I believe the biggest hurdle humankind faces in stopping or altering the damaging impact greenhouse gases have on the earth is our insatiable need to move. Humans are restless. We are more than restless; we are frantic. Our easy access to cars, airplanes and anything gas-powered; our mania for movement quickly translates into clouds of exhaust, and clouds of exhaust are responsible for one third of greenhouse gases.

It is not enough just to identify a destructive aspect of our psyche and start wagging a finger. We must try to understand attributes shared by all human beings. Until now, restlessness has served us very well by hastening the spread of humans into every corner of the world, and pushing us to invent new ways of doing things.

Humans do not stand alone in their drive to expand traditional ranges. Birds, mammals, and insects all drive outward from their starting point, stopping only when they encounter unfavourable conditions such as cold, lack of food, water, or suitable habitats. Very adaptable creatures faced with large challenges undergo change, and surge beyond inhospitable frontiers. Humans aided by the discovery of fire build, carry, or create suitable mini-environments useful for pioneering new territory, expanding, and thriving where others might not.

But fighting the natural need of biological creatures to expand their range is not where I think the human problem of today lies. The seat of our restlessness is an ability to imagine things some other way than the way they are. We imagine our lives, ourselves, our world, some other way, and in doing so we stir up irrepressible longings such as sadness, anger, remorse, etc. Whatever emotions erupt from the mental scenarios we create need to be assuaged, or made to disappear, so they don't become obsessions.

One way to assuage a longing is by acting. And with ready access to automobiles, planes, and motor boats, our action often takes the form of driving. Of course our rationale mind convinces us we are not driving aimlessly; we are driving, or flying, or riding a recreational vehicle for some very good cause. So, with clear consciences and longings soothed, we drive and drive.

Presently, in BC, a five-year plan to collect data on nesting birds is underway. The only way it would be possible for me to participate in this undertaking would be by doing a lot of driving, so I face the question. Will the information I gather offset the destruction of doing a heck of a lot of driving? Driving that I would not do, if I did not participate?

For me, there is no clear answer. Can I continue to act as I have always done? Can the world absorb the continuation of my current behaviour and still leave me with the quality of life I think I deserve?

I do not avoid these questions even when the questions cannot be conclusively answered. I see this kind of guilt as a good guilt. It springs from our intelligence and demands that we see actions as choices with consequences, and then asks whether our next choice will be made with eyes wide open, or those of blind, self-indulgent creatures. Perhaps our responsibility and reward for foresight and guilt will be a hand in shaping something our imaginative mind calls the future.