S Sorrensen
Wooyung. Tuesday, 6.50am
The ocean didn’t feel more acidic than normal during my morning frolic in the waves. (These days I tend to frolic in the shallows rather than bodysurf the big stuff. I’m scared of sharks. They’re hungry, they’re angry and they’re coming to get us.) The ocean didn’t dissolve my swimmers, burn my skin or blind me. Thank the goddesses for that. My early morning dip is a new ritual – this is the second day – and it just wouldn’t be the same if the dip was in, like, battery acid. (That’d be terminal…)
I suppose the acidification of the ocean is a subtle thing and not something you can feel. Not if you’re a human anyway. Humans are not the most subtle of Earth-dwellers. Now if I were an oyster or a coral, I’d be very worried. With the ocean racing towards acidity, my calcium carbonate bits – my shell or skeleton – will dissolve. Oh dear. Goodbye Age of Oyster; Hello Age of Jellyfish.
Most people accept the reality of climate change. Humans may not be subtle but we can be smart. We’ve got science. You know science: It gave us Triumph Bonneville and iPhone 6; it gave us Fender Stratocaster and ballistic missiles; it gave photos of Mars and air conditioning. Science is smart.
Science has shown us how our planet works – Thanks Galileo. Thanks Newton. Thanks Einstein – and that the climate is changing because of carbon dioxide pollution.
Most people accept this reality. The others are in government.
Already it’s hot. The sun has barely dragged itself from the sea. The coffee is barely brewed. I’m sitting outside my little caravan in the lee of the dune at Wooyung beach, and it’s hot already, despite the northerly, despite the tree shade.
I can’t feel the accelerating acidification of the ocean, but I can feel the heat. The last three years have been the hottest three years on record. This worries me. Most people don’t seem to be worried, though. Life goes on…
Maybe it’s because we are swamped by information. We can hardly tell if anything is true or not anymore. Or even if truth matters. Within this acidic sea of information – some true, some not – reality has become a choice rather than an observation. Wave after wave of alternative facts wash over us, making acceptance of the ludicrous and denial of the frightening easy.
Which is real: three hottest years in a row, or a record score on MKR for crumbed lamb brains? It depends on where you live. If you live in cyber land, with climate control and programs on demand, then the MKR record is real. If you live on Earth, then the hottest years record is a real big worry.
A bead of sweat traces through the salt on my back. I don’t have an exo-skeleton to worry about, but I have grandchildren. Despite the worry, thinking of them makes me smile. Coffee smell and gurgle makes it bigger. I like this place. I must visit the kids…
Most people have empathy. Humans are social animals. We care about others – not because of what they can do for us, but because we are connected to each other. We are a nervous system wrapping ourselves around a planet, waking it up. It’s in our neural nature to feel others’ pain. And not just human others – animals, insects, rivers, forests – all that is Earth.
That the world is becoming less habitable; that there is increasing suffering for all Earth-dwellers (except maybe for jellyfish) – that makes us care; makes us want to help; makes us want to remedy the situation.
Yes, most people have empathy. The others are in government.
For four decades The Echo has printed the stories some people loved, some people hated, and some pretended not to read. If you want us to keep telling the truth, the real truth, not the sugar-coated version. We’ll need your support to keep the presses rolling. 
