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A reusable British shopping bag. Wikimedia A new national study released by Ceres in partnership with Northwind Climate explores how US adults think about the environment when they shop for goods and what drives—or prevents—them from acting on those intentions. Drawing on monthly surveys of more than 2,500 adults, the research finds that interest in sustainable products has grown in recent years; yet, structural and psychological barriers still influence purchase decisions. The report identifies a value-action gap  that says that while many consumers express a preference for environmentally friendly goods, actual purchases depend on trust, perceived value, and clarity of sustainability information. The study uses Northwind Climate’s Value Segmentation model to show that psychological motivation—not age, income, or demographics—better predicts whether someone will follow through on sustainable shopping intentions. Highlights from the Study Of the more than 2,500 US adults polled monthly, 3 in 4 consumers now actively or passively prefer environmentally friendly goods. More than half of respondents report their interest in buying sustainable products has grown in the past few years. Two-thirds of Americans are willing to pay more for sustainable products, even if others won’t know they did so. High earners and highly motivated consumers are more likely to pay more for sustainable products, with 36% of those earning more than $150,000 agreeing they are more likely to “choose the sustainable option even if it costs more.” Cost, perceived quality, and lack of credibility remain key reasons consumers opt out at the point of purchase, with 23% saying they would buy the sustainable option if it cost about the same as the one they normally buy. Important Takeaway The report’s segmentation shows that psychology—not demographics—best predicts sustainable purchase behavior, ranging from highly motivated “Climate Doers” to skeptical “Climate Deniers.” The full report is available from Ceres’ Resources page.

Countries’ Emission Mitigations Effective Even as Economies Expand Annual emissions of carbon dioxide, by country, for the six countries with the most annual emissions. RCraig09 / Wikimedia A decade after the landmark 2015 Paris Agreement, new analysis  from the UK’s Energy and Climate Intelligence Unit (ECIU) reveals a striking shift: Economic expansion no longer guarantees carbon emissions growth, thanks to countries’ carbon emission mitigation efforts. The 2025 ECIU report, “10 Years Post-Paris: How emissions decoupling has progressed globally,” examines emissions and GDP trends across 113 countries, offering the most comprehensive look yet at decoupling since Paris. While global CO₂ emissions continue to rise, there is clear momentum toward cleaner energy growth—many economies are now growing without a corresponding rise in emissions, and an expanding group are even reducing emissions in absolute terms while their economies expand. Here are key data points from the report: The 113 nations examined represented more than 97% of global GDP and 93% of global emissions. Ninety-two percent of global GDP is in countries that have absolutely  or relatively  decoupled CO₂ emissions from economic growth since 2015. The study defines absolute decoupling as emissions falling even as GDP grows and  relative decoupling as emissions rising more slowly than GDP. Eighty-nine percent of global emissions come from decoupled economies—up sharply from the pre-Paris era. Growth in decoupling before the Paris Agreement (2005–2014): 32 countries achieved absolute decoupling. 35 countries achieved relative decoupling. Growth in decoupling since Paris (2015–2023): 43 countries achieved absolute decoupling (emissions falling while GDP grows). 40 countries achieved relative decoupling. Countries with absolute decoupling now represent 46.3% of global GDP and 36.1% of global emissions. The share of the global economy (GDP) in decoupled economies has climbed from 77% before Paris to 92% post-Paris. Global annual CO₂ emissions have effectively plateaued  since 2015, rising by only about 1.17% over eight years, compared with an 18.4% increase in the decade before Paris. Significance of the Findings Aggregate global CO₂ emissions growth has slowed markedly in the Paris era compared with the decade before, illustrating structural shifts in energy systems (less rapid emissions growth relative to economic expansion). The findings suggest that decoupling—once seen as a theoretical goal—is now a practical reality for most of the world’s economy. This trend offers policymakers evidence that economic development and climate action can be mutually compatible, though substantial emissions reductions must accelerate further to meet net-zero targets. The full ECIU report, “10 Years Post-Paris: How emissions decoupling has progressed globally,” was published Dec. 11, 2025.

More and more plastic is polluting the natural world. iStock In 2020, the Pew Charitable Trusts and SYSTEMIQ published Breaking the Plastic Wave , a pioneering report that detailed how global plastic pollution was projected to nearly triple by 2040 unless bold action was taken to significantly curb pollution. Five years later, Pew’s Breaking the Plastic Wave 2025  update offers a more complete picture of how plastics are impacting people, economies, and ecosystems worldwide. The new report revisits the original projections but expands the analysis beyond ocean pollution to include land, air, human health, and climate impacts. It also offers modeling of scenarios showing how ambitious, coordinated action could nearly reverse the trajectory of plastic pollution within a generation. Key Data from Breaking the Plastic Wave 2025 In 2025, approximately 130 million metric tons (Mt) of plastic polluted the environment—including on land, in the air, and in water. Without mitigation, this figure is projected to rise to 280 Mt per year by 2040—equivalent to dumping a garbage truck’s worth of plastic waste every second. Annual primary plastic production is expected to grow 52%, from about 450 Mt in 2025 to 680 Mt in 2040, far outpacing improvements in waste management.  Even with investments, waste collection and disposal capacity is projected to increase only 26% by 2040.  Thus, the proportion of uncollected plastic waste is expected to rise from 19% to 34% over the same period.  Health impacts associated with plastic production, use, and pollution are projected to increase by 75% by 2040 if no action is taken.  Annual government spending on plastic collection and disposal is projected to reach $140 billion by 2040—roughly 30% higher than in 2025. Annual greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions from the global plastic system could rise by 58% by 2040, totaling about 4.2 gigatons CO₂ equivalent.   Microplastics comprised 13% of global plastic pollution in 2025.  Key pollution sources include tire wear and paint (10 Mt each), agriculture (3 Mt), and recycling processes (2 Mt). Without intervention, microplastic pollution could rise from 17 Mt to 26 Mt annually by 2040. Important Takeaway: The 2025 update to Breaking the Plastic Wave  finds the plastic pollution problem is larger and more complex than previously quantified. Yet, the new report also shows that strategic, integrated action could drastically reduce pollution and unlock economic and social benefits if implemented swiftly and globally.

