Natural carbon sinks are weakening, and if they fail, it will trigger runaway climate change from which we will not be able to recover. Nature’s carbon sponges cannot keep pace with the massive amount of carbon (CO₂) being generated by our fossil-fuel-intensive economies. The Earth’s carbon cycling capacity is faltering, and if the planet stops buffering our emissions, there is no hope of staving off the worst impacts of climate change. Natural carbon sinks absorb half the emissions humans generate each year. Without them, atmospheric emissions will rise dramatically and push the planet toward irreversible collapse. A carbon sink is any system that absorbs and stores more carbon dioxide from the atmosphere than it releases. Examples of natural carbon sinks include oceans, forests, and soils. Their ability to sequester carbon is what keeps our planet from getting unsustainably hot. Carbon sinks cool the planet by reducing the concentration of global-warming-causing greenhouse gases (primarily CO₂) in the atmosphere. However, nature’s capacity is not infinite. A carbon sink can become a source of carbon. The three biggest natural carbon sinks are oceans, forests, and soil. Oceans hold 38,000 gigatons (Gt) of CO₂ that they absorb through chemical, physical, and biological processes (e.g., phytoplankton). Forests store 870 Gt of CO₂. Trees and plants absorb CO₂ during photosynthesis, storing it in trunks, roots, and soil. The top 3 feet of soil contain 1,700 Gt of carbon, which is more than twice the amount of CO₂ emitted by fossil fuels since the dawn of the industrial revolution. Soil absorbs CO₂ primarily through a process called soil carbon sequestration, which stores carbon in organic matter (SOM), composed of dead plant matter and microbes. The amount of carbon in the soil is decreasing, and losing its capacity to store carbon. Soils are storing less CO₂ due to global warming, intensive farming, and agricultural conversion. Deforestation releases carbon from the soil, and it also eliminates the carbon sequestering capacity of the trees and vegetation that are removed. Some forests are switching from carbon sinks to net emitters of CO₂. A 2023 paper found that parts of the Amazon rainforest became net carbon emitters. This is the case in Australia’s tropical rainforest, where extreme temperatures and drier conditions have resulted in more dead trees and less tree growth. Another 2025 study found that Africa’s forests may have also hit a tipping point, transitioning from carbon sink to carbon emitter. Earlier studies indicate that parts of the Amazon rainforest are also emitting more carbon than they are sequestering The oceans are by far the Earth’s largest carbon sink, and they are losing their ability to store CO₂. A 2025 study indicates that some parts of the ocean (e.g., tropical seas) have switched from sinks to sources of carbon. The weakening of the ocean’s biological carbon pump is disrupting the movement of CO₂ from the surface to the deep sea. This weakening is primarily due to global warming, which disrupts the natural physical and biological “conveyor belt” that transports carbon from the sunlit surface to the deep sea. Warming is also contributing to phytoplankton declines, which significantly decreases the ocean’s CO₂ absorbing capacity. This observation was corroborated by a 2025 study that found the oceans have less chlorophyll, which is associated with a lowered carbon sequestration capacity. The temperature-stabilizing capacity of natural carbon sinks is in jeopardy, and anthropogenic emissions keep increasing. If oceans, forests, and soils, stop absorbing carbon, the climate system will shift from self-regulating to self-amplifying. As natural carbon sinks lose their capacity to mitigate climate change, warming will dramatically accelerate. Warming of this magnitude risks triggering irreversible climate tipping points and ecosystem collapse. This will cause widespread disruption to food systems and water supplies. The weakening of natural carbon sinks is a threat to all life on Earth as well as human civilization. While human efforts like conserving forests, sustainable farming, restoring wetlands, and supporting kelp forests can increase nature’s capacity to absorb carbon, these efforts are not coming remotely close to keeping pace with the emissions emanating from our fossil-fuel-powered economies. Without these natural buffers, emissions cuts, no matter how large, will not be enough. These sinks are Earth’s last line of defense, and if they fail, the climate crisis will escalate from dangerous to unavoidably catastrophic. |
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genderequalitygoals
Wednesday, 4 February 2026
Weakening Natural Carbon Sinks Are a Climate Clarion Call
