Utopia vs Climate
The climate
If we all do nothing for a day all over the world. Let's make it bigger. We all do nothing for a whole week. We look deeply into each other's eyes again. Cuddle up under an old blanket. No power. No train, no electric car, no gas from the warmed up earth. No overwrought parents speeding around in SUVs to take their unwanted offspring to some shelter. No lorries clapping at the clock to fill the empty tummy, which is just empty after a long weekend of wine and blue-veined cheeses.
A week without internet and watching a bad movie on a provider is not an option for a while. We don't know for a week whether the neighbors on the other side of the ocean are still alive. Get rid of that cigarette and just look in the fridge, where the plug has been pulled out for a week. What is there and how do we survive a week when we are on our own. We all put in an extra penny. For a moment, no people on television, chatting about climate, while they have just driven from A to B in a large car. And back again. The mouth full about how we all rotted away the earth. Rule here, little problem, activist stuck on the street. With glue produced by perhaps the most chemical industry there is.
To make glue, trees in the rainforest, the lung of our earth, are cut down. Climate activists, who stick to a road surface with sap from rubber trees. They then allow themselves to be removed by a product that is actually harmless but scarce. Water. With water where entire tribes struggle to walk back and forth for three hours to fill their bucket somewhere in a deep dug well, so that a little pot of rice can be boiled over a charcoal fire.
No war and clatter of arms anywhere in the world for a week. Bye, sorry, no ammo this week. For just seven days, no radar, which has to survey the battlefield on expensive batteries. The world on pause. You can walk. But then to stroke your girlfriend or child's hair for a moment. Talking is also allowed. I love you can be said calmly. The newspaper is not coming today. The phone doesn't work for a week. A film is read from an old book, which still has unwritten pages. The neighbor asks for a potato. In exchange for an egg, the deal is closed. Everyone happy. There are sounds in the air again, because the noise of airplanes and other means of transport is gone. A happy sound, because the critters finally get their lungs filled with clean air. They flutter to heights that are unprecedented. The plumage has never been so clean and the singing is not of the air. Beautiful. Plants, vegetables, trees and people bloom for a week. Peace. Mark the place. Attention to each other. Perhaps a drop from heaven, so that everything that breathes gets attention, which it deserves and grows. Greet the sun and back straight to make sure everyone has food. Give it a week and maybe we'll all see what's possible and what Mother Earth was built for. Enjoy each other. A nice walk-through dunes or forest. Through deep valleys and over high mountains. The sun gives more power than ever, because air pollution is not there for a while. The stars are visible again. The water in rivers, lakes and seas is suddenly drinkable again. Blue becomes Turquoise. The yellow glow turns gold. Snow on the mountain tops is virgin white again. There is finally a deafening silence again. Peace. No rush. Each other. Charity and care for each other. Help the other where necessary. A week's stop and we will be rid of the nitrogen problem for years to come. Much more important is that we are busy with each other from Monday to Sunday without screwing up mother earth. It takes no glue and no oil to drive there. Stop, stop, think. Utopia.