A New Technology Aims to Shrink One of Construction’s Biggest Carbon Footprints Research engineer Casey Jones inspects a drying belt at Alithic's demonstration plant in Madison, Wisconsin, which combines carbon dioxide from the atmosphere with ash and other industrial wastes to make a low-cost, carbon-negative building material.   Chris Hubbuch/Wisconsin Energy Institute A University of Wisconsin–Madison spinoff is advancing a technology  that turns two major industrial pollutants—carbon dioxide and coal ash—into a building material that can replace a key component of conventional cement and cut greenhouse-gas emissions associated with concrete production. Alithic, founded in 2023 by UW–Madison engineers, uses a chemical process that pulls CO₂ directly from the air and reacts it with industrial waste like coal ash to produce supplementary cementitious material (SCM). The resulting mineral product  acts as a binding agent in concrete, offering strength comparable to, or in some cases exceeding, traditional Portland cement while sequestering carbon rather than releasing it. Concrete is central to global infrastructure but is also a major climate challenge . Ordinary Portland cement is responsible for roughly 7%–8% of global CO₂ emissions  due to the high-heat calcination of limestone and fossil fuel use in clinker production. In contrast, Alithic’s process  operates at ambient temperatures in a modified capture unit, binding carbon into solid mineral form with modest energy requirements. Handling Two Waste Streams at Once At a demonstration plant in Madison, the five-person Alithic team is refining the process by running ambient air over a sodium hydroxide solution that absorbs CO₂. That carbonated solution is then mixed with coal ash or other industrial wastes, where the CO₂ mineralizes with silicates and calcium to form SCM. A belt filter dries the product while recycling  the alkaline solution for reuse. Coal ash—a by-product of coal-fired power plants—poses environmental risks  in landfills and containment ponds, including groundwater contamination. By upcycling this material into construction inputs, Alithic’s approach addresses two waste streams at once . Prof. Rob Anex explains the process for creating a useful cement ingredient from two separate waste streams. Chris Hubbuch/Wisconsin Energy Institute Unlike most direct-air-capture technologies, which require significant energy , the Alithic method is comparatively efficient , according to cofounder and engineering professor Rob Anex. The company has moved from laboratory proof-of-concept to an operational demonstration plant  and is now fundraising to build a ton-scale pilot facility at the National Carbon Capture Center in Wilsonville, Alabama. Alithic’s product has attracted attention in the cleantech community: The company was named to Cleantech Group’s  list of 50 early-stage innovators working on breakthrough sustainability technologies and was a finalist in the CEMEX Ventures green construction startup competition. While the company initially pursued carbon removal as part of its business model—including signing a contract to remove 285 tons of CO₂ for corporate buyers—it has shifted focus toward commercial SCM sales. As Anex notes, customers are primarily motivated by performance and cost rather than climate benefits, although the embedded carbon capture is a valuable differentiator. Alithic’s development comes amid global innovation  in low-carbon cement and concrete technologies, including startups using electrochemical processes to avoid CO₂ emissions entirely and industry efforts to reduce clinker and harness industrial by-products. If scaled successfully, these alternatives could play an essential role in decarbonizing one of the hardest-to-abate sectors  and help shift the construction industry toward materials that build infrastructure and combat climate change simultaneously.

Technique Could Address Pollution and Climate Change Simultaneously The material BAETA is “upcycled” from PET plastic through a chemical process. Max Emil Madsen/University of Copenhagen A team of chemis ts at the University of Copenhagen has developed a promising new method  to transform common PET plastic waste—the plastic most frequently used in bottles, food packaging, and textiles —into a carbon-capture material with potential uses in industrial emissions control, offering a rare dual solution  to plastic pollution and climate change. The breakthrough centers on a chemical process called aminolysis , in which discarded polyethylene terephthalate (PET) is treated with 1,2-ethylenediamine at a mild temperature of about 60 °C for 24 hours. This simple, solvent- and catalyst-free reaction breaks down the long polymer chains and rebuilds them into a new compound named N¹,N⁴-bis(2-aminoethyl)terephthalamide (BAETA for short). The BAETA product is a powdery, pelletizable material  that has shown excellent carbon dioxide capture performance. Laboratory tests  indicate it can selectively bind CO₂ from environments as varied as industrial flue gas and ambient air, even under humid conditions. BAETA’s chemical stability up to at least 250°C makes it suitable for deployment in high-temperature emissions streams, a key requirement for many industrial carbon-capture scenarios. A Process Scalable and Regenerable One of the most striking aspects of the research is its scalability: The process has already been demonstrated at the kilogram level using actual consumer PET waste, not just laboratory reagent plastics. This suggests that, with further development, the method could be applied to real waste streams  rather than idealized samples. Another advantage of BAETA is its regenerability. After binding CO₂, the material can be heated to about 150°C to release the captured gas, allowing the same BAETA sorbent to be reused across many cycles  without significant degradation—an important practical and economic featur e for industrial carbon-capture technologies. Working in their lab are two members of the team of scientists who created the new carbon-capture material. Max Emil Madsen/University of Copenhagen Researchers emphasize that their approach does not conflict with conventional recycling systems. Instead, BAETA production targets PET that is difficult to recycle—such as mixed or colored plastics —leaving higher-quality feedstock for traditional mechanical recycling efforts. Published in Science Advances , this work  adds to a growing field of plastic upcycling strategies that aim to create value-added products from waste—an important shift in thinking as global plastics production continues to climb and the need for scalable carbon management tools becomes more urgent. If successfully scaled, the technology could pave a pathway toward tackling two of the world’s most entrenched environmental challenges—plastic pollution and greenhouse gas emissions—with a single, chemistry-driven solution .

An eco-unfriendly gift. iStock Maybe it’s time to show nature a little more love on Valentine’s Day. With increased scrutiny of the environmental footprint of human activities, there are many ways in which the traditional ways of celebrating the holiday of love do not benefit the environment. Valentine’s Day’s Eco-Footprint: Last year (2025), consumers in the UK were expected  to spend £1.37 billion ($1.6 billion) on Valentine’s Day. Valentine’s Day has the highest percentage  of flowers purchased per holiday in the US. About 80% of them are imported, mostly from Colombia and Ecuador, where high amounts of pesticides, fertilizers, and water are used to grow them.  In 2024, the US  spent an estimated $2.6 billion on Valentine’s Day flowers —the majority of them roses.  Global  cut flower sales for Valentine’s are greater than $5 billion.  According to an article  in Green Horizons , an online publication of All-Ireland Sustainability, it is estimated that 1.3 billion greeting cards are purchased in the UK each year, with only a fraction recycled. An estimated  145 million Valentine’s Day cards are exchanged annually, many of which end up in landfills. Cards with glitter, foil, or plastic embellishments cannot be recycled. Despite a steady decrease in the number of Americans celebrating Valentine’s Day— just 54.5%  on average over the past 13 years—the average person spent $23.75  on Valentine cards over the past 11 years. Americans consume  58 million pounds of chocolate  each year over the week of Valentine's Day. Producing a pound of chocolate takes over  1,180 gallons of water . A Florida university  institute suggests giving locally sourced plants and flowers; organic fair-trade chocolates; sending digital greeting cards; and going for walks, making homemade dinners, or volunteering together as environmentally friendly Valentine’s Day traditions.

