loving art, science and creative kids
9/26/2026 1:26:25 PM
Flickers Caring for Their Young
Human Rights Begin With a Livable Planet
I’ve always been told never to argue with a friend or relative about politics. Usually, I try to follow that advice. Recently, however, a friend and I had a heated discussion about something that surprised me. We weren’t really arguing about politics. We were arguing about priorities. She told me she couldn’t be as concerned about the environment when there are so many violations of human rights happening around the world. How, she asked, can we worry about forests and climate change when people are being imprisoned, tortured, displaced, and killed?
My friend got me thinking. She mentioned the recent shooting of a Venezuelan DoorDash delivery driver in Austin, Texas. On September 20, 2026, Wilber Rafael Garcés Pérez, 28, was shot during an encounter with immigration enforcement officers. He was wounded, hospitalized, and then transferred into federal custody. The circumstances surrounding the shooting remain under investigation.
Whatever the investigation ultimately determines, the image of a wounded man in handcuffs is disturbing. Human rights matter. But the more I thought about our argument, the more I realized that I don't believe we have to choose between human rights and the environment. They are the same conversation. Climate change can seem abstract when we talk about rising temperatures and atmospheric carbon dioxide. It becomes something very different when we see what it does to an individual human being.
In June 2024, 27-year-old Adam Willson died in his Tucson, Arizona, home during a period of extreme heat. Adam had a medical condition that made him particularly vulnerable to high temperatures, and his mother cared for him full-time. When their swamp cooler broke down, she couldn't afford to repair it. Nearly every day that June topped 100 degrees, with 14 days reaching at least 105. One morning, Debbie Willson went into her son's room to wake him for a doctor's appointment. He was dead. His death certificate listed "unknown natural causes," not heat. His mother believes the heat contributed to his death. An NPR investigation found that deaths like Adam's are frequently missed in official statistics because heat often isn't identified as a cause of death.
In western Alaska, the danger looked very different. In October 2025, Steven Anaver was inside his home in the Yup'ik village of Kwigillingok when floodwaters lifted the house from its foundation and carried it away with him still inside. Furniture floated around him. The walls shifted like the sides of a boat. The house drifted roughly a mile before coming to rest near the riverbank, where neighbors rescued him. Anaver later described himself as being inches from death. The storm displaced more than 2,000 people in western Alaska, and entire homes were swept away.
And this month, in the Navajo Nation in New Mexico, seven-year-old Lucy Allison Mike, her grandmother Elsie Begay, and family friend Dora Franklin were killed in a flash flood. They had been returning from shopping for Lucy's upcoming eighth birthday when their vehicle became stuck in mud and rapidly rising water swept them away.
Three stories. Three very different parts of the country. Three reminders that extreme weather isn't an abstract concept when you are the person caught in it. When one person is shot, we see the person.We see the blood. We see the handcuffs. We see the family grieving.
Climate-related suffering is different. A family loses its home in a flood. A community is evacuated. A person dies during a heat wave. Each tragedy can disappear into a statistic. But the people are real. One person, we understand. Millions of people become a concept. That may be why environmental suffering doesn't always generate the same emotional response as an individual act of violence.
The United Nations recognized the connection between the environment and human rights when it recognized access to safe and clean drinking water and sanitation as a human right in 2010. In 2022, the General Assembly recognized the right to a clean, healthy and sustainable environment.
These aren't simply environmental issues. They are human issues.
We don't have to choose—and we shouldn’t. This is where I think my friend and I were actually closer in our beliefs than we realized. She was looking at the individual. I was looking at the system. But both matter. I don't believe caring about the environment means caring less about people. I believe it means recognizing that we cannot separate human beings from the world that sustains us. This is one reason I wrote the Rightfully Mine series. I believe everyone deserves the basic conditions necessary to live a healthy and secure life. Protecting those conditions means protecting the world around us.
If we care about our neighbors, shouldn't we care about the conditions in which they live? If we care about children, shouldn't we care about the world we are leaving them? And if we care about human rights, shouldn't we care about the conditions that allow human beings to exercise those rights in the first place? Human rights begin with a livable planet.
I look forward to your comments below.
Art is always for sale through my website. If interested in Flickers Caring for their Young, click https://www.eichingerfineart.com/workszoom/2694223/flickers-caring-for-young#/
References:
Press release. (2025) “Thirst as a weapon”: Unexperts condemn Israel’s deliberate dehydration and starvation of the Palestinian People. United Nations Human Rights Commission, Retrieved from https://www.ohchr.org/en/press-releases/2025/07/thirst-weapon-un-experts-condemn-israels-deliberate-dehydration-and
Moore, S. ( 2026 website) Water as a Weapon, The Water Center, University of Pennsylvania . Retrieved from https://watercenter.sas.upenn.edu/
Website. (2025) Public Health Situation Analysis-occupied Palestinian territory. World Health Organization. Retrieved from https://www.who.int/publications/m/item/public-health-situation-analysis---occupied-palestinian-territory-September
The Human right to a clean, healthy and sustainable environment: resolution/ adopted by the General assembly 2022. United Nations Digital Library. Retrieved from https://digitallibrary.un.org/record/3983329?ln=en.html&utm_source=chatgpt.com&v=pdf
Website. ( 2025) UNHCR report reveals extreme weather driving repeated displacement among conflict-affected communities. UNHCR The UN Refugee Agency. Retrieved from https://www.unhcr.org/us/news/press-releases/unhcr-report-reveals-extreme-weather-driving-repeated-displacement-among?utm_source=chatgpt.com
9/11/2026 7:38:08 PM
SURF'S UP
Between the Waves
Life is a restless sea.
We rise with the waves,
lifted toward the sky,
believing, for a moment,
we might stay there.
Then the wave breaks.
We tumble into darkness,
caught in the undertow,
reaching for something solid
beneath our feet.
Love lifts us.
Loss pulls us under.
Hope carries us toward the crest.
Fear waits in the trough.
We rise.
We fall.
The sea gives nothing
that it does not take away.
Nothing stays.
Nothing holds.
Yet again we rise,
and still we reach
for the next wave.
Perhaps that is what it means
to be human—
not to find still water,
but to live between the waves,
to be carried upward,
pulled below,
to again find our way
back to the surface.
