About a few years ago, I almost lost my faith, whether in God or in myself. I no longer felt like I had some sort of padding or protection that would somehow heal me from the decrepit state of the world. I did not like myself, but more than that, I didn't like the world I lived in.

I stopped praying and going to church. Instead, when my family and I went camping during the summer, I sat on the beach watching the waves wash ashore and seeing the sun rise or go down, and I felt freed. That was the moment in which I found myself and God again. Somehow, my eyes were truly opened: I had not seen the world in that light before, and I could not believe my eyes.

I began to write serious poetry at about that time, really rethinking my themes and subjects. I was more than happy to write about the human race's misfortunes, but I was even more ecstatic about knowing that its misfortunes were only a speck in the spectrum of history and the universe. I was supposed to be a responsible human being, but my responsibility was not something that I could not bear.

At first I believed that it was glamorous to be over-emotional and loving hating. I wanted to see, with weak, untrained eyes, that the world was going to hell and that I could do nothing about it. But, I realized on those summer beaches that even though I, as a single unit, could probably do nothing about it, I held on to the fact that the world would somehow renew itself. I felt comforted that my existence would not produce so many negative results: I felt confident, too, that I could make small changes which would create bigger ones.

Did I want to save the world? Did I want to completely reverse time and perhaps eliminate the human race? No; I love humanity and I would like to contribute to its prosperity, but I also do not want to add to its misfortunes. When I sat on those summer beaches, I could only think about how beautiful the world is and how it asks for nothing but respect. I don't mean to sound like a tree-hugger, but perhap deep down inside I am.

I sat on those beaches and I wondered if others after me, others years and years from now, would be able to enjoy the same views that I had. I wondered if my posterity would be able to have nature's bounty open to them, or if we had ruined our chances. After all, isn't it our responsibility to leave what we touched virtually unblemished? I had the simple revelation that all of our actions constitute a butterfly effect, and it is our duty to make sure that it produces positive results.

Learn more about this author, Joan Inong.
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