Deep-Sea Trench Expeditions Reveal Rich Ecosystems, Reshaping Views of Life’s Limits Tubeworms are dominant at 6,870 meters (22,500 feet) at the Aleutian Trench, with spots of white microbial mats interspersed. Credit: Institute of Deep-sea Science and Engineering, CAS (IDSSE, CAS) A series of recent deep-ocean expeditions have uncovered astonishing animal communities  thriving at extreme depths—in places long thought too hostile for complex life. These findings , drawn from multiple trench systems in the Pacific Ocean, are expanding scientists’ understanding of how life adapts to crushing pressure, perpetual darkness, and scarce food resources. The most dramatic discoveries come from the Mariana Trench and nearby hadal trenches —the deepest parts of the world’s oceans. Using the Chinese submersible Fendouzhe , researchers made repeated dives, observing colonies of tubeworms, bivalves (clams and other mollusks), crustaceans, sea cucumbers, and other invertebrates thriving at depths approaching 9.5 kilometers (nearly 6 miles) below sea level. These are the deepest known animal communities  documented to date. Unlike most ecosystems that rely on sunlight and photosynthesis, these deep-sea communities derive their energy  through chemosynthesis—a process by which microbes convert chemicals like hydrogen sulfide and methane seeping from the ocean floor into usable energy. Larger animals either feed on these microbes or maintain symbiotic relationships with them. Life’s Adaptability Video and imagery released  alongside the research show dense fields of tubeworms, some nearly a foot long, interspersed with beds of bivalves and clusters of other invertebrates. Scientists also observed free-floating marine worms, sea lilies, and spiky crustaceans—an unexpectedly complex community for such extreme conditions. These ecosystems  were found not only in the Mariana Trench but span at least 1,500 miles across hadal trenches that include the Kuril-Kamchatka and Aleutian systems, hinting that chemosynthesis-based communities may be far more widespread than previously thought. The discoveries are forcing researchers to rethink ocean biology and the so-called “limits” of life. In addition to macrofauna, deeper biological investigations—like the MEER project’s metagenomic surveys —reveal astonishing microbial diversity  at similar depths, with thousands of previously undocumented species exhibiting unique evolutionary adaptations to pressure and nutrient scarcity. These findings are timely as governments and industry explore deep-sea mining for minerals—a practice that scientists warn could irreparably damage fragile ecosystems  that science is only beginning to understand. Studying these deep communities not only enriches knowledge of Earth’s biodiversity but also informs broader questions about life’s resilience—including the possibility of similar ecosystems on icy ocean worlds beyond Earth. Life Adapted to Extremes Researchers say the animals inhabiting these hadal-zone ecosystems survive through a suite of remarkable physiological and biochemical adaptations . At pressures exceeding 1,000 times that at sea level, many organisms possess pressure-tolerant proteins and cell membranes that remain flexible rather than collapsing under compression. Genetic analyses show altered enzyme structures  that continue functioning despite intense pressure and near-freezing temperatures. Some species  exhibit slow metabolic rates, conserving energy in an environment where food is scarce and unpredictable. Microbial studies  suggest that many deep-sea organisms also carry genes associated with DNA repair, helping them withstand constant cellular stress.

Healing Minds, Building Resilience, Restoring a Sense of Belonging By Deborah Harvey* Simply blowing a dandelion seedhead can be a fountain of joy for urban youngsters. People Images/iStock In many cities, childhood unfolds amid concrete, traffic, and persistent dirt and noise, conditions that shape the emotional and physical well-being of young people growing up in dense, underprivileged urban environments . In these settings, access to nature is often a luxury. Urban density limits access to safe, quiet outdoor spaces, particularly in lower-income neighborhoods where green space is unevenly distributed and opportunities for restorative contact with nature  are rare. Yet, even in these difficult conditions, simple pieces of nature, like a tree on the street, a schoolyard with grass, or a nearby park, can provide important moments of relief . Research shows  that these modest encounters with nature can significantly support the mental and emotional well-being of inner-city youth, especially when these spaces are accessible and used regularly. “I think love of nature is just in us,” says  Allan Fein, a coordinator for the Sierra Club’s Inner City Outings program, whose job it is to take kids a big step further from simple urban greenery to experience a taste of actual backcountry. “It just takes getting these kids into the wilderness for them to experience it so they can actually start cultivating that.” Why Nature Matters for Developing Minds Childhood and adolescence are periods of rapid cognitive and emotional development. During this time, environmental conditions, whether they be chaotic or nurturing, can strongly influence mental health outcomes, as documented  across multiple reviews of child development and nature exposure. In dense urban environments, young people are frequently exposed to chronic stressors such as overcrowding, air pollution, and environmental noise, all of which are linked to elevated psychological stress and reduced attentional capacity over time. These daily realities create emotional scars that may not be visible but are deeply felt, leading to heightened stress, anxiety, and a sense of powerlessness. For many young people, it is difficult to focus on anything beyond immediate survival, and their emotional and cognitive development can suffer as a result . Exposure to natural environments provides relief. Evidence suggests  that nature supports emotional regulation, helping to reset the mind from daily stressors and offering a space to reclaim peace in the midst of chaos. Nature offers not just a break from the noise but a restorative moment, where children and teens can feel a sense of calm and emotional safety amid the storm of their daily lives.   Just having a bush or saplings nearby an urban school provides a psychoemotional boost for children, and helps with studying and learning. Zinkevych/iStock Beyond stress reduction, researchers  have increasingly examined how natural environments support cognitive restoration during childhood and adolescence. Attention Restoration Theory  suggests that nature engages the mind in a gentle, unconscious way, allowing directed attention to recover from fatigue. “Natural environments engage attention without effort,” writes environmental psychologist Stephen Kaplan, “allowing depleted directed attention to recover .” For urban youth, whose environments often demand constant vigilance and self-control, even brief contact with natural settings, like walking past trees on the way to school or gazing out of a classroom window, provides relief. These small moments of reconnection with nature support learning, emotional balance, and resilience during key developmental stages. Some research further suggests  that girls may experience particularly strong emotional benefits from exposure to green environments, including greater feelings of calm and psychological safety, although these effects vary by context and should be interpreted cautiously. The Power of Small and Indirect Encounters A common misconception is that the benefits of nature require extended time in wilderness or access to large parks. But evidence  increasingly suggests that even brief or indirect encounters with nature can produce measurable psychological benefits, including improved mood and reduced stress, in highly built environments. “One of the key findings from our Urban Mind project  is that you don’t need a large park to ensure that people can benefit from nature: Even small pockets of green space can lead to measurable improvements in mental well-being that last over time,” notes Professor Andrea Mechelli, a professor of early intervention in mental health at King’s College London. For example, one study found that just a few minutes of exposure to greenery from a window, whether it’s watching the leaves rustle in the breeze or simply seeing trees sway, resulted in lower stress and higher attention among city children. Walking past trees on the way to school or spending short periods in a neighborhood park has been associated with these restorative effects. Even more impactful are those rare moments when urban youth can actually interact with nature in a more meaningful way. Whether it’s sitting on a park bench during lunch, playing in a schoolyard edged by bushes and flowers, or gathering with friends in a local garden, the act of engaging with nature, no matter how insignificant, provides much-needed emotional balance. Experimental research has shown that short exposure to natural scenes can result in modest improvements in emotional well-being among adolescents , including in controlled laboratory settings. Research on virtual nature environments further suggests that even simulated natural settings may offer partial restorative benefits, though real-world contact with nature remains irreplaceable. Social Development, Creativity and Play Natural play spaces have been linked to gains in creativity, cooperation, and social development among urban youth, particularly when environments allow for open-ended exploration rather than fixed, rule-bound play. Studies of children’s behavior in naturalized schoolyards and outdoor settings show that access to varied terrain, vegetation, and loose natural materials, such as fallen branches or piles of leaves, supports imaginative play, collaborative problem-solving, and peer negotiation . When children are allowed to freely explore nature, they are more likely to engage in spontaneous social interactions, practice cooperation, and develop creative solutions to challenges. Playing with natural objects like sand can stimulate creativity, delight, and a deep sense of well-being in children. Sofia Schultz Photography/Pixabay Compared with conventional playgrounds, green play environments are associated with more cooperative interactions and longer periods of sustained social engagement, outcomes researchers attribute  to the flexibility and shared discovery inherent in natural spaces. For inner-city youth, these settings provide rare opportunities to practice social skills in environments that encourage creativity and collaboration rather than competition. In a city where violence, gang pressures, and family breakdown are prevalent, these moments of creativity and social connection are invaluable. In these spaces, youth experience a sense of calm, social belonging, and emotional safety that is often absent from other parts of their daily lives. Whether it’s sitting in the shade of a tree or organizing an impromptu game of hide-and-seek with friends, nature offers a refuge where youth can express themselves and build meaningful social bonds. Evidence from India and the United Kingdom International research highlights the relevance of urban nature across diverse cultural and geographic contexts. A large multicity study  conducted across 25 of India’s most populated cities found that proximity to green and blue spaces such as parks, rivers, and lakes was associated with improved well-being and reduced mental distress among urban youth. Young people living within a few kilometers of such spaces reported better emotional health, particularly when visits were frequent, even when overall exposure time was limited. “People who live near green space are less likely to struggle with mental health issues,” says Mechelli, whose Urban Mind research examines how everyday environments shape emotional well-being . Qualitative research from the United Kingdom provides further insight into how urban youth experience nature. A study published in Health & Place  found that young people in diverse and often deprived urban neighborhoods described natural spaces as emotionally supportive and nonjudgmental, offering relief and a sense of belonging often absent in other social environments. These findings reflect lived experiences within specific urban contexts and illustrate how accessible nature can support emotional resilience and identity formation. Despite documented benefits, many inner-city youths face significant barriers  to engaging with nature. Safety concerns, pollution, vandalism, and poorly maintained green spaces can limit opportunities for outdoor exploration, while cultural perceptions may discourage engagement by framing natural spaces as dirty, dangerous, or not intended for certain communities. These conditions can contribute to ecophobia , a discomfort with or aversion to natural environments, that may develop when early experiences with nature are limited or negative. This pattern is linked to reduced familiarity and lack of positive early exposure, making the need for accessible, safe, and positive experiences with nature all the more critical. Designing Cities That Reconnect Youth with Nature Urban design  plays an important role in shaping access to nature, particularly in dense cities where land is limited. Green schoolyards, tree-lined streets, community gardens, and rooftop greenery can integrate nature into daily routines rather than treating it as a special destination. It’s never too soon in life for children to enjoy interfacing and interacting with nature. Milan Manoj/Unsplash Design approaches that prioritize safety, accessibility, and cultural relevance increase the likelihood that green spaces will be used and valued by local communities. Urban youth need these spaces to be welcoming and accessible, as well as safe and functional. Thoughtfully designed green spaces that are close to home, school, or other common gathering areas can significantly improve access to the restorative benefits of nature for all youth, regardless of socioeconomic background. Nature as an Urban Asset Evidence consistently shows that nature functions as a developmental asset for urban youth, supporting emotional regulation and psychological resilience through everyday contact rather than prolonged exposure or remote landscapes. Research from both India and the United Kingdom demonstrates that small, accessible encounters with green and blue spaces can still provide meaningful psychological support when they are integrated into daily life. For many urban youths, these moments of exposure to nature serve as lifelines, providing a sense of calm and safety amid the chaos of their environments. As cities continue to grow and densify, integrating nature into urban life becomes both a public health consideration and a matter of environmental equity. Thoughtfully designed green spaces not only offer mental and emotional benefits but also promote social connection, physical health, and a sense of pride and belonging for urban youth. Integrating natural spaces into cities is essential for the well-being of young people whose daily environments are shaped by planning decisions, poverty, and limited access to vital community resources. *Deborah Harvey   is a writer and researcher focused on science, technology, sustainability, and global innovation. Her work explores how emerging ideas shape the future of energy, infrastructure, and the environment.

How These Ecosystem Engineers Build Resilience in Their Changing World By Alina Bradford* An Everglades alligator. Rene Ferrer/Pexels As an apex predator that can harm human beings and domestic animals, the American alligator ( Alligator mississippiensis ) is feared in many parts of the nation. However, “the reasons to fear alligators are unfounded, as they are not aggressive beasts, although as large predators they should be respected,” said Frank Mazzotti, professor of wildlife ecology at the University of Florida’s Institute of Food and Agricultural Sciences  Fort Lauderdale Research and Education Center .  These giant reptiles are a vital part of the ecosystem in the states of Texas, Louisiana, Alabama, Mississippi, Georgia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Florida. In fact, alligators are viewed as “ ecosystem engineers ” or a species that, by nature, physically modifies its surrounding environment. For instance, in the Florida Everglades and other southern wetlands, alligators dig “ alligator holes ” and maintain them over time, reshaping water flow, habitat availability, nutrient availability, and even carbon storage. These ponderous animals even impact their environment just by walking around—the average male alligator weighs more than 500 pounds and can reach 1,000 pounds, according to the National Wildlife Federation .  As armored ecosystem engineers, the 4 million alligators  in the US today play a big role in how plants, animals, and microorganisms survive in the marshland. And research has now found that their actions may even do a bit to help protect the Earth from global warming.  But it’s the strength and ferocity of alligators, when provoked, that are best known. These traits are recalled in the larger-than-life, humorous boast by heavyweight boxing champion Muhammad Ali: “I have wrestled with an alligator, I done tussled with a whale; handcuffed lightning, thrown thunder in jail; only last week, I murdered a rock, injured a stone, hospitalized a brick; I’m so mean I make medicine sick.” Alligator Holes: Micro-refuges in Drought and Heat Alligator holes are made when alligators root out gunk from inside depressions in the limestone  bedrock, common in much of the US Southeast, using their nose and feet. These huge holes, up to 20 feet wide and several feet deep, hold water even when the dry season evaporates much of the wetland marshes. The water in the holes keeps the alligators cool and gives them a place to reproduce. But the holes aren’t important just to the gators. During drought, the holes becomes a literal survival node  for fish, turtles, snakes, insects, and birds that could otherwise die as water levels drop. Fish, amphibians, and aquatic invertebrates live in these pools, while mammals, turtles, and birds like herons, egrets, and ibises use them as watering holes and places to find a meal.  Luckily for the alligators, the gathering of animals into their holes provides them with a concentrated food source. The side effect is a  micro-refuge network  that prevents food webs from collapsing whenever conditions swing hard toward hot, dry conditions. Alligators don’t just dig holes. Once built, alligators keep their ponds from filling in with vegetation by using their snouts, claws, and tails to move sediment and nutrients around. With this maintenance, alligator holes can last for decades.  