We’ve Already Reached the Tipping Point on Global Warming. I’ve Seen It.

When I left the Arctic after my last photographic expedition there in August 2011, I knew — I could feel it, I could see it — that the “tipping point” we’d all been talking about had been breached. I knew it was no longer about whether we could avoid it: humanity was already living within a new paradigm.

We were fewer than 500 miles from the North Pole. There was no snow. It was, most days, 60 degrees Fahrenheit. There was no ice, so polar bears roamed the land, so hungry that they just went from nest to nest eating the eggs of birds that had traveled thousands of miles to lay their eggs and raise their chicks. I watched as one bear, in a couple of hours, destroyed an entire generation of eggs. Glaucous gulls, kitty wakes, eider ducks, king eider ducks. It was a devastating scene.

When I got home, I was so distraught and overwhelmed that I had trouble getting out of bed. No one seemed to be able to comprehend what we were losing, what was at stake. I felt I had failed as a photographer. I had to face the fact that my images alone were not enough to convey the urgency of the situation. I said to my daughter, who was 11 at the time, “Just tell me you won’t have children, and we’ll just have a grand ol’ time with what’s left of our world.”

In her great wisdom, she said, “Mom! I am 11 years old. How can I possibly know if I’ll have children or not?” “Besides,” she said, “you have to try.” It was that last bit that got me up. It reminded me of what I already knew.

When I was a child, my grandfather would take me into the woods around our house. He’d introduce me to each tree. “This is your relative,” he would say, “in the same way that I am your relative. You must respect this tree.”

My grandfather had many lessons. He told me something that I later taught my daughter. He said, “You are billions of years in the making; you are born of this time for this time. You have survived slavery, genocide and disease. You carry the wisdom of your ancestors with you, yet there is no one like you.”

Today, as world leaders negotiate the fate of the planet at the Paris Climate Summit, I have my grandfather’s words in my ears. As a species, we stand at a precipice, and the choices we make in this moment — individually, as a collective — determine a great many things. It can be hard letting go of habits, especially the ones that are not good for us. It will be harder still to live on a dead planet.

But what can we do? I have accepted that my images were not enough on their own, that I was required to do more, to dig deeper. I asked myself: What kind of world do I want to live in? Is this it? If not, what am I willing to do to shape it into a world with greater equity not only among humans, but all living things? What kind of world do I want to leave to my daughter and her children? Is this it? What choices can I make to help shift humanity onto a healthier, more sustainable track?

We do not often stop long enough to really think about what we are doing, let alone where these choices are leading us. We blindly plow towards a future that we have authored. Then we wonder, “How did we get here?” It has been too easy to be apathetic, to say “It’s not my job.” Too easy to say, “I am only one person, what could I possibly do?” My grandfather said it: You are born for this time. Each one of us plays an important significant part in the shaping of our future, whether actively or passively. It’s time to grieve for what is already lost in order to make space for a vision of what is possible.

I got up out of bed. I made time to think about the world I want to live in. I began speaking publicly, writing books and even making films, putting forth a vision of a world not steeped in fear and scarcity mentality. The world I want is a world that does not subjugate, does not separate, does not monger fear and inadequacy in order to control. The world I dream of has clean air, clean water, does not poison its people. Instead it educates them, gives them room and space to dream. It respects the plants and animals that share our planet, does not see them as resources to be exploited but as sacred things to be exalted and protected.

I do continue to photograph the beauty and wonder of this planet, but with no expectation that my images alone can or will change anything. I have increased my vocabulary of communication. I have expanded my definition of what it means to be a citizen of Earth — this place that gives us everything and asks for so little. Each one of has a personal decision to make. What does it mean to be an Earthling? What duty or responsibility do we hold ourselves to in service of this planet?

To those of you actively building a world that is more peaceful and equitable, I say thank you. To those of you still standing by the sidelines, unsure, I say this: We need you. Life is not a spectator sport. We are all participants, and now more than ever we need every hand on deck to right this ship and chart a better course. Choose one thing you love about life on this planet, and make that your thing.

The TED Fellows program hand-picks young innovators from around the world to raise international awareness of their work and maximize their impact.