whose voices are crucial in climate conversations. there was one speaker in particular i was overjoyed to see on the mainstage: levi sucre romero, a leader of the bribri peoples and coordinator of the mesoamerican alliance of peoples and forests. i had the chance to interview and write about levi’s work for an planet forward-hosted internship at mongabay last year, and so it was the best surprise to see levi speaking to thousands about the importance of indigenous knowledge and leadership in climate solutions.

the green zone

while the blue zone hosts high-level negotiations and world leaders, the green zone is open to the public and attracts families, students, and nonprofits alike. despite the blue zone getting the majority of media attention, the green zone was still packed with fascinating events and exhibitions. in the green zone, i attended panels on indigenous environmental art and storytelling, watched an imax film that took viewers into space, and even experienced climate films through a virtual reality simulation. to me, the green zone was equally as enriching as the blue zone. while no official climate negotiations took place there, the green zone’s programming still plays a key role in enriching the public and nonprofessionals on important environmental conservations and making climate action more widely accessible.
 

the streets

outside of the official blue and green zones, there was also so much energy and chaos taking place just on the streets. protesters lined glasgow’s city square and streets all weekend, with famous climate activists such as greta thunberg and vanessa nakate delivering speeches at rallies. the train and bus lines in glasgow were even packed with protesters from around the world eagerly holding up posters and signs. there is an unmatchable energy at protests that make the climate movement feel so powerful and unifying, and to participate in these protests right outside the cop26 doors was truly unforgettable. 

the need for more collaboration

experiencing cop26’s blue zone, green zone, and outside protests provided me a holistic perspective on cop26 and the different stakeholders involved. with so many interests at play, it becomes so difficult to reconcile the needs of all stakeholders at large-scale climate discussions. while switching between different zones, i noticed that diplomatic, high-level climate negotiations in the blue zone could not have felt more different than the passionate, fiery protests on the streets. in a similar sense, representatives from global south and indigenous communities feel a far greater urgency for climate action than those from western nations, especially seeing more drastic effects of climate change firsthand that threaten their livelihoods. there is also a disconnect between younger and older generations, as young people oftentimes are most concerned about climate change since they inherently will have to deal with its impacts most in their lifetime. 

as a result, various stakeholders tend to work on climate issues in isolated spaces, perpetuating environmental echo chambers. however, what the climate crisis needs most is more cross-cultural and cross-sectoral collaboration, since climate change impacts us all. attending cop26 amplified this disconnect to me, and thus i want to be a builder of bridges and help foster more collaborations among the various stakeholders working on the climate crisis. and i am certain that truthful, innovative storytelling plays a key role in this.

i was lucky enough to have the privilege of attending cop26 as a delegate from the university of connecticut, where i am currently a senior environmental studies student. on my second day at the conference, i heard an indigenous bolivian woman—angélica ponce chambi—speak about gender equality and climate change, the role that indigenous women have in protecting the environment, and the need for immediate global action for environmental protection. it was beautiful and it was moving. it’s one of the relatively few events at cop that gave me genuine hope. another such moment came in hearing from emtithal “emi” mahmoud, a sudanese-american poet and advocate for refugees. what the two speakers have in common is personal experience. they didn’t get a comfortable delegate job through family connections, because they’re wealthy, or any other reason based on luck and privilege. 

rather, both are from a community already feeling the impacts of climate disasters, communities doing the real work to recover. they have been impacted, and they are fighting every day for real action. they are on the frontlines.

these are the people we need to hear from. communities have solutions—ones that are often more effective because they are created by the people who are affected by the problem and will be affected by the solution.

i know that cop is about politics; i know that countries, people, organizations, and corporations are there to make a statement and negotiate deals. but what if, for just a moment, we paused and listened? truly listened, with empathy and caring, to those being most impacted, to the community organizers, to those who are not usually heard. i’m not naive. i know that listening won’t suddenly make all of our differences disappear, that the negotiations won’t suddenly become easy, but i do believe it would help.

the problem is different when we’re able to see it through a human and community lens. it’s harder to think of it as just a policy issue, and not a people issue. when you think of something as a people issue, what choice is there but to act? when there’s a face and a story, and when we listen with empathy, we can see ourselves, and our loved ones in that story.

when i heard mahmoud speak, i heard someone with a different past, and different identities from me—but also someone who shares an identity as an activist, and a frustration with cop for ignoring the voices of those being affected. when i heard chambi speak, i again heard someone with different identities and backgrounds, but also someone who shares an identity as a woman who is proud to be in the climate movement and bring her specific perspective as a woman to the table. their voices and stories resonated with me, while allowing a glimpse into someone else’s lived experiences. 

