It is the daytime, and the sun begins to disappear; the Earth grows darker. The birds aren’t singing, the spiders are taking down their webs, and there is dead silence all around.

The more-than-human world is baffled by the solar eclipse.

The early humans too were frightened by solar eclipses. I’m not sure what they experienced, but I assume they would have wondered how long they must bear the darkness. Would the sun ever return again? Someone must have whispered, perhaps a mother holding her child, “This too shall pass,” and, to her delight, it did!

When I first experienced eco-anxiety, I had nights when I was not certain if the sun would rise, but it always did.

In dark times, hope is not mere wishful thinking but a necessity. The archaic use of this word is also “a feeling of trust.” Trust is a fundamental force in the natural world, too.

The vampire bats suck on the blood of their prey, never taking more than they need. Sensing the body temperature, they ensure their host is not running dry. Upon their return, if their friend hasn’t succeeded in feeding, they feed them from their share, and in return, they are fed on the nights they need. By feeding each other, vampire bats create a social culture.

The vervet monkeys sit high above the trees and keep an eye out for predators, alerting their fellow monkeys and the grazing herds with their calls.  Around 9% of bird species help raise the offspring of unrelated breeding pairs.

These bonds are formed with the hope that, when the time comes, they will receive the same generosity.

What makes the landscapes spring from the seeds? Is trust everywhere in the great communion of beings?

Trust is the first drop of rain touching the Earth, promising there will be plenty for all.

We grow from childhood to adulthood, and the dreamer in us becomes passive, less trusting, and more practical. We are forced to let go of hopes and accept an unfair and unjust reality—for ourselves, for those we love, and for the Earth.

Take a moment and ask yourself: What are you hopeful for? What do you hope for, and from the world around you? And it needs to be great because our trust in humanity is only a reflection of our trust in ourselves.

There is plenty of news and numbers out there that will make you grim about the climate crisis. I wouldn’t dare to deny it, but I do question how we can heal a wound by continually scratching it.

Widespread despair also comes from holding the thought of a suffering Earth. If we continue moving only with this pain and without hope, we won’t make it far.

How can we give ourselves a vision of humankind that is birthed by Nature to do her work? Much like each cell in our body works for us. From this space, like a child that is loved, perhaps we can begin our journey toward growing our trust.

As for me, I do have hopes for the future, even if the evidence suggests that I must not. Now more than ever, I believe in miracles and also in magic. How could I not, after knowing that marine animals and Earth communicate through magnetic fields, after knowing that trees travel, the seahorses brighten when they fall in love, bats never take more than what they need, and the birds help raise the offspring of other birds?

To abide by hope is my responsibility. As a living, breathing being, I must not choose despair.

My misery is replaced by seeing nature at work, and even in the darkest hours, I know that on Earth, we trust!

Words by Priyanka Singh Parihar,

Founder and Editor-in-Chief