Uncertainty Between the Waves
These thoughts held me captive this week. A man I hired off an ad to fix a badly damaged car for a woman without resources did a magnificent job. He was proud of his work, as were we. The cost was half of what it would have been in an automotive repair shop. The man was between jobs, looking for a more stable situation. I gladly paid the last $1,500 in cash when he returned the car to its owner. As he left, he placed the envelope on his dash and set off to buy parts for another vehicle. The afternoon was warm, and while on the highway he opened the window for fresh air. Within seconds, the envelope flew out the window. And though he stopped and searched as best he could on the fast-moving, busy road, it was nowhere in sight. His moment of high turned into fear and self-loathing. He wondered if life was worth continuing.
His experience reminded me that instability isn't a flaw in life. It is the nature of life itself-a theme discussed by philosophers through the ages. We are never standing in the same place because, like the sea, everything around us is always changing. Our struggle isn't that life is unstable, but that we expect it to be stable. When it isn't, we blame all sorts of things, focus on the downside, and fall into depression.
The Greek Philosopher Heraclitus is famous for the idea that everything is in flux. The world isn't fixed; it is continually changing. His philosophy is often associated with the saying, "No one steps in the same river twice." The river-and the person stepping into it-are different from one moment to the next. We are nearly standing in the same, but like the sea, we are always changing.
Impermanence is central to Buddhist philosophy. Instead of promising certainty, it teaches us how to live with uncertainty skillfully. By recognizing impermanence, letting go of attachment to fixed outcomes, and embracing life's ever-changing flow, one can cultivate peace in an unpredictable world. Rather than seeing uncertainty as a problem to solve, Buddhism reframes it as a profound truth to be realized. The wise do not fear uncertainty; they walk the Middle Way, finding liberation in the freedom of not knowing.
Stoicism goes further, saying that instability is unavoidable, but our response to it is not. The Stoics, particularly Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius, emphasized the distinction between what we can control and what we cannot. The world will throw us onto the peaks and into the troughs. We cannot control the waves, but we can work on how we meet them. While Heraclitus tells us the world continuously changes; the Stoics ask how we should live in a changing world.
Nietzsche took the idea in a more challenging direction. He rejected the belief that life should be comfortable, orderly, or free from struggle. He saw suffering, change, conflict, and uncertainty as part of becoming who we are. His idea of amor fati-"love of fate"-suggests embracing what happens rather than merely wishing circumstances were different. This leads to a powerful question. What if we stopped asking life to become stable and learned to love the waves? What if they make us wiser?
Existentialist philosophers such as Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus recognize that no foundation is guaranteed beneath us. Each of us must make make choices and create meaning despite uncertainty. Camus especially emphasizes the absurdity and uncertainty of our existence. As I wrote last week, our lives on Earth are a mystery. We don't get guarantees, yet we have to live anyway. There are ways to manage the stress that comes with uncertainty.
Contemporary thinkers John Kay and Mervyn King wrote Radical Uncertainty. They distinguish risk, which can sometimes be calculated, from radical uncertainty, where we simply don't know what the future will bring. The world is so complex that scientists and economists can only give us insights. They can not tell us what to do. The final decision is ours. We aren't merely riding waves whose height we can predict. Sometimes we don't even know what wave is coming.
It feels to me like the world and our country in particular are riding waves that rise and ebb with increasing frequency. It has become harder to measure the risks and even harder to know how to manage them. Yet, there are ways you can take to reduce stress, ways to reframe that help mediate anxiety and depression. Get in touch with your feelings, then widen your view through meditation and activities that connect you to humanity.
References:
Kay, J. King & M. ( 2020) Radical Uncertainty: Decision-Making Beyond the Number. WW. Norton& Company LTD. London. ISBN 978-1-324-00477-6
Website (2026)The Buddhist Concept of Uncertainty: An In-Depth Exploration. Deep Dharma; Retrieved from https://www.deepdharma.org/the-buddhist-concept-of-uncertainty-an-in-depth-exploration/
Website ( 2026) Embrace the uncertainty. Daily Stoic. Retrieved from https://dailystoic.com/embrace-the-uncertainty/
Website (2024) Existential uncertainty: how it affects your mind - and what you can do about it. https://theconversation.com/existential-uncertainty-how-it-affects-your-mind-and-what-you-can-do-about-it-241197
Pollak,S. The Only Thing Certain is Uncertainty. Psychology Today. Retrieved from https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-art-now/202111/the-only-thing-certain-is-uncertainty
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Art is always for sale. The Blame Game is available for purchase at https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-art-now/202111/the-only-thing-certain-is-uncertainty
Questions? Contact me at [email protected]
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Though change is a constant, we navigate through it, working towards and outcome that is tolerable. My books demonstrate different way, people navigate through life to overcome adversity. BOOKS BY MARILYNNE EICHINGER CAN BE PURCHASED THROUGH AMAZON. PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.
8/21/2026 9:32:41 PM
Trees Most Majestic — Let’s Save Them
Who Owns What We All Need?
When I received the Silver Global Award, I was surprised to learn that my book had been entered in the political book category. I have always thought of my novels as eco-thrillers. Yet, after thinking more about them, I realized the judges had seen something I had not fully considered: environmental issues are inherently political because they are ultimately about power. Who owns the land? Who controls the water? Who has access to energy and other resources? Who profits from them? And who pays when those resources are depleted, or the environment is damaged?
Activist organizations like my fictional Antheia are, in many ways, political action groups. They try to influence public opinion, but ultimately their goal is to encourage people to elect politicians who will take a stand for clean air, clean water, healthy forests, and equitable access to natural resources.
Environmental politics is a recognized field of study, with international journals, university courses, and research devoted to the relationship among natural resources, government, economics, and society. At its heart is a deceptively simple question: Who has the power to control the resources we all depend upon?
The struggle over resources is hardly new. Land, water, minerals, timber, and energy have always been sources of wealth and conflict. Today, however, climate change, population growth, and increasing demand for energy and raw materials are creating new pressures.
Drought and desertification reduce arable land and available freshwater, intensifying competition among farmers, herders, communities, and nations. Demand for minerals such as lithium and cobalt has created new geopolitical competition over mining and supply chains. Some critics have even described the exploitation of resources in vulnerable countries by wealthier nations and corporations as a new form of colonialism.
Both The Water Factor and Antheia in the Thorns explore this imbalance of ownership and access. My next novel, Kingdom of Greed, will examine it even more directly.
Water may be the clearest example. We turn on a faucet and expect water to be there, but behind that faucet are rivers, reservoirs, aquifers, treatment plants, pipelines, electricity, governments, laws, and agreements among competing users. When those systems fail—or when governments cannot agree about who has the right to use a limited supply—water becomes a political issue.
The Colorado River demonstrates this problem well. Seven states and Mexico depend on the river, yet its water supply has come under increasing pressure from prolonged drought, climate change, and decades of use. Deciding who gets how much water is not simply an environmental question. It is a political one.
Natural resources and the infrastructure that delivers them can also become instruments of conflict. In Ukraine, attacks on energy infrastructure have disrupted electricity, heating, and water systems, demonstrating how essential resources can become targets during war. The conflict has also highlighted the strategic importance of oil, energy facilities, and other resources that help sustain a nation's economy and military.
Water can be weaponized as well. During the war in Gaza, restrictions and damage to water infrastructure have left civilians with severe shortages of potable water. Human Rights Watch has documented restrictions on water supplies and on materials needed to repair and operate water systems.
Oil provides another example of how control of a natural resource can have consequences far beyond the place where it is produced. The Strait of Hormuz is a critical passage for global energy supplies. Any serious disruption to shipping there can affect fuel supplies, transportation, food prices, and economies around the world.
These examples demonstrate something we sometimes forget: Environmental resources are not simply things we consume. They are sources of power. But there is another political question hidden in almost every environmental dispute: Who pays the price?
A company may profit from cutting a forest, mining a mineral, drilling for oil, or manufacturing a product. But what happens when the environmental costs are passed on to someone else? Who pays for the polluted river, contaminated groundwater, destroyed habitat, increased wildfire risk, or health consequences? The company may receive the profits while taxpayers, communities, future generations, or the natural world absorb the costs.
And then there is the question of future generations. Do we have the right to consume a resource simply because we can afford to buy it today? Or do we have an obligation to leave something behind for those who come after us?
These questions have become increasingly difficult in a politically divided America. There was a time when environmental protection was largely a bipartisan issue. Landmark environmental legislation was passed during the Republican administrations of Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford with significant bipartisan support. Over time, however, liberal and conservative views on environmental regulation began to diverge.
I don't believe the choice has to be between the environment and the economy. The economy depends upon the environment. We need water to grow food. We need healthy forests and soils to sustain ecosystems. We need energy to run our homes and industries. A stable climate supports the systems upon which modern civilization depends.
Perhaps that is why Antheia in the Thorns ended up in the political category. Environmental problems are not simply about trees, rivers, wildlife, or climate. They are about power, ownership, responsibility, and who gets to decide how the resources we all depend upon are used. They are also about who benefits from those resources—and who pays when the costs are ignored.
Those are political questions. And perhaps they are among the most important questions we face. PLEASE SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS IN THE COMMENT SECTION.
Art is always for sale on my website. To purchase Trees Most Majestic go
https://www.eichingerfineart.com/workszoom/4075738/trees-most-majestic#/
References:
Urrea Vivas, M. (2024Political Ecology and Environmental Conflicts: The Struggle over Natural Resources.Harvard Advanced Leadership initiative in Social Impact Review. Retrieved from https://www.sir.advancedleadership.harvard.edu/articles/political-ecology-environmental-conflicts-struggle-over-natural-resources
Nawrotski, r.(2026) The politics of environmental concern: A cross-national analysis. National Library of Medicine. Abstract retrieved from https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC5017589/
Faculty (1921) Political Stability and Environmental Sustainability, Columbia University School of Professional Studies. Retrieved from https://sps.columbia.edu/news/political-stability-and-environmental-sustainability
News Release (2024) Isreael’s Crime of Extermination, Acts of Genocide. Human rights Watch. Retrieved from https://www.hrw.org/news/2024/12/19/israels-crime-extermination-acts-genocide-gaza?utm_source=chatgpt.com
Harmash, O. & Voitenko, A. (2026)Ukraine endures its bitterest winter as Russian targets heating and power. Reuters. Retrieved from https://www.reuters.com/world/ukraine-endures-its-bitterest-winter-russia-targets-heating-power-2026-01-21/?utm_source
7/31/2026 11:11:20 PM
OPUS 4
Small Things, Big Impact
We often think our lives are changed by major events—a graduation, a wedding, the birth of a child, the loss of someone we love. Yet when I look back, it isn't the dramatic milestones that shaped me most. It is the small moments, almost invisible at the time, that quietly redirected my life.
I remember when my one-year-old son finally learned how to navigate the six carpeted steps leading to our living room. Instead of tumbling down headfirst, he discovered that if he turned around and backed down, he could descend safely. It may have been only six stairs, but to him it was a monumental achievement. He climbed up and down them more than two dozen times before we finally pulled him away.
To an adult, mastering six steps hardly seems noteworthy. To my son, those stairs represented freedom. Suddenly, a whole new part of the house belonged to him. For me, it meant keeping a much closer eye on an adventurous toddler. Looking back, I realize those six little steps also taught me something: life's biggest transformations often begin with the smallest victories.
Many of my own turning points began just as quietly. I first became aware of prejudice while planning my eleventh birthday party. My mother told me I could invite every girl in my sixth-grade class except one—I'll call her Janine. She was the only Black girl in our predominantly white suburban classroom. Janine and I were playground friends, and I wanted her to celebrate with us.
My mother explained that Janine's birthday fell on the same day as mine, so she was probably having her own party. Even at eleven, I sensed that wasn't the real reason. I remember feeling confused, disappointed, and deeply uncomfortable. I had imagined a birthday cake with both our names on it. Instead, that simple conversation became one of the clearest memories of my childhood.
It also became one of the most influential. That brief exchange awakened a lifelong sensitivity to racism and bigotry. I worried that Janine might feel rejected. Perhaps she did. We remained playground friends, but she never visited my home.
Years later, while I was in college, I encountered a quotation by Anatole France that quietly changed me once again: "Even a little dog is the center of his own universe." Those few words transformed the way I viewed other people. I began to understand that every person experiences life through a unique collection of memories, joys, disappointments, and struggles. Just as no two fingerprints are identical, no two people interpret the world in exactly the same way. Over time, those countless experiences shape our personalities, our beliefs, and our values. That simple quotation made me slower to judge and more curious to understand.
My life also changed through the gentle influence of the people closest to me. Before the women's movement became part of everyday conversation, many girls grew up expecting to marry, raise children, and build a home. That was my dream as well. I planned to be the best wife and mother I could be, leaving the wider world largely to my husband.
Instead, my husbands gradually expanded my world. They introduced me to science, the arts, and travel. They encouraged my curiosity and supported me as I developed a career of my own. More importantly, they demonstrated the value of embracing the unknown instead of fearing it. None of those lessons arrived with fanfare. They came through countless conversations, shared experiences, and quiet encouragement. Looking back, I can see how those small influences accumulated until I became a stronger, more independent woman.
After two twenty-year marriages to wonderful men ended, I wondered whether I could continue growing on my own. I had learned from them how to live fully, but now I had to prove it to myself.
Traveling alone, driving long distances, striking up conversations with strangers, speaking honestly, and standing up for causes I believed in did not come naturally. Each challenge seemed small by itself, but together they slowly built confidence. Growth, I discovered, isn't usually one giant leap. More often, it is a series of tiny acts of courage.
For the past thirty years, I have shared my life with someone whose interests differ from mine in many ways. Yet he, too, has quietly changed me. His love of the natural world deepened my own appreciation for forests, wildlife, and wild places—an influence that now finds its way into the novels I write.
When I look back over my life, I don't see a handful of dramatic turning points. I see hundreds of seemingly ordinary moments: a toddler mastering six stairs, an uncomfortable conversation with my mother, a quotation in a college classroom, words of encouragement from those I loved, small risks that gradually became larger ones. Individually, none of them seemed life-changing. Together, they became the stepping stones that led me to the person I am today.
Perhaps the same is true for you. Take a few minutes to look back over your own life. What small conversation, chance meeting, book, teacher, disappointment, or act of kindness quietly changed your direction? We often overlook these moments because they seem so ordinary. But when we connect them, we begin to see that our lives are shaped less by life's grand events than by the countless small experiences that, little by little, become who we are.
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Today, the second book in The Rightfully Mine Series, Antheia in the Thorns, is a Manhattan Gold Award winner. It follows The Water Factor, an International Firefly Award winner. My thanks to the people who shaped my life and made me stronger.
Books can be purchased by clicking AMAZON.
5/10/2026 11:12:36 AM
THE SANTIAM BURN
THE DEVISTATION LEFT BY A VAST FIRE IN OREGON INSPIRED THIS PAINTING AND THE BOOK I'M PRESENTLY WRITING ABOUT OUR NATIONAL PARKS AND FORESTS
While giving book talks or attending art show openings of my paintings, I am often asked what inspired me. The only honest answer to that question is life itself—both living it and observing it. There are times, whether in moments of crisis or joy, when I mentally step outside the experience and watch it as though I were a stranger witnessing the situation unfold. At other times, when frustration or sorrow weighs heavily on me, a blank sheet of paper or an empty canvas calls out as a place to pour out the soul’s unrest.
The day my son was diagnosed with cancer, I went to my studio and splashed my grief across a canvas, yet somehow created a painting filled with hope, healing, and resilience. When the temperature climbed to 117 degrees and wildfires blackened the landscape, I did the same, finding solace while painting the scorched trees and smoke-filled skies that occupied my thoughts.
During the long walks I took throughout COVID-19, I became fascinated by the front doors of the houses I passed. I found myself imagining the people who lived behind them and the lives they carried within those walls. Those observations stirred my imagination and eventually became the inspiration for a blog in 2021. The walks kept my mind percolating until my fingers later moved rapidly across the keyboard. Immersed in writing, I enjoyed every moment of free time the lockdown gave me.
I was fortunate to travel extensively in my younger years, and the journeys that affected me most were those with a purpose beyond sightseeing. In Poland, I participated in an archaeological dig. In Kenya, I joined a research project studying elephant behavior in the wild. I experienced homestays in the Andes Mountains, in a Cuban plantation town, and in a village deep within the Amazon rainforest. I traveled extensively in China when towns were being demolished and million person cities were established almost overnight. Experiences like these deepened my curiosity about the customs people practice, the values they cherish, and the ways culture shapes identity.
As a mental health professional, and later while managing museums and businesses, I learned to look beyond the surface of the people I encountered. Their motives, backgrounds, fears, and dreams were endlessly varied and deeply compelling. If I were given another fifty years to live, it still would not be enough time to share all I have learned about the human struggle to find meaning in life.
The Water Factor is infused with experiences drawn from Africa and from the African families I have met in the United States. Cave explorations in Costa Rico, archaeological digs in the Southwest, and rock-climbing adventures near home all found their way into Antheia in the Thorns.
So, it is life that inspires and enriches the Rightfully Mine Series and the paintings I share in each blog. It is the practice of remaining aware of one’s surroundings and attentive to others while moving through the world. And finally, it is the willingness to look inward—to examine my own soul and understand how I respond to the situations life places before me.
Other Inspirations:
The dark days and riots following George Floyd's death inspired this painting of hope.
. 
Helping a homeless boy climb a fence that took him from poverty to a living wage
inspired the painting (OVER THE FENCE) and teh book (OVER THE PEANUT FENCE)
Paying attention to the environment, learning about global warming, and watching the quality of ouor ocians and air degrade inspired the painting (One Seed at A Time) and the The Rightfully Mine Series of Books.
What inspired you to create something you value. Please share in the comment secdtion below.
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Recently published, Antheia in the Thorns is an environmental thriller about power, corruption, loss, and regaining purpose. Marilynne Eichinger follows Jennifer Russo, a grieving mother who lost a child, and Abdul Hammed Dillinger, who escaped his father's cruelty. Together their stories illuminate the effect trauma has on behavior and how individuals evolve over time. Human lives are complex, influenced by environment and happenstance. The second thriller in the Rightfully Mine series remains at a reduced price while we get the word out. Your early reviews are greatly appreciated. Purchase at AMAZON SERIES.
4/17/2026 4:06:21 PM
HEAVEN AND BEYOND
Heaven in religious contexts is the abode of God, angels, and the blessed dead, representing a state of eternal happiness. In science it refers to the sky and outer space.
RADICAL UNCERTAINTY
Radical Uncertainty describes situations where the future cannot be predicted—not because we lack data, but because the system itself is unknowale. It is a recognized concept in economics and decision-making, detailed in a 2020 book by John Kay and Mervyn King, and applied to events such as pandemics and major geopolitical shifts. In this article, I consider it in a broader sense, through the lens of the universe, what we do and don't know, and how we find meaning while living with uncertainty. As innovation creates uncertainty, so too does nature, and our quest for knowledge beyond our solar system.
The latest map of the universe, released by astronomers, reveals more than 47 million galaxies. It was constructed by research teams using the Dark Energy Spectroscopic Instrument (DESI) in Arizona, surveying large portions of the night sky over a five-year period. Scientists investigating the mystery of dark energy are searching for the unknown force driving the universe's accelerating expansion. No one knows exactly what it is, but since Albert Einstein, it has often been treated as a cosmological constant. The new map suggests that dark energy may not be constant after all, and could alter the ultimate fate of the universe.
It makes me feel small-insignificant, even a little foolish-when I get upset about mundane problems here on Earth. This week, for example, while trying to switch to a less expensive internet and cellular plan, we managed to disrupt our service entirely. We lost connectivity. We were frustrated, even angry, at a provider that had promised so much yet still hasn't managed to transfer our incoming calls. We weren't just frustrated-we were dependent, and suddenly aware of it.
It was then that I began to marvel at how something as small as a cell phone, a microdot in the universe, could provoke such emotion. I thought about how remarkable it is simply to be alive on this planet, a thinking human being, traveling through space.
There are roughly 100-400 billion stars in our galaxy. Our solar system is just one of many in which planets orbit their stars. According to NASA, even the nearest stars are trillions of miles away. One exoplanet, HD 40307g, is estimated to have a mass several times that of Earth. Another, Kepler-16b, orbits two stars-its sunsets would feature twin suns sinking below the horizon. Astronomers have identified multiple Earth-sized planets that may contain liquid water
How we integrate this knowledge into everyday life is puzzling. We behave as though we are masters of a planet that is both central and singular in the universe. We have developed a wide range of belief systems, each with followers convinced that their version explains the cosmos and listens to their prayers. Scientists generally believe that simple life may be common in the universe, but whether intelligent, technologically advanced life is widespread remains an open question. The vast number of potentially habitable planets suggests it could be, but the evolutionary steps that occurred on Earth, from single-celled to complex life, may be rare.
Without evidence, much of what lies beyond our direct experience remains speculation. Those driven by curiosity continue to explore. The Artemis program aims to return humans to the Moon and push further into space. Others question why any of this should matter. Life on Earth is already difficult enough. Many people seek certainty wherever they can find it, simply to move through their days without constant unease.
A few days from now, the phone issue will be resolved-or it won't. Another frustration will take its place. That is how life unfolds: small problems filling our field of vision. But beyond that, galaxies continue drifting apart. Light travels for millions of years just to reach us. And here we are, briefly aware of both the inconvenience and the immensity.
Yet for all the uncertainty beyond our planet, one thing is clear: this is the only home we know. Among billions of galaxies and countless stars, Earth is not important because it is central-it is important because it is ours. We argue over inconvenience while the systems that sustain us-forests, oceans, climate-shift in ways we only partially understand. Radical uncertainty does not excuse inaction. It demands humility.
We may never fully understand dark energy or distant worlds. But we understand well enough that this one is fragile. In a universe defined by uncertainty, caring for what we have may be the closest thing to certainty and responsibility we can claim.
References:
Claire Cameron, (2026) Behold! This is the largest, sharpest 3D map of the universe yet. Scientific American. Retrieved from https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/astronomers-just-finished-the-biggest-sharpest-3d-map-of-the-universe-its-beautiful/
NASA Science website, (2021) How Many Solar Systems Are in Our Galaxy? NASA Science Space Place. Retrieved from https://spaceplace.nasa.gov/other-solar-systems/en/
Brennan, P. (2021) Life in the Universe: what are the Odds? NASA Science. Retrieved from https://science.nasa.gov/universe/exoplanets/life-in-the-universe-what-are-the-odds/
Art is always for sale on my website. Heaven and Beyond is a 20” by 24” acrylic painting on cavas, framed. Available at https://www.eichingerfineart.com/workszoom/1662380/heaven-and-beyond#/
_________________________________________________________________________________________The Rightfully Mine Series can help you better understand this world and how to care for it. They are thrillers based on facts that will keep you page turning. The Water Factor follows the plight of a Native American Reservation who contracted with a corporation that steals their water, and the young man who takes it upon himself to do something about it. Antheia in the Thorns follows a woman who emerges from depression after the loss of her child, fighting for the right to clean air and an unpolluted ocean.
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Eichinger books are available on AMAZON.
4/3/2026 3:43:29 PM
Sapsucker on Paw Paw Tree
Pecking Away : Life’s Challenges
Woodpeckers are among the most remarkable birds in the natural world — instantly recognizable by their rhythmic tapping as they hunt for insects beneath the bark. Built for impact, they can strike a tree up to twenty times per second without injury, their anatomy absorbing shocks that would leave other animals stunned.
There are more than 230 species worldwide, with about 22 found in the United States. They thrive in forests, woodlands, and even scrub environments, quietly performing essential work. By feeding on insects, they help control pest populations. By carving cavities, they create homes not only for themselves but for other birds and small animals. In this way, woodpeckers don’t just live in ecosystems — they help build them.
Saddly, even these resilient birds are under threat. Several species are now critically endangered due to habitat loss, collisions, pollution, and the accelerating effects of climate change. Birds, more broadly, are among the clearest indicators of environmental health. They pollinate plants, disperse seeds, and regulate pests. When bird populations decline, it signals deeper imbalances in the systems that sustain life.
Across the globe, those declines are accelerating. Forests are cleared for agriculture. Wetlands are drained for development. Grasslands give way to expanding cities. With each change, birds lose breeding grounds, feeding areas, and the migratory stopovers they depend on to survive.
Pollution compounds the damage. Pesticides and heavy metals weaken birds directly and reduce their food supply. Oil spills contaminate habitats. Plastic debris leads to starvation and internal injury. Lead from ammunition and fishing gear poisons countless birds each year. Even the unintended consequences of pest control ripple upward, as birds ingest poisoned prey.
Climate change intensifies every one of these pressures. Migration patterns shift out of sync with food availability. Extreme weather events — storms, droughts, heat waves — become more frequent and more deadly. On top of this come familiar but still devastating forces: hunting, disease, invasive species, and domestic predators.
