As a young, environmentally-conscious person, I sit in a dichotomy of hope and despondency regarding the planet’s health and my impact on it. Some days, I feel encouraged by our species’ progress and steps towards conservation; others, I feel overwhelmed and discouraged by the sheer volume of troubles and problems that need solving. However, I work each day to make an impact in my Tennessee community. Amid the chaos and grief of the COVID-19 pandemic, I needed a place to be outside and feel purposeful. I discovered my local community garden by chance, began volunteering there, and found a place of connection and joy. The summer of 2023 marked three years that I’ve volunteered there, and I’ve witnessed the power of a single garden on a community. Each year, volunteers work together to grow thousands of pounds of organic fruits and vegetables and regularly distribute them to organizations in my town that support people facing food insecurity. Increasing people’s access to nutritious, fresh produce provides an invaluable resource to the community. I love being a part of the garden and appreciate the skills and lessons other volunteers teach me, from patience and teamwork to tomato hornworms and optimal soil characteristics. This February, I signed up to help clean up a quarter-mile section of riverbank in the Cumberland River watershed near Nashville. In about two and a half hours, I and around 50 others removed, weighed, and disposed of approximately 3,000 pounds of trash! That experience humbled me to the extent of waste that deteriorates our local rivers and creeks. Yet, I left feeling appreciative of the power of just 50 people volunteering their Saturday afternoon. We live in a world of almost eight billion; our collective power can’t be underestimated. Later that spring, I spent a morning at a “sensory garden” for people who are blind or have other disabilities. The volunteer team I was a part of worked to get the garden set for the coming year, with lots of weeding, tree-clearing, trimming, planting, and painting. I love finding local volunteer opportunities because they show me parts of my community I may have never otherwise seen or explored. Before that morning, the beautiful garden was just a sign on the side of the road to me. Now, I can picture it and know I helped promote its future longevity! When I’m out walking or spending time outdoors, I pick up trash I find along the way, tuck the wrappers, plastic, and paper into my pockets, and put the litter in a trash can. Since my local recycling pickup does not accept glass, I collect my family’s and my glassware and take it to a recycling center that processes glass; those items would otherwise sit for generations in a landfill. By channeling my lifetime passions for nature, reading, science, animals, exploration, and adventure, I discovered the field of ecological science, where I can blend my joys and interests into a degree and a future career. In 2024, I will transfer from my local community college to a 4-year university where I can complete this degree and dedicate my future to nurturing our planet. There, I'll gain knowledge and skills on critical subjects like effective research, ecosystem relationships, and insights on specific species. In my ecology career, I hope to conduct field research on ecosystem relationships and provide insights on ways to protect these delicate, ever-shifting communities. I’d also love to educate the public on contributing to their local communities' ecological health and hopefully harness humanity’s collective power to protect and care for our precious home planet.

“THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT IS ENDING.” “DESTRUCTIVE WILDFIRES THREATEN CRITCAL RAINFORESTS.” “UNPRECEDENTED STORMS DESTORY TOWN.” "INCREASE IN LOCAL CRIME THREATENS COMMUNITY'S SAFETY." The quotes above are just examples of what some typical news headlines might look like in today's average newspaper. Rapid climate change, human suffering, wars, diseases, and crime all remain a direct or indirect part of our daily lives. As I read each day's news headlines, I struggle to “unsee” things highlighted in those stories and the environmental crises, lack of justice, cruelty, and suffering surrounding us. My inspiration to help grew from that struggle to "unsee." Because I think about these issues often, I cannot imagine not doing anything. I grieve the pain that so many people face due to these large-scale issues, but I try not to let my sadness consume me and prevent me from actively seeking solutions and helping. While balancing school and work, I try to find small ways to jump in and help create change in my Tennessee community. Amid the COVID-19 pandemic, I needed a place to be outside and feel purposeful. I discovered my local community garden and began volunteering there. This summer will mark my third year at the garden, and I’ve witnessed the power of a single garden on a community. We grow organic food and distribute it to people in my town that struggle with food insecurity. Unfortunately, access to organic food is a privilege only some can afford, so increasing the availability of nutritious, fresh vegetables provides an invaluable resource to the community. This February, I signed up to help clean up a quarter-mile section of riverbank in the Cumberland River watershed near Nashville. In about two and a half hours, I and around 50 others removed, weighed, and disposed of approximately 3,000 pounds of trash! That experience humbled me to the extent of waste that deteriorates our rivers and creeks. I left feeling satisfied and appreciative of the power of just 50 people volunteering their Saturday afternoon. Two months later, I spent a morning at a “sensory garden” for people with visual impairments (or other disabilities). The volunteer team I was a part of worked to get the garden set for the coming year, with lots of weeding, tree-clearing, trimming, planting, and painting. I love finding local volunteer opportunities as they show me parts of my community I would have never seen or explored. Before that morning, the beautiful garden was just a sign on the side of the road; now, I know I contributed toward its mission and explored a new area in town. I recognize that picking up trash and gardening won’t solve humanity’s problems. However, I hope that through small actions that support the health, dignity, and lives of Earth’s many human and non-human inhabitants, I help facilitate small changes which may lead to larger ones. If one river section is clean, one family gets fresh tomatoes, and one kid gets to spend time in a garden, it’s worth it — perhaps they'll do one small thing, too, continuing the cycle of positive change.