When an alligator digs and keeps a hole open, it stirs up sediment and redistributes organic material. That movement can make nutrients more available in some areas, changing where plants can successfully grow. The holes also filter water and slow fast-moving water. This naturally cleans the water and prevents erosion. An alligator feeding on a large softshell turtle. Andrea Westmoreland/Creative Commons/Wikipedia More Ecosystem-Engineer Evidence These holes aren’t the only way the alligators change the landscape in helpful ways. They create large mounds out of mud and organic materials for nesting . The nests can create elevated areas up to 3 feet tall  that are used as homes or nests for other animals, such as snakes, turtles, and ground-dwelling birds, when the floods return. Animals even use the “alligator hills” or “gator gardens” as perches to stand on when the water gets too high.  Even the act of these giant reptiles swimming and walking benefits the marshlands. When they walk, they stir up sediment, preventing the water from becoming stagnant and allowing it to be properly oxygenated. It also mixes up nutrients  and distributes them through the water for other species to benefit from. Microorganisms and water plants literally rely on alligators getting some exercise. In return, the plants absorb toxins in the water, making it safer for the animals to drink. Also important, by keeping marsh ecosystems vibrant and healthy, alligators even play a role in mitigating global warming. A 2025 study in Scientific Reports  found that alligator-driven habitat structure and food-web effects can create conditions that favor carbon accumulation and retention. Storing carbon in waterlogged soils instead of releasing it into the air as carbon dioxide, a gas that can trap heat in the atmosphere, can mean reduced global warming.  Why Apex Predators Matter  Alligators are top predators in many freshwater wetland systems, and apex predators tend to stabilize ecosystems  by shaping prey behavior and abundance. That can cascade into better vegetation patterns, lower erosion rates, and improved water quality. For instance, alligators eat raccoons, which then reduces the number of bird eggs being eaten and stabilizes the bird population. Gators also consume rodents, deer, and rabbits, which helps prevent vegetation from being overgrazed. The baldcypress stands, water lilies, and other aquatic plants that the gators save become homes for other marshland animals. An alligator with young of various ages. Catholic 85/Creative Commons/Wikipedia Not only are alligators important for their ecosystems, they are what has been termed a sentinel species . Marshland restoration, especially in the iconic Everglades in South Florida, depends on being able to monitor the health status of each of the huge number of plant and animal species there. So, scientists use an indicator or sentinel species to see how well all of the life forms are working together. In the 1960s and 1970s, alligators were hunted to the brink of extinction . With proper conservation, the US Fish and Wildlife Service found that by 1987, the alligator had recovered enough to no longer require endangered species status. Scientists realized that as the alligators flourished so did the Everglades. Now, long-term alligator monitoring helps track how the ecosystem responds to the Everglades restoration. If the alligator population is doing poorly, chances are that the Everglades are, too. The alligator’s impact on the environment is an important lesson for other conservation efforts. “Ban hunting and wait” isn’t the best way to address the problem. Coordinated regulation, habitat protection, enforceable management, and long-term monitoring help ensure recovery is not a temporary spike. The alligator’s comeback shows how conservation can work when policy and enforcement are allowed to do their job. Human–Alligator Coexistence As wetlands shrink, fragment, or shift under sea-level rise and development pressure, people and alligators end up sharing tighter space. Coexistence is not optional; it is logistics. Part of improving coexistence is better public education and realistic expectations: Alligators are doing what it is their nature to do in habitats. Wetland conservation should be supported so alligators live in functional habitats, not a drainage canal behind someone’s backyard fence.  Indigenous communities in South Florida are bolstering conservation and education efforts related to alligators. The Everglades are deeply tied to Miccosukee and Seminole identities and intergenerational cultural connections, including relationships with plants and animals. Indigenous knowledge  combined with modern monitoring should generate long-term stewardship. In sum, American alligators are constantly “editing” their wetland homes. They are scraping, piling, compressing, and rewetting areas in ways that change where nutrients sit, how oxygen moves through soils and which plants get the upper hand. They are builders, maintainers, and system shapers. Their holes function as drought refuges, their digging and nesting shift nutrients and plant dynamics, and recent research links their presence with higher soil carbon stocks in coastal wetlands. They also serve as practical indicators for Everglades restoration progress, and their recovery story shows what coordinated conservation can accomplish. The lesson to be learned here is that, to achieve climate-resilient wetlands, protecting the water and plants isn’t enough. Also to be protected are the toothy engineers that help to keep the whole thing stitched together. *Alina Bradford   is a safety and security expert who has contributed to CBS, MTV, USA Today, Reader’s Digest , and more. She is currently the editorial lead at SafeWise.com .

Mindful Agricultural Community   Harvests Bounty and Soul By Gordon Cairns * The Happy Farmers of Lower Hamlet celebrate their late summer abundance of aubergine at Plum Village Happy Farm. Image courtesy of Happy Farm, Plum Village “There is no way to harvest; harvest is the way.” Mick McEvoy, manager of the Upper Hamlet Happy Farm in Plum Village in France, is telling The Earth & I  about the connection between mindfulness and farming when he uses this enigmatic expression. It was coined by the Buddhist monk who helped establish Plum Village, Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh. Video  of Thich Nhat Hanh sharing his philosophy of happiness. The process of farming is like a harvest for the soul of the farmer and is just as important as the end goal of produce, McEvoy explains over a Zoom call. His analogy shows how practicing mindfulness and farming dovetail together.   The farm is more than just an organic farm—it’s a living laboratory where agroecology is shaped by mindfulness. Plum Village, situated in the fertile countryside of the Dordogne in southern France, is a unique expression of regenerative agriculture. The farm is more than just an organic farm—it’s a living laboratory where agroecology is shaped by mindfulness, and community building intertwines with ecological stewardship. By aligning mindful living with organic food production, Happy Farm invites volunteers and retreat participants to engage deeply with the land, their community, and their own inner relationship with Earth. “Entering the garden I see the true nature of reality. In its reflection, my heart is at peace.” Crossing the sacred threshold of Plum Village Happy Farm. Image courtesy of Happy Farm, Plum Village Rather than focusing on yields and productivity, Happy Farm positions farming as a pathway to individual and collective well-being, seeing cultivation itself as a form of insight and connection with the living world. In doing so, it asks a provocative question: Can the practices that nourish soil also be the ones that heal human relationships with nature and with one another? “Be aware of your inner garden, of your emotional reality.” McEvoy believes so. Over the course of an hour-long conversation, the softly spoken Irishman explains how practicing mindfulness while working and living on the farm makes Happy Farm transformative for the practitioners. “What makes it different from a farm is this deeply embedded mindfulness practice. We try to be really aware of what we are doing while we are doing it. Be aware of the abundance of nature in the living world around you; check in with the humans around you and be aware of what state your own body is in; be aware of your inner garden, of your emotional reality.”              The garden at Plum Village Happy Farm encourages meditation on the interconnectedness of all things in the universe. Image courtesy of Happy Farm, Plum Village  And the practice extends beyond the self to the physical landscape being cultivated: “Mindfulness is our connection with the living earth, the more-than-human life that is on that land with us; the seed, the soil, and then the human,” McEvoy explains. This humble approach attracts people from all over the world. In fact, McEvoy describes Happy Farm as the “United Nations of Mindfulness.” Harvesting beetroot in the early morning at Plum Village Happy Farm. Image courtesy of Happy Farm, Plum Village This spring, retreatants from six different nationalities will join the farm for a year. McEvoy says: “You can come as you are from whatever your tradition. For many who come to the farm, there is an intuitive knowing that they want to spend time outside on the farm, in the beautiful climate. This is healing in itself without any input from us.” Mindfulness is one aspect making Happy Farm different from a conventional organic farm. Giving ecology the same value as food production is another.                                                                        