David McElroy

Do you want to save the planet?

Uh, sure, I guess so.

Do you want a clean environment for everyone in the future?

Of course. Doesn’t everyone?

Or are you a “science denier” who’s out of touch with realty and is in bed with Big Oil?

Of course not. I’m a smart person and I love science. So tell me what I’m supposed to believe!

That’s roughly how the debate on climate change plays out today from those who argue what has become the orthodox position — that human activity is causing the planet to get a warmer and that the increased warmth will cause catastrophic effects.

If you look at the evidence and come to any other conclusion — or if you’re even skeptical about the political solutions presented — you are labeled a “denier,” in a very dishonest attempt to link climate skepticism with Holocaust denial.

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I am terrified of not being perfect — mortally afraid of being judged as unworthy.

For many years, I’ve mostly stuck to doing things I already knew how to do. That was safer. I had been writing for the public since I was in high school. I had taken photos and done graphic design — for newspapers, magazines and advertising — since I was a teen.

My work wasn’t perfect, but I was competent enough to feel like an expert. I could put my work in front of the public — expose myself in a very real way — without fear of looking too foolish.

Lately, I’ve been trying something at which I’m a beginner. I’m a rank amateur. And I am terrified.

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The sheets of rain lash down, almost maniacal in their resolve to pound everything in the way.

The lightning flashes blindingly. For a split second, there is silence, followed by the booming thunder nearby.

The water pounds and pounds. The thunder rumbles. The lightning comes again.

The storm is hitting my windshield and the wipers struggle to move the water. Their back and forth motion is hypnotic — and I wonder whether the storm I feel and hear and fear is really outside — or if it’s inside my heart.

It’s dark and it’s loud and it’s gloomy. The storm outside the car threatens me physically, but the storm inside threatens something far deeper. Far more existential. It’s pounding on my very core again.

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