From a young age, I was the kid who was always perched on or in something, from trees to fences to boulders. I felt peaceful in high spots, tucked away from the bustling ground, and I could watch, silent and still, as people and animals passed below. In my nooks and perches, things seemed to slow down. My world became a single tree, rock, or ledge; I usually examined the mosses, insects, leaves, and rock patterns around me and traced my hands over the rough bark or hard stone. When I was ten, I completed a two-month class at my local climbing gym and loved it, leaving each class exhilarated and smiling. However, as I grew older, my budding soccer career became increasingly serious, and I had to put climbing aside as I pursued soccer more intensely. At fifteen, my physical and mental health rapidly plummeted, and my soccer aspirations came to an abrupt, heartbreaking end. I spent two months in the hospital that winter, and after stabilizing and making progress, I knew I needed a new outlet since soccer was no longer an option. My dad took me to a climbing gym one weekend, and, just like at ten, I immediately gravitated toward it. Within a month, my dad and I got a climbing gym membership and began climbing together a few times a week, and I immersed myself in this new activity. After being so ill, it was remarkable how quickly my body grew strong again. Within my first two months, I sent a 5.10 indoors; by five months, I was climbing 5.11 and V4-5 indoors. I loved the climbing community at my gym and joined their youth recreational team. That winter, a year after my hospitalization, I projected 5.12- and V6 in my gym. My world felt stable, but the memory of my illness still haunted me. Tragically, just as the pandemic began, my health spiraled downwards again, and I ended up back in the hospital. Since then, my health has been up and down, and with the COVID-19 pandemic closing gyms down, I haven't found my new rhythm with rock climbing yet. However, I look forward to returning to it, as being on a wall gives me solace and excitement that's hard to replicate. Along the way, I've climbed a few mountains, my highest two being Colorado's Centennial Peak and Elliott Mountain, 13,062 and 12,348 feet above sea level, respectively. I've also remained a dedicated tree climber. In the future, I hope to find a group of climbers and get into outdoor rock climbing. I also dream of thru-hiking the Pacific Crest Trail and backpacking more; today, I take advantage of every opportunity to spend time outside. As I climb out of the caverns of my illness, I attempt to look toward the light ahead and the educational and outdoor adventures I'll embark on. This scholarship will help me pursue a career in stewarding natural spaces, which climbers and outdoor recreators (and the general public) rely on. As a participant and user of public land, I feel compelled to give back to these places, specifically the longstanding living residents. I plan to use my ecology degree to research, observe, educate the public, and solve problems. By working to protect mountains, wilderness, oceans, deserts, and other ecosystems, my career will return me to my origin as a small piece of this ecological masterpiece and help preserve its wholeness and health for future generations.

I've always held a love for shorts and pants with deep pockets. Pockets allow me to carry so many things around while my hands remain empty; I can hold a phone, some loose change, my keys, and other daily items without toting around a dreaded purse. However, in the past year, I've used my pocketed clothing to collect small pieces of litter I find outside. My dad once remarked that you don't see trash lying around until you start looking, but once your lens for litter activates, it's difficult to turn off. I see trash everywhere; candy wrappers, plastic film, paper, water bottles, wipes, and old receipts, even in well-maintained neighborhoods. On a short walk, I can quickly fill a pocket with litter and put it in a garbage bin - taking less than five extra minutes. On a larger scale, I recently participated in a river cleanup near my home in the Nashville area. In three hours, our team of about 50 people removed over 3,000 pounds of trash in a quarter-mile stretch of the riverbank. Regarding sustainability, I create tiny changes in all the ways I can. Each day looks slightly different, but the most straightforward shifts often create significant differences. For example, as a student, I pack a lot of lunches to go, so I invested in reusable containers and a cloth sandwich bag so I don't rely on disposable bags. I use canvas shopping bags when grocery shopping and forgo a bag when buying something small. I also purchase some secondhand clothing, as that reduces both clothing waste and the demand for new materials. I use cold water in the washing machine, which takes less energy than heated water. In the colder months, I lower the thermostat in my apartment when I leave for work so it doesn't run in an empty house. I learned driving strategies to increase gas mileage and limit my trips by combining activities or errands. I also volunteer at a local community garden that grows sustainable, organic food and distributes it to people facing food insecurity in my town. The garden also collects and distributes excess produce from our local farmers' market, reducing food waste. Through volunteering there, I continue learning more about sustainable agriculture, and I love digging in the rich soil and seeing crops change from tiny seeds to beautiful vegetables. I believe in reducing my carbon footprint simply because I am a guest on this beautiful Earth, not a conqueror. For its entire history, Earth's climate has undergone massive changes, some ultimately catastrophic, so I also remain aware that humans don't have complete control despite efforts to improve our planet's health. I conceptualize this concept as "improving today, and maybe tomorrow too." By picking up trash today, I remove garbage that would otherwise continue to disrupt and harm the area it previously littered. By tending plants and growing healthy, organic food today, people in need enjoy a nutritious meal. By wearing my secondhand t-shirt, I keep a wearable garment out of a landfill. Ultimately, I do everything possible and accept that my single organism can't radically shift my home planet. However, I can care for my home where I am, in my little ways, and as I stroll down the sidewalk in my pocketed pants, I use my "litter lens" to restore micro-areas, filling my pockets and celebrating along the way.

In December 2017, I watched from 2000 miles away as my childhood town of Ventura, California, ignited in flames, destroying homes, hillsides, and livelihoods. My grandparents took photos of the blaze from their driveways, and some of my friends had to prepare to evacuate. The fire damage to the surrounding land remains a stark reminder of the power of an uncontrolled wildfire. