Every once in a while, not every year, maybe every few years, now and again, here and now, it all feels like too much. Not enough. I lose focus and passion and a sense of purpose. What’s it all about, Alfie? I resign positions, slow down, and step away from obligations. Some wonderful things have happened recently, but other things have caused me to stumble and lose focus and confidence. This is one of those times. Time to step back and wait for energy and possibility to return.

A last word for now: The planet is quite literally too heavy with people. All the wild animals put together make up a fraction of the weight of us and the animals raised to be eaten. Those animals we devour alone weigh more than everything else. This fact was shocking to me when I first learned it. It still shocks me. Earth is infested with humans. Despite that, some exert a powerful push to increase human population, but there are too many of us.

Overpopulation of human beings has worried me since I was nine, when we were 3 billion. The best guess is that we will top out at 10 or 11 billion in the next thirty years or so. Then our numbers will decline. Another pandemic? The choice of women to only have babies they can provide for? Another world war? Starvation, flooding, panic.

I learned long ago a simple truth, that human populations will always be limited. We starve or die of old age or disease or murder on an individual or massive scale. We poison ourselves or accidentally fall and die. We all die. We invent wars over territory and power and ego. We damage the landscape and hurt ourselves in the process. But there is also that choice we might make to remain contained, to have only the babies we can care for, to ensure that every one of us is fed and cared for, that we are all housed and safe, that our lives end when the body ages out not because we’ve killed ourselves. We have a choice between winning and taking care of one another. Would that we chose, every time, the latter.

It might be a while, but I imagine I’ll be back.