Let’s take a journey down to the beach where it’s summertime and Thomas, a young man who has recently become a father, is teaching his son how to walk along the sand. The songbirds are larking, other families are building sandcastles nearby, and Thomas’s girlfriend, Diana, just failed to watch her son walk for the first time because, after having panic attacks all day, she is busily using a planner app on her phone to plan her future and get her life in order.
She’s so scared about the high costs of raising a son, especially because she’s pregnant again, and she fears she won’t be able to be the mother she needs to be. Little does she know, this change she’s going through is more natural than the plastics in her phone and nearby right behind her, hidden beneath a log, a snake who has just laid her eggs is having similar worries. The snake uses the length of its body to push the sand up over her eggs, to keep them concealed because soon she’s going to need to go out and find food. Diana has a list of grocery expenses on her planner app, and as she glances up to see her son happily splashing in the water, she swears the planet has put a curse on her and there’s another grocery item to put on the list. The planet itself, however, is facing changes of its own, inevitable changes, universal changes that make up the stories of life.
Dianna nor Thomas cannot comprehend the planning and preparation that their planet is making as they visit the summertime beach. Icecaps are melting, rivers are becoming wider, mud is drying out, millions of animals are seeking the next waterhole, birds are migrating, ocean temperatures are rising, fish are adapting to new waters. Changes are sweeping across the face of the planet, scientifically accepted changes. And for Dianna to accept her changes she must follow her planet as an example.
We all have to suffer through changes and you can learn to accept that when you look at how formidable and strong our planet is. Let’s go visit a forest at night. Here, it’s winter and everything is encrusted in snow. The trees are completely rimed, pale as ghosts with icicles hanging from their branches, and a log cabin over in a nearing glen is encapsulated in hoarfrost. A man is inside the cabin tending a small fire. Months in advance, he had prepared for this moment. “Winter is coming,” he had said jokingly. He had gathered wood, had laboriously built this cabin out of logs, and now with an ache in his back and rot in his gut he looks down at the fire with a grin.