I was staring out the left window, watching the cold water far below, engrossed in speculation about the origin of white areas that I later decided must have been freezing mist thrown up by large waves.  The sea seemed both hostile and awesome, but as I focused on the leading edge of the DC-8 wing in the foreground I felt somewhat comforted.  The wing seemed to represent technology, some of the best that Mankind has produced.  I recall thinking that our ancestors would never have believed that Humans would someday fly so high.

Just then land appeared below.  We were scheduled to fly over the northern tip of Iceland, so I had actually been looking forward to this sight.  Somehow this snow-covered, rugged-looking land mass provided a greater feeling of comfort than the technologically perfected wing.  The land beckoned.  "This is where you belong" it seemed to be saying.  "Yes, that's home," I thought to myself; and I recalled the astronaut interviews described in the book "The Home Planet" (1988), expressing their longing and warm feelings of concern for our living planet.  Then I felt a sudden understanding of a connection between what had brought me to this remote setting and why I suddenly felt the astronaut's compassion.

In a matter of seconds I was overwhelmed by this new emotion.  Tears welled up, and I felt a "connection" that had eluded me for the past several weeks, during those 15-hour work days, seven days per week, while all of us struggled to understand the import of those squiggly lines on our charts; those lines that our intellect told us signified something about ozone depletion, but which stubbornly remained mere abstractions that didn't connect emotionally.

At that moment I felt "love for the Earth" for the first time!  This Earth that has been abused by Humanity, including unthinking technologists, using the same scientific and engineering paradigms that built the wing that "held up" this amazing plane.  For some reason I imagined a metaphorical Earth that had been "scratched" by my fellow man; and it was bleeding.  I looked down through tear-filled eyes, and whispered to the Earth: "I'm sorry; I'll try to heal you!"

Ever since that moment last January 14, in NASA's DC-8 research plane, I've actually felt the "connection" my work may have with solving an important environmental problem.  I work for Caltech's Jet Propulsion Laboratory, and I'm a Principal Investigator for one of the instruments included on both the Antarctic and Arctic airborne expeditions, AAOE and AASE.  My instrument is on the ER-2, but flying on the DC-8 as an observer is what produced the experience that enabled me to see the connection.

I made a vow to myself, which I whispered to the beloved Earth in a private moment, that I would try to help.  Before then my tendency was to shrug off the consequences of environmental neglect with some sort of cynical remark, such as "people get what they deserve."  But it's more than just people!  It's the Earth, an Earth that gave us life, that has given forth all life, which sustains many more wondrous creatures than us troublesome Humans.  We are just one species on this "living planet," and we have a responsibility, by virtue of our powerful understanding and insight, as well as our role in creating the environmental threat, to take a responsible, caring custody of our planet, and of the other life forms with whom we should share in gratitude.

The venerable principle of "noblesse oblige" states that the powerful should have a compassionate interest in looking after those less powerful, that the wise should patiently instruct those with less knowledge or wisdom.  The middle years in a person's life, when we are strong and capable, are usually devoted to caring for children, perhaps caring for one's own parents.  It is a similar "obligation" that motivates the environmentally enlightened to feel responsible for the Earth; an Earth that, by producing the entire interacting web of living things, gave birth to ourselves.  We Humans of this generation comprise just one link of a chain that "wants" to extend forever, and all future generations are dependent on our present actions.  We Humans are the species that understands how the world works, and it is our responsibility to use our understanding during this crucial time.  We must try to secure a safe passage of all Earth's living species and deliver them safely to the future.  The Earth needs the efforts of more people who have crossed the bridge of awareness to this "new consciousness."

My "love affair" with Life on Earth has been an ambivalent one.  At mid-life I am still struggling to understand root causes for the predicaments Humanity creates for itself.  Slowly, I've come to appreciate what I believe to be a more comprehensive view of root causes.  And I think this viewpoint may someday be helpful in guiding the formulation of effective policies.  I intend to write about these matters at some future date.  Meanwhile, we scientists who have seen "the connection" will do our part in improving our understanding of present and future threats.

I had a second flight on the DC-8, but I'm reluctant to talk about it.  It happened about 3 weeks after my consciousness-raising flight over Iceland.  I had asked the project if I could be a guest observer on one more DC-8 flight so that I could try again to see and experience mountain waves.  I might also have wanted to re-experience that emotional connection with the Living Earth that occurred over Iceland.

Our flight track for the February 7 flight went over Greenland.  I would have liked a flight over the North Pole, just to be able to say I had flown there, but since Greenland had more prospects for producing mountain waves I was happy.

My anticipation grew while flying over a hostile Arctic sea.  As we neared the Greenland coast I stared out the window, as I had done for my sighting of Iceland.  Upon seeing Greenland I first felt comfort, as with Iceland; and I wondered if there would be some similar revelation for me.  And then it happened.  A feeling began to overcome me.  But this time it was different, and I was not prepared for the "message."

"Thanks for your concern," the feeling seemed to be saying, "I may be scarred and bleeding, due to your fellow man's abuse, but please don't help!"

I couldn't believe it!  Those words are the closest I can come to conveying the feeling of the message that overcame me.  "Let me bleed!  Man cannot help me!  We can heal ourself without Man!  Without Man, we can heal ourself!"

"Oh no!" I exclaimed to myself, "does that mean what I think it means?"

"This has happened before, and it just has to run its course.  Man will eventually suffocate himself, and we, the Living Planet, will heal ourself!"

I looked back, and the Greenland coast was going out of sight.  I checked the flight track map to see if we'd be flying near Iceland.  But no.  And I was left with this horrifying thought.  What if that is the only solution?  Is it true that the rest of life on the Earth would be better off without Mankind?  When we Humans try to help, are we merely stretching out the agony of the Planet, and postponing our inevitable extinction, and the planetary healing process that will follow?

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This site opened:  October 30, 1998.   Last Update: October 30, 1998