Shelby’s Story of Hope

Written by LCM Senior, Shelby Erickson

I am a senior studying Ecology, Evolution, and Behavior. After undergrad, I am planning on going into environmental law and policy. I have been involved with LCM for 4 years. Almost all my classes are centered on climate change in some way. I learn about the many issues the world is facing and will hopefully help solve one day, but also, it can be draining as I am constantly bombarded with the idea that: 1) there are many different facets to climate change and 2) there is too much to overcome, and we can’t fix it.

It can be easy to fall into the pit of despair of life, with the constant bombardment of information that we have readily accessible — we as humans were not meant to experience this much pain in a single day. We become accustomed to the hard times, to the death, to the destruction of others and the planet. We say it’s just another day in the life and keep on moving. I find this to be exhausting. And it would crush me if I let it.

The thing for me, is that I don’t let it. I don’t let the weight of the world crush me. And I do this by being present and aware of my surroundings at any specific moment in time. I try to zoom out of my narrow-focus, of the day to day, and think about the greater path I am on. I find footholds, small bursts of light, that let me know that I am not alone in this world, nor do I have to tackle it on my own. I like to think of life as a mountain that I am climbing, and each foothold I find is something that I can grasp, and smile and I can acknowledge that I am alive in this world, and I am placed here with purpose and that things will get better. And sure, my foothold sometimes crumbles, and I fall, sometimes hard, until I land on a new ledge of the mountain. And I dust myself off, patch up the cuts and scrapes and wipe the tears, maybe rest for a while, and THEN I LOOK FOR SOMETHING NEW. Or something old that helps remind me of who I am, whose I am, and why I am here.

Before coming to college, I was not a very spiritual person. I didn’t feel connected to the divine like others I knew until I started to become more aware of the beautiful things, the creation of God, around me. The most astute realization I have had is from a class I took on landscapes in Minnesota where a Dakotan leader explained the purpose of burial mounds and how they were formed so those no longer living can return to the stars, where they are from, and that we are all made of dust from the earth, which is the essence of stars. For all we know, we may have traces of Hydrogen and Helium in our blood, from a sun or a supernova explosion billions of years ago. All of us are all connected to one another in this mystical way and this sentiment brings me profound hope.

I invite you to think of some connections that you can make, brief footholds that can sustain the weight of the world with you, or perhaps even a rope or tether, that can help pull you along. Oftentimes, these connections, these divine moments, for me include celestial bodies, the sound of water rushing, the laughter of a stranger, a great movie soundtrack, or inside jokes with friends. They all are moments that make me feel alive. This is my greatest source of hope in the world, and I am grateful for the opportunity to share my story with you.