Some people dedicate their lives to protecting the planet. The rest of us? We’re busy ignoring it. Out of sight, out of mind – until disaster barges in, uninvited.

And when it does – we are shocked, surprised. ‘How could this happen? Why didn’t anyone do anything?’ we ask. Deep down, we know the warning signs were there. They always are – bright red and impossible to miss. But we looked away anyway.

Not everyone looks the other way, of course. Some people run courageously toward disasters, fighting to save what they can. Unsung heroes. We applaud them, grateful for their courage. I can’t help thinking that those on the front line might appreciate our support much sooner. It’s probably lonely work being a climate scientist. Perhaps it would spur them on if they knew we thought their work was more important than a city banker’s – which it is!

Our relationship with urgency is a strange one – we’d rather tidy our already tidy desk than make a tough decision. We can kick into the long grass almost as far as politicians do. We’ll go far to avoid staring threats in the face. Mobile phones have helped us avoid nature’s gaze. How? We reach for our smartphone and hit record like we’re observers and not part of the problem. Observing instead of acting. But – when it comes to matters of the planet – we are part of the problem. Which is fine, because that means we can also be part of the solution.

It’s a paradox: we book trips to see melting icebergs and stranded polar bears, because we care. But do our actions align with that care? Are we part of the solution – or the problem?

For things to change, we have to change.

It’s easier to trust that someone else will step in and fix things. Easier to believe we have more time than we do.

But disasters won’t wait for us to agree.

So what do we know? The climate is changing too fast for nature to keep up. Species can’t evolve quickly enough. What chance do we have in a world where evolution is running in reverse?

Ironically, it often takes disaster to wake us up. Disaster wakes us up – briefly – before we hit snooze.

When disaster strikes, we rally. Generally, people are good. Communities come together. Governments make promises. We vow to do better. However, as the headlines fade, urgency withers on the vine. We entrench for a while, ponder, and we wait for the next disaster to remind us what’s at stake. Yes, it was a close call – but we showed it. I mean… we showed the videos of stranded polar bears and icebergs collapsing into the sea – like we’re spectators, not participants.

Caring after the fact isn’t enough, but it’s better than not caring at all.

If we wait for the floods, the fires, or the storms, we’ll always be playing catch-up. And the cost – human, environmental, economic – will keep climbing. We’ll adjust to the ‘new normal’ – again and again – until uncertainty becomes the new baseline. At this rate, we’ll evolve into nervous wrecks waiting to become nervous wrecks. There’s irony for you.

So, why do we wait? And more importantly, how do we stop procrastinating?

Maybe the answer lies in rethinking what drives us. Instead of letting fear spark action, what if we let hope lead the way? Hope for a future where we act not out of panic, but out of love and responsibility.

Waiting is a choice. Acting is, too. So what will you do – before it’s too late?

Simon