What I Do Matters

Twenty years ago, I had the good fortune to work as a chiropractor in New Zealand. I traveled from there to Australia, so my first exposure to coral reefs was the coral reef – The Great Barrier Reef. Essentially a landlubbing, Rocky Mountain girl, I was excited about visiting the world's greatest reef, but nervous too. I swore that I could not be convinced to scuba dive; simple snorkeling in the wild ocean would be enough for me. (I'm always just a tad worried that some big old monster is going to sweep up from the deep, grab me by the ankles, and pull me under.)

Within three days of arriving in Cairns, I could see that a world of color, shape and mystery existed under the water's surface and it was clear simply floating on the surface would not be an adequate way to explore. Before I knew what craziness had overtaken me, I found myself deep below the ocean's surface, replete with scuba gear.

Coral is alive and bursting with brilliant reds, purples, blues, and oranges. Corals can be plate-like, branch-shaped, spiny, or spongy. Fish and eels, manta rays and octopi, squids, sharks, and sea turtles abound in healthy reef ecosystems. Coral reefs, teeming with life and vitality, captivated my imagination, and over the years, I visited them in Australia, New Zealand, Fiji, and Hawaii.

Two years ago, I was in Hawaii for a wedding. Snorkeling again after a six year absence on the north shore of Kauai, I was disturbed by the blandness of the reef and the lack of fish. There were a few humuhumunukunukuapua'a, but not much else. I wondered if it was the season or maybe a bad year. Then I saw a film explaining that like the mountain pines, the coral reefs are dying.

Record high seas temperatures triggered die-off of coral around the globe in 1998 – up to 70% in some areas. Reefs are disturbed naturally, by storms, predators and outbreaks of disease. These are normal cycles. But coral can only adapt to a 1 -2 degree change in temperature before it dies – going ghostly white in a process called coral bleaching. All around the Pacific Rim and in the Caribbean, coral bleaching has been happening faster than reefs can recover. Indonesia only has 7 % of its reefs left intact.

In addition to nature, anthropogenic causes of coral die-off include over-fishing, coral collecting (for aquariums), oil and fuel spills, runoff, sedimentation from logging, and increased temperature.

Like the boy in the movie The Sixth Sense who saw dead people, I see cancer everywhere – in ponderosa pines and coral colonies, in my dog, my sister, my friends, myself. It causes me concern and yes, sometimes, it makes me downright depressed, angry, and afraid. But that's just on my dark days.

Most days are like today. I blend veggies and yogurt for a wholesome breakfast. I take pleasure in harvesting salad greens from the backyard garden. My son and I rode our bikes to the grocery store with trailer in tow to bring home the things we needed. Forsaking the car for a day, I walked Nicholai around the neighborhood, heartened to see the number of front lawns torn up and turned to vegetable gardens, to hear the gentle cluck of hens who pecked and scratched in many back yards, and to chat with people turning over soil, tilling up a parking strip, or installing solar panels.

The coral reefs are in trouble, as are the mountain forests. So are the fish in the oceans, the animals on farms, the polar bears at the North Pole, the penguins at the south. So are we. That's why it all matters – the ride to the store, the backyard garden, tender care of chickens, neighborhood walks. Everything we do matters. I think we can save the forests and the reefs, the animals, and ourselves; we can save the world. But it starts right here, right now, today.