28/03/2026
I always do something for Earth Hour.
Not because it fixes anything… but because not doing anything feels heavier.
This year we’ll be unplugging completely, no electricity, no noise.
Just candlelight… and honestly, a perfect excuse to use my ever-growing collection.
But underneath that, there’s something else...
A kind of grief I don’t think we talk about enough.
Not sharp, not loud, just a steady awareness of what we’ve done… and what we’re still doing.
Climate grief is strange like that.
It’s collective, but it feels personal.
Like carrying something that doesn’t fully belong to you… but still lives in you anyway.
It would be easy to shut it out, to scroll past it, to tell ourselves it’s too big to matter what we do.
But that’s the part that isn’t true.
It doesn’t have to be perfect to count.
It doesn’t have to be big to matter.
It’s the small things, the imperfect things, the things no one claps for.
They add up in ways we don’t always see.
So whatever you choose to do for this hour… whether it’s candles, quiet, reflection, or something completely your own… it still matters.
Your hour. Your power.
The fact you care at all… that’s not small either.
A billion small, imperfect actions will always carry more weight than one perfect one 🌏