i believe that stories based on lived experiences matter. they have an enormous impact. the presence of these stories and the people who carry them might not “fix” cop because of how unjust it has been—from the lack of women at cop in positions of power to inequities in who was able to access the covid-19 vaccine and travel to the conference. yet, i believe that it would go a long way in remedying some of the harms that have been done by creating space for those who need to be heard most, and result in action that is more on par with the needs of the moment.

cop27 will happen one year from now in egypt. the world is watching. we are ready for a cop that is just and equitable, that centers on those most impacted, and acts on climate change at the scale of the crisis we are facing. we are watching—and we expect better.

in other words, the use of data and technology can minimize financial and logistical barriers for food insecure households to obtain high quality food, which in turn can expand the potential for food sovereignty in local communities, raise nutritional standards nationally and embrace indigenous and first nations communities.

the green revolutions of the 20th century forced the industrial economic model onto the agricultural system, which resulted in the loss of seed variety, traditional farming techniques, cultural identity and a sense of home. (clapp 2015)

small-scale farms should have increased access to federal and state funds to incentivize regenerative agriculture, which is marked by an agricultural landscape with biodiversity that includes multiple income streams. monocultures are senseless because they are destructive to soil health of fertile agricultural land, overuse valuable water resources, and involve the use of toxic and dangerous pesticides and chemicals that harm human health. today, much taxpayer money goes into subsidies for monoculture infrastructure, such as corn and soybeans, over 90% of which are genetically modified and go towards livestock, not human, consumption. instead, there should be a transition to regenerative agriculture through a series of guidelines, public funding and tax incentives for organizations that help bridge the divide between conventional and sustainable agriculture. 

large-scale monocultures are inherently more vulnerable to supply-chain disruptions. in the event of another epidemic, local farms and community members can keep a steady food supply and establish safeguards to minimize viral spread. trucks can be routed from local suppliers to retailers by healthy employees, with mandatory and frequent testing rather than unnecessarily spreading the disease across the country. this way, there is not as much of a shock to agribusiness and large food suppliers that may already be struggling amidst this public health crisis. 

meanwhile, the trump administration proposed a 15% funding cut to the usda in 2020, partly through limiting crop insurance subsidies to small-scale farmers. in response, the organic farmers association has also asked for the 2020 budget appropriations to provide foundational funding for the following programs: national organic program ($18 million),organic transitions program ($8 million) and organic data initiative: ($1 million). 

there is $2-3 billion in conservation spending through eqip (environmental quality incentives program) and csp (conservation stewardship program), which subsidizes farm conservation practices, such as cover crops and riparian buffers, which limit the human impact on ecosystem health and provide much-needed natural space for wildlife and biodiversity accumulation. at the state level it varies, and in pennsylvania there is the annual conservation innovation grant which provides eligible farms with up to $225,000 for 1-3 year long projects, and $5,000 to $75,000 for single projects.

organic provisions in the 2014 farm bill expanded the mandatory funding cap on organic agriculture research to $100 million, $57.1 million to the expansion of organic farm certification and $10 million to technological updates. if the federal government were to pass a federal policy that drew a  $3-5 billion in resources to database capacity-building, hire staff and personnel for farm-to-community outreach and a biodiversity management department, this would kickstart an industry that is already valued at $55.1 billion in 2020 at this point in the fiscal year. 

there are sections, or “titles”, for conservation (title ii), research (title vii), horticulture (title x) and crop insurance (title xi), which outline where the funding is appropriated for programs and initiatives. in this latest farm bill, there is no formal codified categorization and funding for environmental justice, collective action, restorative justice, artificial intelligence/data analytics and marketing, which could accommodate some of the obstacles posed by the current food supply system by expanding bargaining power and providing communities and government with the tools they need to see effective results and catch up to other departments’ institutional capacities.

now is the perfect opportunity for public policy and national food companies to invest in local food supply chains to protect the health of their staff and the public, to increase the value of organic food and supply more resources and assets to community supported agriculture (csa) farms that are in desperate need of assistance or better yet expansion. even if the government and national corporations do not get involved, the economic trends do not lie: organic food sales are increasing by 20-40% around the world as consumers look for products that provide essential health services and boost immunity. while the organic food industry has increased in value by 12.2% in the past two years alone, some worry that a lack of infrastructure may prevent as many sales as there could have been otherwise. 

the most fundamental distinction to organic farming is that it approaches agriculture as an interconnected ecological system that emphasizes non-chemical solutions to fertility and production obstacles. while not specifically part of organic certification, it also tends to encourage mindfulness of natural resources in regards to biodiversity and energy, not to mention the use of age-old mechanical processes such as cover crops, green manure and sustainable procurement of compost. 

csa provides a unique opportunity for sustainable agriculture in that members subscribe (i.e. pay) a certain amount for the farm to function, and in turn the farm produces enough for the subscribers. this establishes a strong sense of community while beginning to account for entrenched gaps in wealth and economic security for all members of the supply chain, with a focus on underserved groups.

the history of our food system is based on stolen land from indigenous communities and forced labor, and that legacy persists today: 2% of farmers are black while 95% are white; and 2% of farm owners identify as latinx even though they make up 80% of farm workers. meanwhile, 8% of farms own 40% of american farmland. workers get harmed, systems prevent the oppressed from wealth, while carbon emissions via agriculture have increased by 9% since 1990.

there is a rising coalition of organizations, such as the national young farmers coalition, that demand reform and transformational change. nyfc strives to support a diverse array of agricultural operations, and to incorporate stakeholders that have suffered from systemic oppression, forced migration, slavery, jim crow, mass incarceration. the mission for racial justice must address access to land, food production and access and economic mobility. additionally, groups such as northeast farmers of color land trust and familias unidas por la justicia are worker-owned, community organizations that aim to decolonize farmland ownership in the united states.

there can still be a variety of options, however in this system people will not starve or go hungry or face medical consequences due to lack of access, especially during a global health pandemic. now is the time for everyone to take a second look at csa farms and regenerative agriculture as a catalyst of economic growth and health.

after the summit, planet forward hooked me in with its mission, and i wanted to learn as much as possible about the art of environmental communication. i produced content for planet forward and my university’s sustainability department, and to my surprise, two of my stories were finalists for the 2020 storyfest competition. to gain more academic training, i enrolled in science reporting with gw’s national geographic visiting professor lisa palmer. this was the first reporting class i took at gw, and i gained valuable skills in environmental science communication and writing.

professor palmer gave the class valuable insight as an accomplished environmental writer, and she brought in a variety of speakers in the field of science communication. one speaker in particular was a representative of mongabay, an international news site known for its environmental and conservation reporting. as someone particularly interested in communicating international issues that don’t typically receive mainstream media coverage, i always admired mongabay’s niche reporting and wanted to gain experience with them one day.

that day came sooner than i had expected. professor palmer encouraged me to apply for an internship with mongabay, and a month later i was offered a role. at first, i was slightly intimidated because i was their only summer intern and had only taken one reporting class prior. studying international affairs, i didn’t have the traditional training that most journalism students receive during their undergraduate years. i knew i would have to really dive into the role at mongabay and learn the art of desk reporting as i went.

the skills that professor palmer taught me in science reporting helped me tremendously with my stories. for my first three stories, my editor, jeremy hance, assigned me to write articles based on recent environmental and conservation research. i covered the discovery of a new crocodile species in new guinea, the dramatic decline of a keystone peccary species in mesoamerican forests, and the dangerous impacts of climate change on canada’s unique glass sponge reefs. one of my most enjoyable tasks was interviewing the scientists themselves, as they were so passionate about their research and gave me useful insight that their research reports did not provide.

my story about the keystone peccary decline, in particular, gained much international traction, as one of the first articles that sounded the alarm on this groundbreaking discovery. in fact, the story made mongabay’s list of most popular articles published in july, amassing more than 40,000 views online. to this day, it blows my mind that someone like me, with such little reporting background, could write stories that reach such a wide and international audience.

after three research-based articles, my editor decided to shift gears and assign me a more “human-centric” piece. my next story — also my favorite story of the internship — was an interview with an indigenous environmental leader named levi sucre romero from costa rica. for the interview, i interviewed romero about how environmental destruction and covid-19 have impacted his community, as well as how they are coping with the pandemic and sustainably managing their forests. levi provided me with so much wisdom and insight from the interview, his most important message being that governments must include indigenous knowledge to better conserve the planet—as well as prevent future pandemics.

as a filipino-american, i expressed to my editor how i also was interested in philippine environmental issues and would love to cover a story on the country. because mongabay covers the philippines extensively, he connected me with mongabay’s philippines editor to find a story. the editor assigned me an investigative piece about the potential lifting of governmental protections on the pristine bantayan island group, focusing on its harmful effects on the islands’ water supply. writing this story was particularly fulfilling, as i got the chance to interview bantayan locals and connect with environmentalists from my home country.