McEvoy explains: “We intentionally give a lot of space for rewilding, as this relationship with earth is very spiritual for us. After all, the host of life that was there before the farm will be there after our farm is gone. Food production can coexist and be supported by the ecological element, with an awareness of mindfulness.” The group of farms that make up Plum Village limit the amount of heavy machinery involved and have a “no-till policy.”  This means there is neither plowing nor using excavators to turn the soil over. Instead, the soil structure is permitted to heal while benefiting biodiversity. Compost is added to improve the integrity of the soil ecosystem and the number of vegetables grown is maintained, providing a yield that is “quite abundant,” McEvoy says. A variety of heritage tomatoes freshly harvested from Plum Village Happy Farm. Image courtesy of Happy Farm, Plum Village “We call this human-scale farming, not using a lot of machinery and no commercial activity in the food growing,” he explains. “There is no waste, and everything is consumed on the farm.”   “There is no waste, and everything is consumed on the farm.”   Beyond the harvest yield, the farm’s agroecology model has a positive ecological impact. The food is consumed hyper-locally—barely a kilometer from the field to the farm’s kitchen—and of course, there are no additives, pesticides, or herbicides. McEvoy draws a surprising parallel with another organization: “Like the Boy Scouts, we want to leave something in better shape than we found it. We want to enhance the habitats that are on our farms, so we have wild park meadows, pockets of woodland and wetland and add more habitats for all life forms. We connect ecology with an abundant and thriving agriculture.” A pumpkin and squash mandala created during the Harvest Retreat at Plum Village Happy Farm. Image courtesy of Happy Farm, Plum Village As part of the monastic heritage of the farm, the residents live closely, side-by-side, many sharing rooms with those they have just met. This style of living brings its own ecological benefits: Cars, vans and even washing machines are shared—five machines operate for 100 residents—while economies of scale reduce the kitchen costs. McEvoy admits communal living isn’t easy compared to an aspirational lifestyle, but choosing to live together is a form of healing in itself: “Communal life is as important, if not more important, than any individual pursuit of enlightenment. Harmony is more important than enlightenment.”  The closing ceremony of the Sacred Ecology Retreat around the fire at Plum Village Happy Farm. Image courtesy of Happy Farm, Plum Village He continues: “The idea of the intentional community is that in the era of individualism, community life is the balm or antidote. In this epidemic of loneliness where people die from the symptoms of loneliness, there is a solution. Remember, we belong to each other.” With visitors coming from all over the world, it is only natural that the farm’s positive practices have spread: “In the 13 years since I began doing this, a significant number of people have gone on to becoming farmers, making it part of their livelihood. The ripples are far and wide. The most important thing for us is to empower people to know they can practice mindfulness wherever they are in the world, in whatever they are doing.” McEvoy is happy for the Happy Farm blueprint to be adapted and altered: “I would say to people, ‘This is a group business model; take it, just take the idea and fit it to your own social or cultural context.’ People are so hungry to be on the land and to be in a community together. It’s not about Buddhism, it’s about coming back to the soil, growing, cooking, eating together.” Video  about the Happy Farm project of Plum Village. Furthermore, the practice doesn’t even need a farm: “We also say you can do this in your own back garden or with a window box—wherever people who have been on retreat can take it back to.” He adds: “When we grow a little bit of our own food, we switch from having food apathy to empathy for our food, but we also understand the mystery of what happens when we grow, the mystery of the soil, the alchemy of the seed becoming a plant, one grain of corn becoming a towering, beautiful plant full of ears of corn.” There is also a more day-to-day application of the Plum Village way: “It might make you more aware of where you want to spend your money when buying food or even getting involved yourself in a local community agriculture program.” “Plum Village," McEvoy says, "is just one small light in the world, where we need to have positive things happening all over the world.” *Gordon Cairns   is a freelance journalist and teacher of English at the Forest Schools, based in Scotland.

Cyclone Senyar Leaves Hidden Toll for Indonesian Families and Environment By Maila Rahiem* Children in an emergency school after Cyclone Senyar struck Sumatra. Image courtesy of Mahyudin Floodwaters are in the headlines. Mud is in the photographs. Death toll numbers force a nation to pay attention. But for children, the disaster continues long after the rain stops. Solutions include prioritizing school repairs and reopenings after a natural disaster, and adding school curricula and activities on how to strengthen Indonesia’s islands against future calamities. Cyclone Senyar Strikes In late November 2025, relentless downpours and landslides tore through parts of the Indonesian provinces of Aceh, North Sumatra, and West Sumatra. A few days lat er, researchers in Madain Yogyakarta d escribed how Tropical Cyclone Senyar, only the second documented cyclone to form in the Malacca Strait, helped trigger extreme rainfall—more than 300 millimeters (11.8 inches) in a single day in parts of North Sumatra. The deluge turned rivers into moving walls of water and hillsides into deadly avalanches.  As the weeks passed, official death toll numbers rosewith every new validation. By December 13, Indonesia’s disaster agency reported   1,006 deaths and around 654,000 people displaced across the three provinces.  Bridge washed out by Cyclone Senyar’s raging floodwaters. Wikimedia Yet, the most enduring losses are not always counted in the same breath as collapsed bridges and damaged homes. They show up in a 5-year-old child who panics at the sound of heavy rain, in a teenager who stops going to school because the road is gone, in a baby who goes unwashed for days  because there is no clean water, and in families who must decide which need is most urgent when every need is urgent.     When School Disappears When schools are closed or destroyed, children lose the important sense of predictability. Image courtesy of Fitria Astariani In disasters, children lose more than lessons. They lose predictability—one of the most important building blocks of healthy development. Many cannot explain fear and grief in neat sentences; distress emerges as sleeplessness, clinginess, irritability, and difficulty concentrating. In disasters, children lose more than lessons. They lose predictability—one of the most important building blocks of healthy development. There is als o a loss of security , which can be mitigated by a return to a routine. When daily structure reemerges, children can trust again that life can be organized and a stable future is still imaginable. The scale of educational disruption in Sumatra this season is staggering. Indonesia’s Ministry of Primary and Secondary Education reported  in mid-December that 3,274 education units were affected across Aceh, North Sumatra, and West Sumatra—impacting 276,249 students and 25,936 teachers and   educational personnel. At the same time, 403,534 students across 19,427 class groups experienced disrupted learning because facilities were damaged, access roads were cut, families were displaced, and some schools became temporary shelters.  UNICEF  has long emphasized that learning spaces can protect children from harm, connect them to basic services, and provide psychosocial support through stability and structure. This is why “education in emergencies” is not an optional add-on. When classrooms close, children face higher risks of neglect, exploitation, violence, early marriage pressures, and hazardous work—especially when families have lost income and safe housing. Sadly, this pattern is seen worldwide. UNICEF analysis found  43.1   million internal child displacements linked to weather-related disasters between 2016 and 2021, driven mostly by floods and storms. On December 5, a UNICEF leader decried the impact of typhoons across Southeast Asia. “Over the past months and in recent weeks, children across five countries in Southeast Asia—Indonesia, Viet Nam, Thailand, the Philippines, and Malaysia—have faced the devastating effects of typhoons, floods and storms,” Ricardo Pires, UNICEF deputy spokesman, said in a statement. “They are waking up in evacuation shelters. They're drinking unsafe water. They're watching their parents struggle to rebuild homes and livelihoods that have been destroyed not once, but repeatedly. And they're missing school not for days, but for weeks.” Pires then cited UNICEF’s latest data, which showed that since late November, “more than 4.1 million children in the region have had their education disrupted due to devastating climate-related disasters.” Child survivors in temporary shelter after Cyclone Senyar. Image courtesy of Mahyudin Why Sumatra Keeps Getting Hit Extreme rain can overwhelm even healthy ecosystems. But the difference between a difficult storm and a deadly cascade often lies upstream. According to Dr. Hatma Suryatmojo, a hydrological and watershed conservation researcher at Universitas Gadjah Mada (UGM), two factors were in play with Cyclone Senyar: extreme weather and “weakened natural defenses in the upper watershed.”  