The Childhood Moments That Suddenly Made Sense When I Learned I Was Autistic
The Childhood Moments That Suddenly Made Sense When I Learned I Was AutisticA Reflection On Late Diagnosis
There’s a strange, quiet moment that many Autistic adults describe after discovering they’re Autistic. It isn’t loud. It isn’t dramatic. It’s the sound of memory rearranging itself. Scenes from childhood, once filed under “I was difficult”, “I was broken”, “I was just bad at being human”, start clicking into place. Not because the past changes, but because the story we were told about it finally falls apart. Across Autistic spaces online, blogs, comment threads, group chats, late-night posts written with shaking hands and relief, the same childhood experiences come up again and again. Different lives. Different countries. Same patterns. Here are five of the most common childhood experiences Autistic people say finally made sense once they understood themselves. 1. Feeling Out Of Sync With Everyone ElseMany of us remember childhood as standing slightly to the side of things. Not necessarily lonely, just… misaligned. Other children seemed to know how to enter games, how to shift roles, how to talk without thinking. We didn’t know the rules, and no one had given us the manual. Group play felt like watching a dance where everyone else heard the music. Later, with an Autistic lens, that sense of being a spectator stops being a personal failure and starts looking like a difference in social processing; one that was never explained, only punished or pathologised. 2. Big Reactions That Were Called “Overreactions”Crying over socks. Refusing certain clothes. Melting down over noise, crowds, lights, smells, transitions. These moments are often remembered with shame because they were framed as too much. As adults, many Autistic people look back and realise those weren’t tantrums or drama. They were nervous systems overloaded beyond capacity; with no language, no accommodations, and no protection. The child wasn’t misbehaving. The environment was injuring them. 3. Takin Things Literally; And Getting In Trouble For ItAutistic adults often remember being confused by jokes, sarcasm, metaphors, or vague instructions. “Do it in a minute.” “Behave yourself.” “Use your common sense.” None of these mean what they appear to mean. And when you take words seriously, as many Autistic children do, the world feels unreliable, even dishonest. What was once framed as “not paying attention” or “being awkward” often turns out to be a mind that processes language with precision rather than performance. 4. Repetition, Rituals, And Doing Things The Same WayLining up toys. Sorting objects. Watching the same thing again and again. Needing routines to stay intact. These behaviours were often treated as quirks to be trained out of, or early warning signs to be “corrected”. Later, many Autistic adults recognise them for what they were; regulation. Safety. Predictability in a world that felt loud, fast, and confusing. Not pathology. Self-preservation. 5. A Constant Sense Of Being “Different”; Without Knowing WhyPerhaps the most common reflection is this: “I always knew I was different. I just didn’t know how.” Too intense. Too quiet. Too sensitive. Too blunt. Too weird. Too much. Not enough. Without a framework, difference turns inward and becomes self-blame. With an Autistic understanding, that same difference becomes contextual; shaped by environments that were never built with us in mind. The quiet grief, and the reliefWhat runs through these reflections isn’t just insight. It’s grief. Grief for a child who was misunderstood. Grief for needs that were never named. Grief for the support that could have changed everything. But alongside that grief, there’s something powerful: relief. Relief that you were never broken. Relief that your responses made sense. Relief that there are others who recognise themselves in your memories. Understanding you’re Autistic doesn’t rewrite childhood; but it finally tells the truth about it. And sometimes, that truth is the beginning of self-compassion. This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. You're currently a free subscriber to David Gray-Hammond. For the full experience, upgrade your subscription. © 2026 David Gray-Hammond |
Weakening Natural Carbon Sinks Are a Climate Clarion Call
Natural carbon sinks are weakening, and if they fail, it will trigger runaway climate change from which we will not be able to recover. ͏ ...
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Dear Reader, To read this week's post, click here: https://teachingtenets.wordpress.com/2025/07/02/aphorism-24-take-care-of-your-teach...
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CALL FOR APPLICATIONS: AOM 2025 PDW ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ...

