What's Important to You?

One of the things most important to me is rain.

I grew up in the beautiful Pacific Northwest of the United States. Famous for its wild ocean beaches, for its greenery, and infamous for the rain that makes everything green. I grew up as a child lover of rain. Even on special holidays like Independence Day in the height of summer and Halloween when you want to run around outside dressed up in a funny costume, I could have complained about the rain. But I never did—I loved it, because that was how it always had been. And that was how I thought it always would be.

At that age, I was also introduced to the concept of climate change. I can still picture vividly the cover of a book I was given: 50 Simple Things Kids Can Do to Save the Earth. I thought it was neat to think of ways to take care of the planet. I did a little, but not a lot.

I did a little, but not a lot, for the 20+ years after being handed that book.

The climate did a lot.

Now, I miss the rain tremendously. There's no longer a chance of a cloud in the sky on Independence Day. I've barely touched the handle of my umbrella the last two winters. I wonder if I'll be too warm this Halloween. Driving around the region this summer, the land is parched. Green lawns everywhere have gone brown. Trees are kindling to devastating wildfires. And those ocean beaches? I visit and I fear everything that will happen when the ocean levels rise and drown the shoreline we enjoy today and the homes and communities long-rooted there.

There are small changes happening in my part of the world right now, especially compared to so many other places on the planet. But I see them coming in this— my place, my home—and it breaks my heart to see it heat up and its magic and majesty begin to disappear. It breaks my heart to know this and much worse is happening to people's special places and homes around the world.

What can I do?

I can talk about it. I can use my voice to share my story with anyone who will listen. I can use my voice on World Pulse to unite with others and make it stronger. I can use my voice to write letters to the US government and to newspapers, as I now do as a member of the international Citizens' Climate Lobby. If they successfully lobby the passing of legislation for a carbon fee and dividend in the US and other countries, we will take the most significant step we can toward a carbon-free economy, an economy which I believe will be more just, more healthy, and more happy than we can imagine.

Mine is not just any voice. Mine—ours—is a feminine voice.

Today, I am proud to call myself a signer of the Women's Climate Declaration. As I read the declaration, this line in the preamble moves me each time:

"We are gathering to raise our voices to advocate for an Earth-respecting cultural narrative, one of 'restore, respect, replenish' and to replace the narrative of 'domination, depletion and destruction' of nature."

I read the Power of the Feminine in these words and these ideas. I read healing, hope, and the possibility of achieving balance and fulfillment. We women are the care-givers, the nurturers, the mothers, the ones who restore our children when they are hurt, respect our friends even when they are mistaken, and replenish our fields the world over. We are the ones who are most connected to Mother Earth. We are the ones who can give life to her voice, and the sacredness of her existence.

I invite you to sign the declaration and to raise your voice, ever louder, to every place where it will be heard and even to places where you think it will not. More and more people every day are starting to listen. And everyone has a connection to the earth, whether they know it or not. Mine has been the rain that makes my home green and beautiful. Yours might be the fish you catch from the shore. Theirs might be the mountain they love to hike or ski, or where they built their house. It all starts with a voice simply asking, "what's important to you?"

So please tell me, what's important to you? I'd love to hear.