He explained  that upper-watershed forests should act like a sponge, intercepting rainfall and allowing water to infiltrate soil rather than racing straight into rivers. For instance, canopy interception in intact tropical forests can handle 15% to 35% of rainfall. Then, undisturbed soils can allow up to 55% of rainfall to infiltrate, and 25% to 40% of rain can return to the atmosphere through evapotranspiration. Upper-watershed forests should act like a sponge, intercepting rainfall and allowing water to infiltrate soil rather than racing straight into rivers. But when that “ safety belt ” is damaged or removed, rain becomes runoff, runoff becomes erosion, erosion becomes sediment-choked rivers, and rivers become flash floods.  Sumatra’s vulnerability is not only about geography and monsoon patterns. It is also about land governance, deforestation, and the cumulative weakening of natural defenses. In Aceh, the same UGM report noted  that about 59% of the province remained natural forest in 2020; yet, combined data indicated more than 700,000 hectares ( 1.73 million acres) of forest loss between 1990 and 2020. Conversion to plantations, illegal logging, road expansion, and settlement in flood- and mudslide-prone zones all raise the stakes when the sky opens. Peat forest cleared for future palm oil plantation in Indonesia. Wikimedia Clearance of peatlands is another factor. These massive wetlands can store impressive amounts of water, but drained or degraded peat can intensify both flood and fire risks. Restoration strategies in Indonesia have emphasized rewetting, revegetation, and livelihood revitalization ( the “3Rs” ). In other words, in order to have fewer child disasters, it is necessary to do more environmental repair. Climate change is the force multiplier. The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change has assessed with high confidence  that heavier precipitation will become more frequent and intense as warming increases, raising the risk of rain-driven flooding. For Sumatra, that means today’s “rare” extremes could become tomorrow’s recurring emergencies. Reducing the Harm Natural disasters sit at the intersection of climate, land use, infrastructure, poverty, and public services. The good news is that solutions also sit at that intersection. Start upstream by restoring ecosystems that slow water down. Sumatra needs disaster-risk-based spatial planning  that treats upper watersheds as protection infrastructure, advises Dr. Suryatmojo at UGM. That means halting deforestation in high-risk catchments, enforcing land-use rules, restoring degraded slopes, and protecting remaining critical ecosystems, such as Leuser in Aceh and Batang Toru in North Sumatra. It also means investing  in peatland rewetting and rehabilitation because healthy peat helps regulate water.  Sumatra needs disaster-risk-based spatial planning that treats upper watersheds as protection infrastructure. Treat schools as life-saving services, not “later-stage recovery.” Governments have already taken steps  that matter: emergency classroom tents, school kits, and learning materials have been distributed, alongside efforts to restore sanitation facilities and damaged classrooms. But continuity must be designed, not improvised. Every disaster-prone district should have a ready-to-activate plan for temporary learning spaces, safe routes to school, rapid repairs for water and toilets, and clear referral pathways when children show signs of severe distress. Support teachers so they can support children. In disaster zones, teachers are often the first to recreate “school” in its simplest form—small groups in shelters, lessons on a village terrace, reading circles in a prayer hall.  But teachers also grieve, relocate, and struggle. When they are overloaded with responsibilities without tools and care, the recovery system children rely on is weakened.  Children as Environmental Guardians One powerful shift is possible: Children can be reimagined not as helpless victims but as young partners in building environmental resilience. In practical terms, this can look like: School-based eco-resilience projects : Student teams can map drainage points, monitor rainfall, document river changes, and report blocked culverts—simple citizen science that strengthens early warning at the neighborhood level. Nature-based learning : They can assist with mangrove planting where coasts need buffers, re-green schoolyards to reduce runoff, and engage in watershed stewardship activities that connect science to everyday survival. Preparedness as a routine : Schools can hold child-friendly evacuation drills, “safe school” checklists, and family communication plans to help children prepare for storms. Environmental values as identity : Young people can be taught how to view protection of forests, rivers, and peatlands as part of their pride in their culture. Good stewardship is sustained when it becomes “who we are,” not only “what we do.” When children learn that a forest is not just trees but a living sponge that prevents floods, environmental care stops being abstract. It becomes personal. And when they experience school as a place that keeps functioning even in crisis, education becomes not only a right, but a shield. The Question Sumatra Must Answer Cyclone Senyar may have been the spark, but the landscape was the tinder. The storms of the future will test Sumatra again, especially as more rainfall extremes are being predicted . The real measure of recovery is not only how fast roads reopen or how many buildings are rebuilt. It is whether children regain safe routines, whether schools return as anchors of stability, and whether citizens finally repair the ecosystems that decide whether rain becomes water for life or water that takes life. *Maila Rahiem  is an academic and humanitarian worker who lives in Jakarta, where she studies how children’s well-being, education, and community resilience can be strengthened in a changing climate.

How Hiking in East Asia Cultivates Reverence, Discipline, and Shared Purpose By Jana Perez-Angelo* The royal azalea colony at the peak of Mount Jeamsan in southwestern South Korea is a famous spot visited by numerous hikers every spring when purple azalea flowers bloom. Snow Tiger Man/iStock At 7 a.m., as the sun rises over Seoul, the nearby granite slopes of Bukhansan are already alive. Elderly hikers in neon visors tap their trekking poles like drumbeats, exhaling clouds of mist into the crisp, pine-scented air. Office workers, sleeves rolled over stiff shirts, clutch cups of coffee while negotiating uneven stones. Someone unwraps kimbap at a wooden rest stop, the seaweed crackling softly. Another fidgets with a headlamp they won’t need until night, yet carries anyway, as though the ritual of preparation is part of the ascent itself. Below, Seoul stretches away in glass and steel, shimmering under the morning sun. Up here, the city feels distant. The hum of traffic is replaced by wind sighing through pine needles, the bark of a dog echoing from a far-off neighborhood, and whispered greetings of “Annyeonghaseyo” (“Hello! Are you doing well?”) linking strangers in quiet fellowship. Boots scrape stone, sometimes startling a bird or sending a flock of sparrows into sudden flight. Mist curls around jagged ridges, catching sunlight in golden streaks, making every rock, every tree, seem sentient. From the summit, the city reveals its hidden logic. Seoul doesn’t sprawl, it stacks. Apartment towers cluster in the Han River basin, hemmed in by ridgelines rising like folded paper. Highways twist sharply around rock outcroppings. Neighborhoods stop abruptly where the slope begins, as if the mountains claim authority over the city’s growth. The land commands attention, and the urban fabric bends in quiet obedience. Humans live here not over nature, but alongside it. This is no accident. Almost 70% of South Korea is mountainous. Japan’s summits, which include sacred Mounts Fuji, Tate, and Haku, account for about 73% of its land. The Philippines, strung along the volcanic Pacific Ring of Fire, is also more than 70% mountainous. In China, around 33% of land is mountainous, but seven of its peaks, primarily located in the Himalayas in Tibet, are higher than 8,000 meters (26,246 feet) above sea level. Buildable land is precious in South Korea, Japan, and the Philippines. Cities crowd in the narrow plains and river valleys. Highways wind between ridges. Apartment blocks spring up wherever the terrain allows. Mountains are neighbors, pressing against apartment windows, edging highways, and framing subway stops. Hiking here is never just recreation, it is ritual, release, discipline, and identity. Each trail tells a story. Each summit offers a lesson. Every step is a chance to observe, reflect, and connect. In many East Asia countries, hiking is an essential pastime, and