For generations, birds were carried into coal mines as an early warning system. When the air turned toxic, they died first. Today, they are still warning us, only now the danger is everywhere. The numbers surrounding our future are unsettling. The global population is projected to reach 8.6 billion by 2030. At the same time, experts warn that current efforts to slow climate change fall far short. U.N. risk assessments, even if speculative, suggest nontrivial chances of catastrophic outcomes within this century. More immediate, and more certain, are the stresses already unfolding: strained supply chains, political instability, and environmental systems pushed toward tipping points. Climate change and pollution are not distant threats; they are active pressures reshaping daily life.
Other risks loom alongside them. Advances in biotechnology and artificial intelligence are powerful, but not without danger. The number of laboratories handling high-risk pathogens is increasing. New AI tools make biological and chemical manipulation more accessible. Nuclear conflict, too, remains a persistent and sobering possibility producing a nuclear winter., a catastrophe that would wipe out agriculture.
Meanwhile, six of the nine planetary boundaries the U.N. recognizes have already been crossed, including those related to climate, land use, and nutrient cycles. The Greenland ice sheet, Atlantic circulation, and the Amazon rainforest are key systems sthat show early signs of destabilization. The world’s leading climate scientists warn that with every fraction of a degree of warming, the risks to food, water, and human stability increase. Without immediate action, we are heading toward a far more dangerous and unstable future.
The trajectory is clear: a world that becomes harder to live in. Food more expensive. Weather more volatile. Displacement more common. Conflict more likely. The difference between acting now and delaying action is not abstract. It is the difference between a difficult future and a far harsher one.
In Antheia in the Thorns, I explore these themes through fiction. Abdul Dillinger, a climate denier, profits from petroleum coke, an industrial byproduct that looks like coal, burns hotter, and pollutes more heavily. The United States produces more of it than any other country, exporting the vast majority abroad. If we know it harms health and climate, why do we continue to send it elsewhere?
In the novel, Jennifer Russo and Brian Adakai confront that question head-on. Like woodpeckers, they persist, striking again and again against something dense, resistant, and deeply embedded. Change rarely comes all at once. It comes from steady pressure. From people willing to keep pecking away.
The birds are still doing their part. The question is whether we will do ours.
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I look forward to your comments below.
16" by 20" canvas copis of the Sapsucker on Paw Paw for sale on my website for $99, including shipping in continental U.S. Contact me with questions at [email protected]
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References:
Website (2026). Encyclopedial Britannica. Retrieved from https://www.britannica.com/animal/woodpecker
Website( 2005) Science Insights, Retrieved from https://scienceinsights.org/will-humans-go-extinct-in-2030-the-real-odds/#google_vignette
Website. (2006)U.S. Energy information Administration. (2026) Most U.S.petroleum coke is exported. Retrieved from https://www.eia.gov/todayinenergy/detail.php?id=63705
Website (2026) IPCC Synthesis Report, Retrieved from the U.N.’s Intergovernmental Panel on Climate https://www.ipcc.ch/assessment-report/ar6/?utm_source=chatgpt.com.
Website (2024) Emissions Gap Report 2024, United Nations. Retrieved from https://www.ipcc.ch/assessment-report/ar6/?utm_source=chatgpt.com. ( the trajectory warning if 1.5°C goals is not met by 2030
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Antheia in the Thorns is an environmental thriller about power, corruption, loss, and regaining purpose. Marilynne Eichinger follows Jennifer Russo, a grieving mother who lost a child, and Abdul Hammed Dillinger, who escaped his father's cruelty. Together their stories illuminate the effect trauma has on behavior and how individuals evolve over time. Human lives are complex, influenced by environment and happenstance. The second thriller in the Rightfully Mine series remains at a reduced price while we get the word out. Your early reviews are greatly appreciated. Purchase at AMAZON SERIES.
3/27/2026 5:39:31 PM
What would you do if you found someone dumping toxins in a pond by an Alder grove?
I invited Alena Wren to share her thoughts since I was out of town this week, visiting family. She is an insightful young woman with a compassionate heart.
Who Gets to Decide What Is Sacrifice? On acceptable loss, invisible harm, and the people who never get asked.
There is a phrase that appears in policy discussions, corporate reports, and courtrooms so often that it has almost stopped meaning anything: acceptable risk. It sounds reasonable. Measured. Scientific, even. But the more I sit with it after reading the book, the more I find myself asking a different question: acceptable to whom? When a refinery decides where to store its waste, when a corporation calculates the cost of pollution against the cost of prevention, when regulators weigh economic growth against environmental damage — someone, somewhere, is deciding what counts as an acceptable loss. And almost never are those decisions made by the people who will live with the consequences.
I have been thinking about this since finishing Rachel Carson's Silent Spring for the third time. Carson published her landmark book in 1962, and the resistance she faced was fierce. The chemical industry called her hysterical. Scientists paid by corporations disputed her data. A spokesperson for one pesticide manufacturer reportedly asked why a spinster with no children should be concerned about future generations at all. What Carson had done was simple and devastating: she had named the harm. She had made visible what the industry preferred to keep invisible. And once something is seen clearly, it is very hard to unsee.
That act of naming is at the center of Antheia in the Thorns. The title itself carries meaning worth pausing on. Antheia is the Greek goddess of gardens, flowers, and love — a figure associated with growth, beauty, and the natural world. To find her in the thorns is to find something gentle and life-giving caught in a place of pain and struggle, fighting to get free. That image is Jennifer Russo's story before a single word of plot is spoken.
When Jennifer walks into Oregon's protected wilderness and finds men dumping black industrial waste into a pristine pond, she is not yet an activist. She is a grieving woman, barely functioning, looking for a few hours of quiet. But she sees what she sees. And seeing it — really seeing it — changes everything. The substance being dumped is petroleum coke, petcoke for short. It is a heavy byproduct of oil refining, cheaper to produce than coal, and far more polluting. The United States is its largest producer, yet most Americans have never heard of it. It is shipped overseas, stored in dusty open piles near ports and rivers and communities that had no say in the matter. The people living closest to those piles breathe the particles. Their children develop asthma. Their crops fail. Their complaints are filed away.
That is acceptable risk, as defined by people who do not live there.