what’s next? i am ecstatic to be a planet 世界杯欧洲预选赛免费直播 for the 2020-21 school year, and i also will be a media engagement intern for the international food policy research institute, writing blogs and designing communications strategy with a focus on sustainable solutions to end global poverty. my work at mongabay has also gotten me interested in the environmental conflicts that indigenous communities face, and so i will be conducting research with the state department this year, focusing on researching these conflicts in southeast asia.

i am so grateful to planet forward, professor palmer, and mongabay for providing me with this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. my journey in environmental communications has only just begun.
 

conservation and environmental protection always felt blindly obvious to me. my love for nature led me to quickly internalizing information about how the world and its animals were at risk. i then developed an even stronger concern for the fate of our planet and our species. rather than this world being solely ours to wander, i always felt as if we were lucky just to share it with the other creatures who have long inhabited it. 

but recently, my affirmed beliefs have been questioned. after spending six weeks as a wildlife and conservation intern at tacugama chimpanzee sanctuary in sierra leone, my clarity on the ethics of conservation work are as blurred as ever. the future seems dangerously uncertain. looming within the persistent dark clouds of the rainy season, every day at the sanctuary i felt more strongly the imminent reality of climate change, population growth, and species extinction. i felt the hopelessness of long-term, momentarily intangible projects, of underfunded programs, unfairly slow productivity levels, and infuriating legislation that allows a chimpanzee poacher to get away with less than a $1 fine.

what i had thought would be a reflective, meditative, and illuminating six weeks instead became the complete opposite. i envisioned spending my mornings practicing yoga and meditation with the backdrop of rainforest sounds, and my evenings reading my 1,000-page novel, “infinite jest,” and then journaling, pinpointing exactly what i wanted to pursue in this field of work in the future. 

instead, i spent many of my mornings patrolling the electric fences in the unrelenting rain, scrubbing chimpanzee poop off my pants, and making sure the millipedes hadn’t crawled back into my suitcase overnight. my evenings were spent most often in the candlelight, without power, struggling to write down my disorderly thoughts beneath the glow of my headlamp. i was totally exhausted. was all this even worth it? 

i would often find myself trapped in this pit in my mind: 

the problems are so overwhelmingly huge, i can’t possibly make a difference. how naive was i to think that i could come here for six weeks and change a situation that is so deeply corroded?

what good am i doing, killing myself over the small problems provoked by climate change, when there are just 100 companies who create 71% of all carbon emissions?! even if i dedicated my entire life to this particular cause, devoting every ounce of energy i have into bettering the lives of those living closest to the chimpanzee habitat in sierra leone, my impact would clearly be negligible to the irreversible environmental catastrophe that is looming. 

and if i did, i wouldn’t be happy — i can’t do this for more than a few months at a time. living in the middle of the rainforest is really, really hard. am i a phony conservationist and environmentalist? if someone who is as passionate as i am is unwilling to devote their life entirely to this issue, then who on earth is? 

should i just quit school then, and enjoy my life while i can? hey, maybe i could move to hawaii and become an artist, eating fresh papaya, and surviving off the grid with a self-sustaining garden. 

i thought about all these things, and more. i let my mind wander down the endless paths of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. what i’ve realized is that all this worrying is doing far more harm than what i could be doing if i was doing anything but worrying.

the problem these days with conservation action, with considering climate change, is that we spend way more time deliberating and arguing about whether or not it is happening than actually implementing solutions. people are willing to put as much energy into arguing about how to save the planet as they are into actually getting about doing it.

i almost fell down this hole, too. but doing something, anything, is far more moral than doing nothing at all — and that in the end, it does add up. international development work is certainly not perfect; it is riddled with ethical conflicts and it’s important that we continue to examine these closely. but it also has dramatically improved and saved millions of lives, provided critical health care, education, jobs, infrastructure, and political stability. maybe these improvements aren’t seen right away, but over time they add up. slight positive developments do make a difference, especially when you’re dealing with small local communities and individual animals. 

there are institutional barriers that make improvements and solutions to entrenched problems nearly impossible. it’s important to recognize that volunteering or interning for a brief period of time does not provide a systematic solution to these problems. that’s not to say it has no value, just that we need to accept our contributions for what they are.

the truth is we need both: we desperately need large institutional changes, but we also need individuals who care about specific issues, who are willing to make day-to-day changes and have conversations that shift consumer habits. 

maybe i didn’t come away knowing what conservation-related career path i was going to pursue. my biggest takeaway was a perspective, an insight as to how complicated, sensitive, yet important conservation work can be, about privilege, about the power of storytelling. 

it was an insight into how it feels to face situations that seem doomed, but choosing to not let that shut you down. and lastly, it was an insight into how optimism and a positive outlook can change your perspective and can help you change the world.