trails are moral landscapes. While hiking remains a robust form of exercise, it also cultivates reverence, discipline, and shared purpose. Trails teach patience when hiking traffic slows to a crawl on a narrow ridge, humility when wind bites through layers, and communal ethics that ask not just “Did you reach the summit?” but “How did you walk? Who did you help along the way?” The Philippines: Akyat Bundok and Communal Reverence In the Philippines, hiking, or akyat bundok, is as much about people as peaks. Trails wind through forests thick with orchids and moss, past streams tumbling over limestone, beneath jagged peaks etched into clouds. Boots sink into dark soil, roots tangle underfoot, insects hum lazily as hikers pass. The climb isn’t a race, it is a shared journey, marked by laughter, whispered advice, and passing water or snacks to a struggling companion. Trekkers congregate on the summit of a mountain in Cagayan Valley, the Philippines. Nashrodin Aratuc/Pexels Local guides don’t just lead, they tell stories. They point out ancient rice terraces, recount spirits inhabiting sacred groves, and teach the delicate balance between humans and land. The mountain is both a teacher and mirror, reflecting patience, endurance, and respect for others. And age, injury, and circumstances are no barriers to mountain walking. In a video made several years ago for Nomad Terra Crawlers, Philippine hiker Pia Solon recalls that, despite knee pain, “This climb reminded me that every step matters. With each breath and each footfall, I felt life again, felt capable, felt connected.” Even those with prosthetic limbs keep climbing. In the same video, Alex Agustin, who has a artificial leg, shares: “I don’t want to stop hiking because I want to inspire more people.” Edwin Gatia, another senior climber, reflected on the differences between generations. “Basically, the main difference is that during our time there was a lot more of the element of adventure … the quest for the unknown and excitement that went with it. Today, people climb because it’s fun and more recreational than adventure. But as long as I can, I’ll keep climbing … and as they say, old climbers never die, they just drink away,” he said on the video. The experience becomes more than encouragement, it is a philosophy of persistence, community, and living fully. Whether climbing mountains, recovering from injury, or simply breathing in the forest air, the mountain trekkers of the Philippines carry it forward with every step. South Korea: Sacred Peaks, National Identity, and Discipline In South Korea, hiking is woven into life’s fabric. Trails explode with color on weekends—neon jackets, pastel visors, scarves fluttering in the wind. Mountains are sacred, home to san-shin, guardian spirits, and aligned with invisible spiritual currents called pungsu-jiri, believed to shape fortune. Many hikers chase the summit, but a growing movement values slowing down, observing, reflecting, and honoring the path itself. In a video, Kang Dong-Ik of the Korea National Park Service explains: “People go hiking to escape the bustle of the city, but when they get to the peak, there are so many people that instead of relieving stress, they find new stress. The solution is ‘slow peaking’—hike slower, feel the nature, see the valley instead of rushing to the top.” An anonymous South Korean hiker in the video adds a personal perspective: “You have to come up [the mountain] to be healed,” she said. “It feels so good.” Even along crowded trails, philosophy manifests in quiet gestures: a bowed head at a shrine, a hand offered to help a climber over a rock, shared laughter at a steep slope. Pauses matter as much as steps. Hiking near urban life, the air feels different, thicker with expectation, yet lighter with possibility. A Japanese woman luxuriates in the peace and beauty of a mountain forest. West/iStock Japan: Shinrin-Yoku and the Mindful Mountain In Japan, hiking is inseparable from mindfulness and attentiveness to seasonal change. Shinrin-yoku, or “forest bathing,” encourages participants to immerse themselves fully in forest environments, reducing stress and promoting overall health. Dr. Qing Li, president of the Japanese Society of Forest Medicine, explains in his book Forest Bathing: How Trees Can Help You Find Health and Happiness: “The best way to deal with stress at work is to go for a forest bath. I go for shinrin-yoku every lunchtime. You don’t need a forest; any small green space will do. Leave your cup of coffee and your phone behind and just walk slowly. You don’t need to exercise, you just need to open your senses to nature. It will improve your mood, reduce tension and anxiety, and help you focus and concentrate for the rest of the day.” Japanese trails are carefully maintained, and hiking often coincides with seasonal rituals, from cherry blossoms in spring to fiery autumn leaves. Walking becomes meditation, a practice of aligning oneself with the rhythms of nature and society. Every step is intentional, every breath attuned to the scent of pine, cedar, and damp earth. Forest medicine complements this mindful practice. Dr. Li, a pioneer of shinrin-yoku, notes that even brief immersion, two hours in a forest or city park, can lower stress hormones, reduce blood pressure, boost immunity, and improve sleep. He emphasizes that “shinrin-yoku lifts depression. It can improve concentration and increase your memory. You can visit city parks to enjoy shinrin-yoku. Even a short visit brings many benefits. It’s about connecting with the forest, feeling life in the trees and the air around you.” In Japan, the forest is felt as more than scenery; it is a teacher, a healer, and a space for reflection. Hiking here is not just exercise; it is a mindful engagement with life itself. China: Taoist and Confucian Influences China’s mountains, while covering a far smaller percentage of the nation’s area than in South Korea, Japan, or the Philippines, are considered to be teachers, temples, and mirrors of the self. Trails meander through mist-heavy forests where pine, cedar, and bamboo scent the air, the soil squishing underfoot after rain. Streams leap over rocks, frogs croak in hidden pools, and birds dart through branches, startling hikers into silence. Roots twist like serpents across paths, and the wind carries faint echoes of distant temple bells. For centuries, Taoist and Confucian traditions have treated mountains as arenas for moral and spiritual cultivation, spaces to refine virtue, harmonize with nature, and strengthen discipline. Retreats, fasting, and meditation are exercises in aligning the body, mind, and spirit. The climb itself is the teacher, testing patience, humility, and awareness at every switchback. A Taoist practitioner recounts a 2025 summer retreat: “By walking slowly through the forest, chewing young pine needles, and absorbing the qi [vital energy] of the mountains, the body feels lighter and the mind clearer. … It’s not about escape but about reconnecting with the world and oneself.” During a three-day fasting and cultivation retreat, the same practitioner adds: “The rain soaked our clothes but seemed to wash something deeper. Our hearts felt lighter and clearer. All that remained was us together with this mountain, this rain, this wind, and this mist.” A hiker looks over the city of Hong Kong, People's Republic of China. Baona/iStock Sacred peaks in China like Wudang, Tai, and the Five Great Mountains see the blending of human artistry into natural beauty. Terraced paths wind past temples, pagodas, and incense-filled shrines where bells chime faintly in morning mist. Martial arts students practice forms along slopes, their movements harmonizing with the rhythm of the forest. China Global Television Network (CGTN) host Jiao Yang observes: “The underpinning idea is that all living things exist in harmony. Taoism is about cultivating oneself to rise above bodily needs and base desires, and finding harmony with the world, ultimately achieving spiritual immortality.” Modern hiking balances urban access with sacred preservation. Visitors tread carefully, reminded that the climb is a communion, not a conquest. Every creaking bamboo stalk, slick stone, and swirl of mist gently prompts notice, reflection, careful walking. Trails as Teachers Mountains in East Asia are never just obstacles or scenery; they are teachers. Every stone underfoot, every gust of wind, every shared laugh or helping hand on the trail offers a lesson in patience, courage, and empathy. Trails stretch the body, awaken the heart, and root people in something larger than themselves. They teach how to move through life: to tread thoughtfully, lift others as the trekker climbs, and notice the world with care. When hikers return to the city below, they carry with them the rhythm of the mountains, the slow inhale of forests, the disciplined climb of rocky paths, the reverent hush of sacred peaks, an internal map that guides how they walk through the rest of their lives. Mountains may remain unmoved, indifferent to ambition, yet anyone who listens leaves changed. Every summit is not a destination but a living classroom, reflecting the best of who a person can be when they let the world teach them in its patient, towering way. *Jana Perez-Angelo is a Denver-based writer and multidisciplinary creative and digital strategist passionate about brand storytelling and purpose-driven content. Her work has been featured in Relevant Magazine, Medium, and Faithful Life.