Tending to planetary grief
A note on remembrance.
My favorite part of any award show or ceremony is always the in-memoriam section. That checks, right? It’s a moment of pause, a chance to acknowledge lives that have ended, and to hold space for both the reverence of their lives and weight of their absence.
I think it’s important to name what’s been lost—to resist the pull of forgetting. Who or what is asking to be remembered? Who’s being erased? What whispers of existence are fading without us even noticing?
The word whim evokes something sudden, unexpected, and beyond reasonable explanation. For me, it might as well be a synonym for death. Sometimes death arrives like a flash—abrupt and disorienting. Other times, it lingers just out of reach, a quiet inevitability. Yet it always carries the inexplicable, a rupture in the fabric of time and understanding. Perhaps w.h.i.m. could even be an acronym: worlds held in memoriam. For every loss is a world unto itself.
As I look back on this year and reflect on the losses we’ve borne, I am struck by the sheer magnitude. Too many to name, and yet, I will try. There is power in naming, in attempting a litany of remembrance for the many beautiful lives lost.
The Animal Lives
Dozens, if not hundreds, of species have gone extinct this year alone. Their absence leaves a haunting silence in the ecosystems they once animated. Among them:
Alagoas Curassow
Captain Cook's Bean Snail
Yangtze Sturgeon
Guam Kingfisher
Hawaiian Crow
Marbled Swordtail
Kihansi Spray Toad
Each of these beings held a unique place in the intricate web of life, their losses marking yet another thread unraveled. And with them, the stories, songs, and functions they carried vanish as well.
We honor them, thank them and ask for their forgiveness.
The Plant Lives
In the United States, we’ve lost our only stand of the massive Key Largo tree cactus. Researchers believe this marks the first local extinction of a species in the U.S. caused by sea-level rise. It’s a quiet tragedy, a harbinger of what’s to come if we fail to act decisively against climate change.
We honor them, thank them and ask for their forgiveness.
The Human Lives
We mourn the staggering loss of human life in conflict zones across the globe. These are not just statistics; they are lives lived, dreams unrealized, and futures cut short. This year has seen unimaginable suffering in:
Ukraine
Gaza
Sudan
Myanmar
Ethiopia
Nigeria
Haiti
The scale of human suffering defies comprehension. Entire cultures and communities have been shattered by war, displacement, famine, and systemic neglect and abuse. Each name, if spoken, would fill an ocean of grief.
We honor them, thank them and ask for their forgiveness.
On a Personal Level
This spring, I received the sudden news that my father’s brother, my uncle—Alfred Werner Churt—had died from a massive heart attack and stroke. It was a tear in the fabric of my belonging, shattering my sense of well-being. The loss felt intensely personal, stirring fears that I might be next in a lineage marked by heartbreak and failing heart health. Even as he was laid to rest more than 4,000 miles away, the impact of his death hit close to home.
We honor him, thank him and ask for his forgiveness.
The Act of Remembrance
Whether a sudden disappearance or an act of genocide, we grieve and we remember. Whether a gaping absence or a stark reminder of the fragile, fleeting nature of existence, we grieve and we remember. We grieve and we remember! To name is to honor, to resist the erasure that destruction, loss and harm caused by humans so often brings.
May this litany—incomplete and imperfect though it may be—serve as a call to pay attention. To notice what is slipping away and to fight, where we can, for the liberty and livelihood of all beings. And when we cannot, to grieve openly and remember fully.