“if you’re hanging out with me, i’m not going to strike you as a class clown,” says the pulitzer prize-nominated environmental writer. “despite my political convictions, i suffer from a case of good manners.”

that seems contradictory for someone a literary agent once said “writes like a drunken professorial hillbilly,” but branch insists that is the voice he’s cultivated for his writing – his “narrator.”

“my narrator is more fun than i am, more irreverent, more energetic,” he says. “it’s amazing how often people will mistake me for my narrator and assume i want to stay up all night partying with them.”

an english professor at university of nevada, reno, branch has published eight books; more than 200 essays, articles, and reviews; and has given more than 300 invited lectures, readings, and workshops around the theme of environmentalism. his work has been taught in creative writing and environmental literature courses around the country.

what sets him apart in a field often characterized by messages of doom and gloom, however, is his expert use of humor. his latest book rants from the hill, shows off this uncommon ability.

for example, in the chapter “lawn guilt” – a nearly 2,000-word diatribe against the front lawn – branch uses a trademark curmudgeonly style to argue the financial and environmental impracticalities of the “exotic, barren monocultures” and also bemoan his own “dual status as arid lands environmentalist and lawn-watering dolt.”

while lawns are sometimes referred to as “ecological deserts,” he writes, “this characterization is an insult to deserts, which are remarkably biodiverse ecosystems.”

“i think the conventions of any genre can ossify over time,” he says. “with nature writing in particular, we’ve sort of indulged too much in writing that’s either driven by anger or sadness and i think that’s really fatiguing for our readers.”

the problem with such levity, he says, is that “humor is seen as antithetical to serious work rather than potentially an agent of it.”

that has not always been the case. “there have been plenty of periods in world history where humor was thought of as one of the greatest vehicles for conveying the most important information that a culture had to express,” he says. “nobody says that because shakespeare wrote comedy, he was a lightweight writer.”

but even though the scientific community has yet to fully embrace this method, branch has enough reason to believe that the public is hungry for it.

“in terms of connecting with other folks, the humor is what worked best,” he says of his early forays into comedic prose. “it was proving to be the most powerful tool in my bag.”

how the humor started

“humor came first through just trying to be honest about my own failures,” branch says.

in 1995, he and his wife eryn moved from virginia to the high cold desert of nevada. “we wanted to be in a wide open space with lots and lots of critters and opportunities to be outside,” he says. “we designed and built a passive solar house on 50 acres out here in the middle of nowhere.”

their property, located at 6,000 feet on the eastern slope of the sierra nevada, is just a lot away from public land that stretches all the way to california. the “vast sagebrush ocean” is home to rattlesnakes, bobcats, vultures, pronghorns, and all other manner of fauna. “it was going to be a flawless pastoral retreat and i was going to escape the vices of over-civilization and blah blah blah, right?”

but at some point during their move, eryn became pregnant with their first daughter hannah – a milestone for which they had been hoping for more stability.

 “life has a way of not really respecting your plan,” branch jokes.

the first-time “desert rats” found themselves tackling not only the unforgiving landscape, but also the challenges of parenthood. branch thought the trial and error of raising a family in such non-traditional circumstances so peculiar, he began to document his life unfiltered.

“when you see yourself fail at things, you only have a certain number of choices on how to respond,” he says. “you can pretend you’re not making mistakes and cover it up, you can beat yourself up about it, or you can learn from it. i learn best when i laugh at myself.”

the process 

when he’s home, you can find branch “walking around the desert reading stuff aloud like a madman.”

ten years ago, he set a goal to walk 1,000 miles a year – a target he’s about doubled.

and while he walks, he writes.

“for me, walking and writing are part of the same motion,” he says. “i print manuscripts and read them aloud. i really believe in editing by ear and not just by eye. and i’m too restless to just sit around and do it.”

he says others question is ability to walk the same landscape every day without getting bored. but to him, it’s different every time he ventures out.

“when you walk the same territory at all times of the year, it’s amazing how different it is,” he says. “even when the landscape doesn’t change, my way of seeing it changes as i change.”

the land in branch’s work is more than a setting. it is a writer and a central character. it opens the door and invites his survivalist neighbors. it teaches his daughters to avoid scorpions – despite putting them there in the first place. and most importantly, it supports him during the most precious and vulnerable moments of his life.

the environmentalist aldo leopold once wrote, “when we see the land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect.”

humor is a bonding agent. it brings loved ones and strangers closer together simply through the shared experience of laughter. when we laugh, we open ourselves up to new people, new ideas and new experiences.

branch offers us exactly those – with the land at center stage. and after he’s had the last word, we might find ourselves using the land with the love and respect leopold predicted.