The oil tycoon at the center of my story, Abdul Hammed Dillinger, is not a cartoon villain. He is, in his own mind, a builder. A provider. A man who keeps the lights on and the economy moving. He has surrounded himself with lawyers, calculations, and rationalizations that allow him to look at the damage his operations cause and see an unfortunate externality rather than a crime.
The booked helped me see that gap — between how harm looks from the boardroom and how it looks from the ground — as where her real story lives.
Carson wrote that the question was not whether humans had the right to use science and industry to improve their lives, but whether they had the right to impose those choices on others without their knowledge or consent. Sixty years later, the question has not gone away. It has only grown more complicated.
What strikes me most about ordinary people who become activists — the Jennifer Russos of the world, and the real people she is drawn from — is not their anger. It is their clarity. At some point, they stop asking for permission to care. They stop waiting for someone in authority to validate what they can see with their own eyes. They decide that what is happening is wrong, and they act on that conviction even when it costs them everything. That is not naivety. That is courage.
Carson faced ridicule, illness, and a coordinated campaign to discredit her. She finished Silent Spring while dying of cancer, and she published it anyway. Two years later, she was gone. But the book outlasted every company that tried to silence her. Some stories are worth telling because silence costs too much.
―――――――――――――――――――― Antheia Antheia in the Thorns is an environmental thriller about power, corruption, loss, and the kind of courage that does not announce itself. Marilynne Eichinger follows Jennifer Russo, a grieving mother searching for peace in the Oregon wilderness, and Abdul Hammed Dillinger, an oil tycoon whose empire depends on things staying buried. Their collision is the second thriller in the Rightfully Mine series.
The ebook is available now at an introductory price. If you decide to read it, an honest review on Amazon helps more than most people realize — it is the most powerful way to help this story reach new readers.
Purchase on Amazon
Warmly, Aleyna Wren, Guest Writer
Aleyna grasps the urgency of my writing. I am sure she will be interested in your comments. Please share your thoughts on my blog post.
Canvas prints of tree paintings are available for $99 shipped directly to your home. Explore and purchase online at https://www.eichingerfineart.com/collections/182747
3/6/2026 3:36:11 PM
GOLD STATIC
It requires stamina to wade through the static interfering with your happiness.
Walking at the Speed of Remembrance: One of the quiet shocks of aging is the way time begins to accelerate. Memories no longer line up politely in order. They arrive in flashes, scenes tumbling through the mind like leaves caught in a sudden wind. Some are warm. Others still sting.
My earliest memory is of my father leaving for Europe during the Second World War. My grandpa, too old to fight, patrolled the neighborhood streets at night, making sure blackout shades were pulled tight against the windows. Grandma tended a tiny victory garden next to their garage. My aunt and her young son moved into our house. She and my mother counted food coupons carefully at the grocery store, stretching what little they had.
On Saturday afternoons, I was sent to the movie theater where I sat with over a hundred children, watching newsreels before the matinee. Nazi soldiers marched and saluted Hitler. Jewish families were herded into trucks and trains. Books burned in towering fires. On the American home front, we also saw Japanese American families forced from their homes, boarding buses bound for relocation camps in places I had never heard of. I was too young to understand what any of it meant. Only after the war ended did I learn that more than six million Jewish people had been murdered, and that 120,000 Japanese American citizens had been imprisoned by their own government.
For years after the war, I distrusted Germans, even those who may have been powerless bystanders to what was happening around them. At the same time, I believed Americans would never commit such cruelty ourselves. I did not yet know about the internment camps scattered across our own country. I thought only, how could the Germans have allowed this to happen? Then came the Cold War, and fear took on a different shape. The McCarthy hearings ruined the careers of movie stars, artists, and scientists I admired. Newspaper headlines shouted about communism, socialism, the Red threat, and the looming possibility of nuclear war. Schools practiced air-raid drills. Kids crouched beneath desks as if thin wood could shield them from a bomb. My friends and I envied the families wealthy enough to build bomb shelters in their backyards. I was living in Boston then and imagined our city would be among the first to vanish in a flash of light.
When the Cold War finally ended and the Berlin Wall fell, I again found myself asking uncomfortable questions. How had I, a college-educated woman, absorbed so much fear without questioning it? The nations that had lived for decades under the Soviet flag were suddenly struggling for independence. The world I thought I understood had been built partly on propaganda about fighting for peace. Yet the wars did not stop. Cuba. Korea. Vietnam. Cambodia. Afghanistan. Iraq. Ukraine. Gaza. This week, Iran. The numbers of the dead blur together: millions here, hundreds of thousands there, depending on who is counting and how the counting is done. Behind every number is a body, a family, a life interrupted. Heaven only knows how many survivors carry injuries that will never heal.
Now, when I watch the devastation in Gaza and see immigrant families sent to concentration centers in our country, I hear the same questions echoing back to me. How does such suffering become possible? Why does the United States keep fanning the flames rather than putting out the fires? How do ordinary Americans accept what is going on? All my life, I was told these wars were necessary. We were different, our leaders said. We are not cruel. We were defending freedom. We were protecting democracy. I believed it for a long time.
But age has a way of stripping away simple stories. The world looks less certain now, our country less righteous than it once seemed. Power has concentrated in the hands of the wealthy and the ambitious. Leaders speak openly about expanding influence in Canada, Greenland, Cuba, Gaza, Venezuela, Mexico, as if borders mean nothing. From beyond our shores, many people look at us with confusion. Some with anger. They ask how Americans allowed such a moment to arrive. Are Americans stupid, spineless, or just plain mean? Lately, I find myself asking the same questions over and over.
The memories and the fears keep coming, faster now, as if time itself were urging me not to forget. Despite it all, I believe my countrymen and women are basically good, willing to help each other and those who are less fortunate. They won’t let a few power-hungry billionaires control our democratic institutions—or will they?
The Declaration of Independence states, "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men (and women) are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.” To me, that means voting for people who will guarantee those rights. It means having the right to pure air, clean water, and a land devoid of pollutants. The good and evil within each of us engage in ongoing fights for superiority. The Rightfully Mine Series was started, in part, to nudge these battles to end on the high ground, benefiting all.
