In Times of Urgency, Slow Down

I was born in a predominantly Catholic country, but I do not consider myself Catholic. I think it’s because Catholicism did not offer me an extraordinary life experience. Yet, I consider myself fortunate to have had two other great allies.

My dedicated practice of the so-called Eastern traditions, particularly Integral Yoga—a method of self-transformation as described in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras—has offered me profound insights into life and its meaning.

What is Yoga?

Yoga is not a religion, although many people seem to think it is. Yoga means “to unite—one” and speaks to the interconnectedness of all life, within yourself and with everything around you. Yoga speaks of inter-being. You and I “inter-are,” as Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh and the engaged Buddhist tradition he led call it.

And Nature. As a child, I lived in southeastern Venezuela, just an eight-hour drive from the Gran Sabana and Canaima National Park, with its breathtaking mountains (tepuis) and waterfalls. Later, as a young professional, I spent much time working in the Orinoco Delta region. A few years later, I lived in lush California and also worked extensively with organizations in and around the Amazon Basin and other Latin American countries. These experiences allowed me to appreciate the abundance and vastness of nature, and often—even amid the rush of life—I experienced moments of feeling particularly alive.

In 2016, after 20 years working in sustainability (in my own unusual combination at the time of sociology and environmentalism), I entered a long period of voluntary retreat.

That time brought many gifts to my life experience and set me on a journey that continues to evolve. As my awareness of life’s interconnectedness deepened, I came to feel nature in my body and bones. I no longer just admired nature or saw myself as part of it—I surrendered to it.

You and I exist because Mother Nature exists

It is a matter of life, not religion. We are Life. But one thing is to think that, and another entirely is to feel it in your bones. For me, this is recognizing the sacredness of Life. Nothing can replace felt experience. The sacred is to humbly surrender to That which is Greater and know, simply and absolutely, that You Are because That Is. Only then do determination, courage, and discipline arise, allowing us to act coherently with this awareness.

At some point, I also reached a painful yet liberating conclusion: living more sustainably—a goal that I and many colleagues pursued—will only be possible if, individually and collectively, we develop intimate, meaningful, and truly personal ways of connecting with ourselves, others, our environment, and the Earth. This experience cannot be imposed, given, or planned for you. It’s not about education alone, although that helps, or intellectual competence in ecology. It is about feeling nature within you, and no single path exists for everyone. Each must discover their own.

Sustainability is only possible through individual and collective work

Now I see it more clearly. For me, it represented a series of trials that led me to return more alive, filled with an infinite sense of wonder, reshaping my life priorities. Gradually, a sense of fullness and purpose has emerged, bringing deep gratitude for being alive, for wanting to give back, take less, and care profoundly for this piece of the universe: “walk as if you were kissing the Earth with your feet,” as Thich Nhat Hanh writes in The Peace is Every Step.

Throughout this journey, I have almost effortlessly committed to letting go of what is nonessential, making space to appreciate the sacredness of life in myself, others, and everything I witness, experience, or do. This brings me to today and the film The Letter: A Message for Our Earth, which vividly conveys the message of Laudato Si’. I am eternally grateful to Pope Francis and all collaborators for creating a work that so delicately and powerfully speaks to the sacredness of all life and beings. It is a beautiful piece of art woven from the threads of an emerging collective consciousness.

I was also deeply moved when I heard the Pope speak in Spanish. I immediately knew, and he later confirmed, that he was speaking from his heart. The “environmental crisis” more accurately called the Earth’s Cry cannot be addressed by bureaucratic power or private or public office alone. The source, the flame, must come from our deepest humanity. Can we access it?

The film narrative flows through four voices: youth, Indigenous peoples, the poor, and nature. Most of us have experienced or will experience the effects of climate change in some way. For instance, I live in a low-lying coastal area that, in five years, has been hit by two major hurricanes and countless storms. Just two weeks ago, the western part of the state, only a few kilometers away, was devastated by Hurricane Ian.

Another existential concern for me is that the Venezuelan migration today represents the largest humanitarian crisis in the Americas. I feel the pain and collective trauma caused by the forced displacement of so many whose lives are intertwined with mine. I also see and fear that, due to climate-related disasters, we may continue to witness many more unplanned human movements across the Americas and the world, as the film clearly shows.

Mother Nature is powerful. She has given us everything, and she can take everything away

Watching the film, which is a gem, a gentle smile appeared on my face when I saw Greg Asner and Robin Martin share parts of their story. I saw them as human beings, as a couple, and as devotees of Mother Nature. It also brought memories from more than ten years ago, of the excitement we shared working to protect the Amazon rainforest by making science (in the film applied to coral reefs) accessible to all sectors public, scientific, civil society for more informed decision-making. I feel joy and pride to see the scale of that work. I also realize that, collectively, science can only take us so far our hearts and the felt experience of the sacred guide the rest.

In times of urgency, we must slow down

It may sound controversial or contradictory, but it is not. Only then can we see beyond, perceive what is obvious to the heart but not to the eyes or a restless mind.

There is a Zen koan that says:
“Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.”

One possible meaning: we bring the sacred into our daily life. It is not something that comes to us it is a force flowing from within us.