Saudade of a Green Future: A Solastalgic Reflection on the Closing Year
As we stand at the edge of 2024, with landscapes scorched, forests felled, rivers drying, and communities displaced, there is a tremor in the air that feels both ancient and immediate. It is a sensation rooted in grief for what is lost and an aching desire for a future we may never know. This is solastalgia—the existential distress caused by the unraveling of one’s home environment—compounded with saudade, a deeply Portuguese yearning for a beloved future just out of reach.
The earth sings a song of mourning… Fires rage where forests once thrived, floods rush through streets that once felt familiar, and the air itself hums with displacement. In this Planthroposcene, as Natasha Myers urges, we are called to grow liveable worlds, to conspire with the plants that breathe us into being. But how do we do so when the symphony of the earth is punctuated by catastrophe?
For the Portuguese, saudade is not merely a word; it is a way of being, a bittersweet thread running through our stories and songs. It is the ghost of a memory never fully realized, the shadow of something beloved and distant. It is our fado. In this era of climate urgency, saudade takes on new forms: a longing for the verdant forests that once shaded our ancestors, for rivers that flowed unimpeded to the sea, for a future where children can still hear birdsong in the morning.
Our landscapes carry wounds etched by centuries of extraction, colonial legacies, and relentless progress. The very air carries solastalgia—a homesickness for the present moment, for the places we love even as they change before our eyes. The forests and fields, once companions in our collective memory, now whisper of loss and fragility.
But in this ache, there is also a seed of possibility. As Myers writes, “we need to learn not just how to collaborate, but also how to conspire with the plants, to breathe with them”. Perhaps in saudade, we can find the blueprint for a green future yet to be imagined—a future where we remember that we are not alone, where our breath and the breath of plants intertwine in mutual survival.
In this delicate dance of saudade and solastalgia, we are suspended between grief and hope. For me to be Portuguese is to know, question, and heal the weight of the past, to feel the echoes of voyages, losses, dreams, and shadows that sailed beyond the horizon. To live in the world today is to feel the weight of a planet unraveling, to sense that the horizon we once reached for is slipping away. Yet in both these forms of longing, there lies a profound invitation: to remember, reconnect, and reimagine.
Perhaps the green future we long for is not lost but waiting, rooted in our willingness to see the world through new eyes. Traditional ecological knowledge (TEK) reminds us that the land is not a resource to be exploited, but a network of relationships to be honored and nurtured. The plants, as ancient allies, offer us the wisdom to heal these broken connections. They are, as Myers writes, world-makers who can teach us how to grow liveable worlds if we only learn to conspire with them.
We must ask ourselves: Can we turn saudade into action? Can we transform solastalgia into a renewed commitment to care for our shared home? It is no longer enough to mourn what is lost; we must cultivate what can still be saved. The forests that have burned may sprout new life if we protect their roots. The rivers that have dried may flow again if we tend to their sources. The communities displaced by flood and fire may find new ground to stand upon if we stand with them.
Though we close the door on 2024 with the weight of its challenges, we can still open a window to hope. In the words of Robin Wall Kimmerer, “Restoration is a powerful antidote to despair”. To restore is not just to heal the land, but to heal ourselves, to weave back together the threads that bind us to the more-than-human world. It is to acknowledge that we are part of this living, breathing web and that our future depends on its flourishing.
So let us plant seeds—literal and metaphorical. Seeds of resilience, of solidarity, of reverence for the green world that sustains us. Let us breathe with the plants, knowing that their breath is our breath. Let us root ourselves in the earth, even as storms shake the branches above. In the fertile ground of saudade, let us cultivate a vision of a world where nature’s song is not one of mourning, but of renewal.
In this space of remembering and reimagining, the natural world holds out its hand. The plants that breathe us into existence, the waters that shape our lands, the soils that cradle our roots — they whisper of both grief and resilience. The forests we mourn and the rivers we miss are not just symbols of loss; they are invitations to repair and restore. To feel saudade is to acknowledge that something precious remains, even if only in memory or potential.
In this time of unraveling, traditional ecological knowledge reminds us that survival depends not on dominance, but on relationship. We are called to move beyond the destructive logics of colonization, extraction and exploitation. To conspire — to breathe together — is an act of intimacy and solidarity. It is a refusal to be severed from the web of life.
Let us then turn solastalgia — that deep, unsettling homesickness for the present — into a catalyst for action. What if, instead of despair, we planted hope? What if every act of remembrance was also an act of renewal?
To question and heal the weight of the past is a commitment to change. It is acknowledging the shadows of history and choosing to cultivate a different future — one where we honor the intelligence of plants, the wisdom of Indigenous stewards, and the interconnectedness of all life.
In the end, perhaps saudade is not just a longing for what was, but a yearning for what could be — a greener, more just, more compassionate world. A world where the air is filled not with smoke and lament, but with the quiet joy of leaves rustling, water flowing, and seeds sprouting in defiance of despair.
Let us be gardeners of this hope. Let us conspire with the plants, breathe with the trees, and heal with the land. For in this mutual care, there lies the promise of a future worth longing for — and worth creating.
As we close this year of 2024, with all its challenges and reckonings, I hold onto the hope that 2025 may be a year of awakening and peace— for ourselves, for our communities, and for the planet we call home. May it be a year where we breathe deeply in togetherness with the world around us, reconnect with nature's wisdom, and conspire with the green world to heal, remember, and reimagine.
Whatever traditions you hold close, may this season offer you moments of reflection, renewal, and gentle joy. Let us step into the new year with open hearts, ready to cultivate the seeds of a future where all life can flourish.
With gratitude and hope,
Patrícia (aka Madame Planta🌿✨)
References 📚🌿✨:
Natasha Myers, How to Grow Liveable Worlds: Ten (Not-So-Easy) Steps for Life in the Planthroposcene (ABC Religion & Ethics, 2021).
Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants (Milkweed Editions, 2013).
Jack Hunter, What About Traditional Ecological Knowledge? Further Thoughts on "Are Plants Sentient?"(EdgeScience, March 2021).