As I sit in my backyard in Abuja, Nigeria, looking out at the expansive landscape around me, I can’t help but feel a deep sense of loss. The rolling hills, once vibrant with a rich carpet of wild ferns, daisies, lupines and goldenrod, are now dotted with invasive species that have suffocated the native flora. The river, which once reflected the deep blue sky, fish and dragonflies darting about, and a crystal clear river, is now muddy with dirt and pollutants from nearby construction and agriculture.
This sense of loss and dislocation, a combination of nostalgia for what once was and deep sadness for what has irrevocably changed, has a name: solastalgy. Solastalgia, a term coined by philosopher Glenn Albrecht, describes the mental distress caused by environmental change, especially when it affects the place we call home. Essentially, it’s the feeling of being homesick when you’re at home.
But despite these feelings, there is hope. Solastalgia inspired me. It serves as a powerful motivator for environmental protection and restoration. It reminds us of the intrinsic value of nature and the importance of its management. When we acknowledge our grief and turn it into positive action, we empower ourselves to fight for the landscapes we love, protect biodiversity, and turn our grief into concrete ideas for change. I will change it to a step. Our bond with nature is strong and worth nurturing for future generations.
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As a child, I spent countless hours in the woods behind my childhood home, surrounded by majestic oaks with sweeping canopies, pines soaring to the sky, and graceful willows swaying gently by the river. Ta. I often found myself nestled in an ancient pine, and as I wandered beneath its branches, its earthy scent grounded me. The forest was my sanctuary. Each tree had a story and a memory attached to it. The laughter of our friends echoing through the forest canopy as we played hide and seek, the sunlight filtering through the leaves casting dappled shadows on the forest floor, and the quiet moments spent leaning against tree trunks, feeling a sense of oneness with nature. I remember the moment.
When I returned to Japan after five years at university, I was surprised to find that the ecosystem had changed dramatically. As climate change accelerates and development encroaches on familiar spaces, I find myself facing an unsettling reality. The vivid tapestry of my childhood is unraveling. In its place lies a landscape marked by change. Change feels invasive and foreign.
Today, in my backyard, I remember a day many years ago when I encountered a friendly female waterbuck while wandering through the lush Stubbs Creek forest. The forest was home to playful squirrels and the occasional fox scampering through the undergrowth. The chirping of robins and warblers and the buzzing of insects created a symphony that felt like home. Now I realize that many of those trees have been cut down and replaced with barren residential areas devoid of life and character.
Nestled within this vibrant landscape is Lake Ibeno. I was proud of its clear water, where families of ducks and geese often swam gracefully. The lake was a place of joy. A place for summer swims, lazy afternoons spent floating on a raft, and evenings filled with the laughter of friends gathered around a bonfire. Here I learned the rhythms of nature. Now I watch with dismay as algae blooms and clogs the water, turning it a murky green color.
My emotional turmoil is not unique to me. It resonates with many people who are witnessing similar changes in their own environments. A deep sense of solastalgy manifests itself in an often overlooked sadness: sadness for a place rather than a person. It’s a longing for a connection that feels increasingly out of reach as the landscape we once knew and loved is irrevocably altered.
Every time we see familiar landmarks disappear or beloved habitats shrink, we see how a once-vivid tapestry of biodiversity is being transformed into a homogenized landscape. I can’t help but think about it. This change causes an unstable tilt of the natural equilibrium state. Although climate change is the fundamental cause, pollution from nearby industrial parks also contributes significantly to the deterioration of the natural environment. Deforestation, fueled by the relentless pursuit of urban development, continues to erode vast tracts of forest, and unsustainable resource extraction strips the land of its natural resources, leaving scars that are slow to heal.
We can’t just sit back and watch. Immediately upon returning to Japan, I began to educate myself about conservation efforts, motivated by the changes I witnessed in the environment. I joined a local conservation organization and participated in tree planting efforts to restore native species and combat the invasion of non-native flora. I also participated in the Lake Ibeno cleanup, rallying friends and family to help remove trash and debris from the shoreline and restore its natural beauty. Education is also essential. I strive to raise community awareness about the importance of protecting natural spaces.
In conversations with family and friends, I learned that solastalgy is a common experience. We often remember the places that have influenced our lives and recall the landscapes of our youth. There is a somber tone to these discussions as we realize that our memories are becoming more tied to what is being lost rather than what is left. The world is changing, and we are changing as a result.
As I reflect on my journey with solastalgy, I realize that it is not just a sense of loss, but also a call to reconnect. It inspires us to find new ways to engage with our environment, create memories in the face of change, and celebrate the beauty that still exists despite hardship. The landscape may change, but our appreciation for it remains steadfast, reminding us that our bond with nature is resilient and worth nurturing for future generations. I’ll give it to you.
In a time when environmental concerns loom large, Solastalgia serves as a poignant reminder of the risks involved. It encourages us to value our home, advocate for its protection, and develop a deep-rooted sense of responsibility for the world in which we live. As we face the realities of a changing climate, our collective commitment to creating a thriving future for both people and planet in a harmonious balance that fosters not just memories but a vibrant tapestry of life. May you find solace in your abilities as well.
This is an opinion article. The views expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of: scientific american.