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In the Rightfully Mine novels, readers witness how people balance extremes. The greedy are at times generous, the weak are often strong, and the charitable can be self-centered, harming others. My recently released thriller, Antheia in the Thorns, shows this complexity beautifully. Abdul Dillinger learns how to control others, eliminating threats he deems necessary. Yet he is a loving father, a family man, who is also good to his wife and the mistresses that she does’t like but acknowledges. Jennifer Russo becomes so wrapped up in her depression she can’t see is blind to how her illness affected her husband. Her husband, who used to hike and preserve natural areas, practices law that keeps polluters from being punished. The characters are complex, with egos that occasionally get in their way. There is much to learn about the environment and my books, but there is more to explore about human nature. Advanced copies of Antheia in the Thorns and The Water Factor can be purchased online at AMAZON SERIES
Art is alwasy for sale and shipped free in the continental U.S. Gold Static can be purchased online at https://www.eichingerfineart.com/workszoom/4268940/gold-static#/
2/14/2026 12:36:22 PM
To my friends, family, and loyal blog readers,
I’ve been waiting months to share this with you. Antheia in the Thorns is now live on Amazon for presale, and for a limited time, the ebook is discounted as a thank-you to early readers. It is an exciting, yet informative read for young adults through senior citizens.
For more than three years, this story has lived with me, following one woman’s journey through grief as she confronts a hidden yet powerful environmental danger—petcoke. Picture black dust drifting quietly into our neighborhoods and waterways, silent signals of the challenges beneath the surface.
Jennifer Russo, an archeologist marked by loss, escapes to the wilds of Oregon in search of peace, only to stumble upon a secret that upended her world.
If you’ve been with me on the blog, you know I never shy away from what matters. My stories dig into reality. This one is grounded in the silent forces that work out of sight, tainting our air, dusting our cities black, polluting the ocean, and leaving a legacy that lingers long after the harm is done.
f you decide to preorder, your support means the world to me. After reading, I’d be grateful if you left and honest review. Even a few words or a simple star rating can help my book reach new readers and truly make a difference. Thanks in advance for helping to make this launch memorable. Purchase now and have it delivered to your inbox on February 20th.
Here’s the presale link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GNCV2BGK?ref=sp_email
Thank you for reading my blogs all these years. Your comments and encouragement keep me writing.
Warmly,
Marilynne
(To set up a book talk, contact me at [email protected])
2/6/2026 6:58:13 PM
THE CAVE
Silence: Before the Story Begins
Before Antheia in the Thorns becomes a story about land, power, and resistance, it begins with a woman alone in the dark.
Jen Russo is not an activist when readers first meet her. She is not thinking about corporations, policy, or climate models. She is a grieving woman. Her child is gone, and the world she understood no longer makes sense. When she enters the cave in the opening chapter, she does not do so to prove anything or to be brave. She goes because grief has stripped her of caution. The ordinary rules of what is safe, what is sensible, and what is worth fearing no longer apply.
That was important to me as a writer. Environmental stories often begin with a catastrophe or confrontation. I wanted this one to begin with silence. I also wanted readers to ask why such an unpolitical person as Jen would become an activist.
The cave is not symbolic in a definable way. It is not a place of revelation or rebirth. It is cold, damp, and indifferent. It has existed for thousands of years and will exist long after Jen’s pain has burned itself out. Yet inside the cave, time behaves strangely. Sounds from the outside world are swallowed as the light recedes. Jen’s thoughts circle the same thoughts again and again: that love does not guarantee protection, that nature does not bargain with humans, and that loss does not announce itself politely.
In the confined space of the cave, Jen is not fighting anything. She is simply enduring.
I was interested in how grief collapses the distance between people and the natural world. When you are grieving deeply, your environment no longer feels like home. The wind is sharper, the ground feels harder. The darkness within and without feels personal. Jen doesn’t enter the cave seeking communion with nature; she enters it because she no longer cares if nature is kind to her. That indifference, hers and the cave’s, meets in a way that feels honest to the emotional reality of loss.
When she becomes trapped, it’s not by a villain. There isn’t a human antagonist with malicious intent. Just a body pushed beyond its limits and a place that does not notice. Yet, despite all she’s been through, having crawled into that uncaring cave ignites a spark of curiosity, and that matters.
One of the quiet arguments in Antheia in the Thorns is that harm does not always come from cruelty. Sometimes it comes from systems, from neglect, from loss, and from the simple fact that the world keeps moving even when individuals cannot. Jen’s experience mirrors life on a personal scale. The cave is not evil. It simply exists. Like people trapped in the darkness of their minds, those who struggle through have the choice to survive and thrive or to wither away.
Jen’s rescue by Bear and Zane, forestry students who happen to be in the area, is not a triumphant moment. It is somewhat awkward, human, and imperfect. Her rescuers are not heroes in the cinematic sense. They are young, unsure, and startled by the weight of what they have stumbled into. They don’t save Jen so much as interrupt her isolation. They pull her back into a world that still hurts and welcome her into the light.
That moment sets the emotional key for the entire novel.
What happens after—the activism, the confrontations, the betrayals, and the risks only work because they are grounded in an earlier truth: that people do not enter movements because they are fearless. They enter them because something has already broken open inside them. Jen’s grief is not a subplot. It is the emotional soil from which the rest of the story grows.
I want readers to understand, from the very beginning, that Antheia in the Thorns is not asking them to admire courage. It is asking them to recognize vulnerability. Jen’s pain is not to motivate others or to prove a point. It simply exists, and the world must make room for it.
In environmental conversations, personal grief is often treated as a distraction. It’s too emotional, too personal, or too soft to discuss. But grief is where attention sharpens. It is where denial fails. It is where people stop accepting easy answers. Though Jen does not leave the cave enlightened, she has become curious and emerges changed. And change, once it begins, is difficult to contain.
The cave scene is quiet by design, without speeches or great revelations. It just carries breath, darkness, stone, and the fragile persistence of being alive. Yet everything that follows in the novel, the resistance, the risk, the refusal to look away, echoes back to that first silence.
Before the story could be told, it had to listen to the silence. Only after finding herself could she process the horrific sight she saw on her way back to her car. As Antheia in the Thorns prepares to enter the world on February 20th, I hope readers pause over moments like this one, not because they are dramatic, but because they are true.
I’m looking forward to unveiling the cover next week. Until then, if you haven’t already read it, now is the perfect time to read The Water Factor, the first book in the Rightfully Mine Series. The novel is available in ebook, paperback, and audio formats. It can be purchased on AMAZON, Barnes and Noble, and as an audiobook on Amazon, Audible, and iTunes.
