As the daylight increases, the warming Earth is bringing forth early spring flowers. Purple and white crocuses, pale blue periwinkle, golden yellow and eggshell white Daffodils, and lemony Forsythia are providing beauty in the midst of the still cold and dark season. While the human world is in the throes of an unforeseen and all-engulfing crisis, the Earth continues the annual cycle of seasonal life, untouched by the worries of the human world.

For decades, people in the circles I’ve traveled in have mentioned the inevitability of a new pandemic, worrying that the widespread use of antibiotics would evolve a superbug, untreatable by current medical knowledge. Others, unimpressed by claims that the human world had conquered the Earth and made it bow to the human god, worried that history’s lesson that plagues arise without warning would be ignored because of the widespread belief that humanity had overcome the challenges of all-encompassing Earth.

Coming into the local foods movement decades after it had taken a foothold in my community, I quickly became aware that it was preparing for times when our international supply of luxurious foods would be interrupted. Most people in my community, confident in the intricate vulnerability of industrial abundance, never consider if the food we consume is from the neighboring county or another hemisphere. As long as the complex and narrow supply chains bringing fruit from Chile or Hawaii and olive oil from Italy remain intact, the source is unimportant.

When I was drawn into the local food movement by high gasoline prices in 2008, I quickly learned how vulnerable my community was. Activists working towards sustainability and resiliency pointed out that our stores only had a supply of three days of food on the shelves and that our county’s food production could not feed our population. We were, in our ignorance, vulnerable to any crisis that would interrupt these world-wide supply chains providing an abundance of foods to our privileged communities. Among the many threats to our delicately maintained abundance, the likelihood of a pandemic was commonly discussed in the local food movement.

As the United States woke to a world-wide crisis that had dominated the world press for weeks, I found myself waking up as if from a deep sleep to the cause that had taken over my life more than a decade before. The food club we had developed over the last ten years and my hobby of gardening had brought me into the local and bulk food movements in my community, preparing me for the challenge we are currently facing.

One announcement followed another revealing that our sleepy ignorance had left our society unprepared for the rapidly increasing crisis. One after another organization announced changes or cancellations. The university I work at raced to implement plans for an all-online and remote coursework, community groups, ranging from spiritual to self-help to entertainment to restaurants announced closures. My own family cancelled plans for a family reunion meal.

Meeting with another local activist on our food club, I was reminded of the value of the networks the club had developed in our community. I realized that while the rest of the community was shutting down, we had the opportunity to help. I called our bulk food supplier the next day and asked him if their supply chains had been disrupted.

“No yet,” he replied, “But we are expecting them to be.”

Later that day I sent out an email to our club, letting members know that local food activists had been preparing for situations like these. This was followed quickly by order forms for rice, flour, sugar, cooking oils and other staples that my area cannot produce our own. Within three days, there were orders for as twice as much as we normally order in two months.

For our own resources, my wife and I made several trips to grocers, supplementing our stores of food from local sources and choosing a balanced selection of foods to deal with a long-term interruption of our supply chains. Following discussions with local food activists, I selected products that are from distant sources that are likely to become costly or scarce.

I’ve watched as top leadership have shifted from denial to sudden recognition that a devastating wave of death may soon engulf us. As dire predictions mount, I’ve reflected on what has been the carefully maintained denial by many in the United States. It is easy to believe what I wish if I avoid contradictory facts. If it served me, I could say that Moscow does not exist and unless I am taken there against my will I can reject any evidence as deception. On the other hand, I cannot act on the belief that I do not need food or water. Physical need cuts through denial.

For over a generation, most people living in the United States have not faced physical hardships that challenge cherished beliefs, leading to a culture out of touch with the essentials of life. The physical reality of a pandemics and living through waves of deaths are likely to break through these delusional walls in the same way that a decade ago losses in war and an economic downturn caused the last Republican president and his family to lose political power-over-others.

The covenant of bad works, which allows leaders to temporarily—and only temporarily—escape from natural justice, breeds incompetence, cruelty and narcissism. As a result, crises erupt as slowly evolving consequences created by the Earth and humanity respond to the quick, short-lived force of power-over. The suffering this causes breaks people out of their shells of denial and they reject the delusions they had about their hero, finally seeing that the emperor has no clothes.

Considering the likely political outcome of this crisis, I thought of a simple “equation”: Trump = W. The two individuals are twin tips of an iceberg of the same large hierarchy of white violent men, money-chasers and puritans. Hierarchies like these dominate the societies of most nations, living out the same story retold over the millennia of patriarchies: They ruthlessly gain power-over others, bring about suffering and injustice while ignoring real challenges until a crisis cause them to fall unexpectedly. It is a story of the larger human world that is witnessed, recounted, ignored and witnessed again. But it is not an indictment of a few very power-overful men; it is a measure by which money-chasers, violent men and puritans blame problems on the leaders they choose, rather than the lifestyle and goals that cause them to choose those leaders.

While the crisis in the larger human world grew, in our small and unimportant lives my wife and I sowed our garden under dark skies, as we have during spring for over a decade. Turning over the soil, adding compost and manure, and planting lettuces, arugula, mustard, spinach, kale, beets, carrots, turnips, onions and peas, we quietly took part in the cycle of life and renewal. The feel of cool, wet soil on my hands as we planted precious food gave me comfort and joy. While the human world careens into chaos and crisis, the simple acts of bringing forth life give both our bodies and our spirits strength. The hardships of the mortal world bring on threats and worries, but being embedded in the Earthly river of life gives practical meaning to each and every day. In two months our garden will be providing us life-giving food each day—a precious gift of the Earthly flow of life into eternity.