February in the northern hemisphere is a very difficult place for humans, a species that has been displaced there, displaced to the temperate regions where our bodies, brains and all, are not adapted to thrive. But here we are, placed in a February that does not love us.
The February utterance “the days are getting longer” is true enough, though these lengthening days haven’t done much to warm the oceans and lakes. In fact these large thermal modulators that determine a huge plurality of the climate, including our own bodily climate, reach their lowest temperatures in February. We are also especially connected with them since a resonance of sorts exists between we liquids (we are bodies of water primarily). The state of the larger liquid bodies around us is a good indication of where we should ideally dwell and where we shouldn’t. It seems pretty clear to me that frozen lakes are not for skating—they are for escaping. But we are not there… because we are all to heavily invested there. And these northern lands are very invested in us in their seasonal flows. The land is lethargic and so are we, after several months of cooling down any warm vital flows. Months of eyes that evolved to see colors, seeing nothing but colorless landscapes. What does this reinforce in us? What does it drive us to do to escape that madness? Sigh.
So people are not wrong for desiring a balanced amount of light, and believing that it is very important. It is very important, in fact so important that we should’ve as a species continued being in a closer relationship with the equator (365 days of balance), as opposed to the equinox (a handful of days of balance). But again here we are, we northerners, we whose ancestors turned their backs on the sun, perhaps with spears and whips at those backs, as territoriality became a reality for the once nomadic species.
The diversity of climates humans now live in is directly correlated with the destruction of ecosystem diversity we inflicted. The human animal’s consistent needs for survival have us homogenizing the most climatically diverse areas, making them uninhabitable for a majority of the species living there as we make them habitable for us and our narrow range of parallelly domesticated species. We now so easily, habitually, destroy an entire ecosystem—ecocide—to make it habitable. What was it that provoked this and allowed this of a species that used to depend on the ecosystem?
What we gained in fire, we lost in forest
Our altered relationship with the forest, our original caretaker, is indicative of the answer. Deciduosity was our first widescale trauma, that contained the catalyst of the Earth’s sixth mass extinction. The harsh teachings of abandonment would be leveled on the astray hominids. The forest, our enduring mother and protective womb, every winter hibernates below ground and becomes “the woods” to those of us non-hibernating types above ground. We entered a seasonal land, but given our limitations as non-seasonal beings we continued our perpetuality through our fire-technology. We abandoned relationships with the forests and we abandoned our perceived need of the sun, and grew our relationship with fire. Forests became merely a means to fuel fire, to shelter our marriage of us and fire, an indoors love story. Humans and fire then gave birth to forged metals. Now we have forests of metals, we call them cities. Dystopia was prefigured in these long-ago missteps. We became alienated from our ecosystems, and failed (and were perhaps prevented) to return to the sun. Fire was what we had, and we forsook the other elements of our being along the way. We are the fire people, and after many many generations we are dry as fuck…
Our straying from our home near the equator had forced us to become part-time humans. Winter is inhumane, and so have we become. We hate the cold, but given the vast difference of scale it’s really more accurate to say the cold hates us. We need a vacation, one that has us actually vacate.