As I sit in my backyard in Abuja, Nigeria, looking out at the open landscape around me, I can’t help but feel a deep sense of loss. Once alive with rich carpets of wild ferns, daisies, lupins and goldenrod, the hills are now littered with invasive species that have suffocated the native flora. The once crystal clear river, reflecting the blue sky and dotted with gracefully gliding fish and dragonflies, is now silted up by sediment and pollutants from nearby construction and agriculture.
This feeling of loss and displacement, the combination of nostalgia for what once was and the deep sadness of what has inevitably changed, has a name: solastalgia. Coined by philosopher Glenn Albrecht, it describes the emotional distress caused by solastalgia. environmental changeespecially when it affects the place we call home. It’s basically the feeling of being homesick while at home.
But despite that feeling, there is hope. Solastalgia inspired me. It serves as a strong motivator to encourage the protection and rejuvenation of our environments. It reminds us of the intrinsic value of nature and the importance of care. When we acknowledge our pain and channel it into positive action, we empowering ourselves to fight for the landscapes we love and preserve biodiversity, turning our grief into tangible steps for change. Our bonds with nature are strong and worth nurturing for future generations.
About supporting science journalism
If you like this article, please consider supporting our award-winning journalism subscribing. By purchasing a subscription, you’re helping to ensure a future of impactful stories about the discoveries and ideas that shape our world.
Growing up, I spent countless hours in the woods behind my childhood home surrounded by majestic oaks with their sprawling canopies, towering pines reaching to the sky, and majestic willows swaying gently along the river bank. I often found myself in the embrace of the ancient pines, landing their earthy scent as I wandered beneath their branches. The woods were my sanctuary. Every tree had a story, a memory attached. I remember the laughter of friends echoing as we played hide and seek throughout the echo, the sun filtering through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor, and the quiet moments spent sitting against a tree trunk, feeling one with nature.
When I returned home after five years at university, I was struck by how much the ecosystem had changed. As climate change accelerates and development overtakes familiar spaces, I’m grappling with a disturbing reality. The vivid tapestry of my childhood is unraveling. In its place is a landscape marked by change, a change that feels invasive and alien.
Today, as I was walking through the lush woods of Stubbs Creeks in my backyard, I was thinking about that day a few years ago. The forest was alive with frolicking squirrels, the occasional fox sauntering through the underbrush. Robins and chimps and buzzing insects created a symphony that felt right at home. I realize now that many of those trees were torn down, replaced by barren housing devoid of life and character.
Lake Ibeno was located within this vibrant landscape. I took pride in its clear water, where families of ducks and geese often swam gracefully. The lake was a joy: a place for summer swimming, lazy afternoons spent floating on the raft, evenings filled with laughter from friends gathered around the fire. Here I learned the rhythm of nature. Now, I watch with dismay as the algae choke the water, turning it dark green.
The emotional turmoil is not mine alone; it resonates with many people who are seeing similar transformations in their environments. The deep meaning of solastalgia appears as an often-overlooked sorrow: not for a person but for a place. It’s a longing for a connection that feels increasingly out of reach, as the landscapes we once knew and loved inevitably change.
Whenever I see a well-known landmark disappear or a cherished habitat shrink, I can’t help but think about how the vibrant tapestry of biodiversity is turning into a homogenized landscape. This transformation results in a precarious reversal the balance of nature. Climate change is the main reason, but the pollution of the industrial complexes in the area has had a great effect on the deterioration of the natural environment. Deforestation driven by the constant pursuit of urban development continues to erode vast tracts of forest land, and unsustainable resource extraction has stripped the earth of its natural resources, leaving scars that are slow to heal.
I can’t stand still. Soon after returning home I began to educate myself about conservation efforts, inspired by the changes I saw in my environment. I have joined local conservation groups, participating in tree planting initiatives to restore native species and combat the invasion of non-native flora. I have also been involved in clean-up efforts at Lake Ibeno, rallying friends and family to help remove trash and debris from the shores to restore its natural beauty. Education is also essential; I strive to make my community aware of the importance of preserving our natural spaces.
In my conversations with family and friends, I find that solastalgia is a common experience. We often reminisce about the landscapes of our youth, remembering the places that have influenced our lives. There is a dark undertone to these discussions as we realize that our memories are increasingly tied to what we are losing rather than what remains. The world is changing, and so are we.
As I reflect on my journey with Solastalgia, I realize that it is not just a sense of loss but a call to reconnect. It inspires us to find new ways to engage with our surroundings, create memories in the face of change, and honor the beauty that still exists, despite the challenges. While the landscape may change, our appreciation can remain steadfast, reminding us that our connection to nature is enduring and worth nurturing for future generations.
In an era of looming environmental challenges, solastalgia serves as a stark reminder of the stakes involved. It is an invitation to take care of our homes, to defend their protection and to cultivate a deep sense of responsibility towards the world in which we live. As we face the reality of a changing climate, we can find solace not only in our memories, but also in our collective ability to create a prosperous future for people and planet, a harmonious balance that nourishes the living tapestry of life.
This is an opinion piece; The opinions expressed by the author are not mandatory American scientific
