Like much of the world, I woke up early this morning to the news that America had bombed three locations in Iran.
Getting back to sleep was impossible.
The headlines rolled around in my mind, tightening like a knot in my chest. The familiar ache of anxiety crept in. So I gave up on sleep, left the hotel, and drove out to Curracloe Beach, hoping the fresh sea air might clear my head.
The irony wasn’t lost on me—choosing to walk along the very beach where Saving Private Ryan’s harrowing D-Day scene was filmed, trying to forget about war.
The wind hit me like a slap as I stepped onto the sand. But slowly, it started to “blow the cobwebs away.” The crashing waves, the endless stretch of pale sand, the mountains in the distance—it all looked so… right. Untouched. How the Earth was meant to be, before we decided to bulldoze it all for convenience, greed, or some fragile concept of power.
I wasn’t the only one wandering the shoreline. Braver souls were throwing themselves into the icy surf. Runners zipped past me—(not hard, let’s be honest). Horses galloped past, kicking up clouds of sand in their wake.
Then a loud squawk cut through the air.
A trio of seagulls and a murder of crows were locked in a full-blown turf war over the carcass of some poor sea creature. They jabbed and danced around each other until there was nothing left but a shell.
But here's the thing: that’s nature.
It was the food chain in action. Brutal, yes. But necessary. Not one of them killed more than they needed. Not one hoarded leftovers for a later day. Not one burned the beach behind them.
No species—except ours—wipes out its own habitat.
No other animal wages war for power, or territory, or oil.
No other creature is actively endangering the survival of its own species.
Just us.
Just a few f@*king stupid humans, dragging the whole planet to the brink.
So much for my peaceful walk.
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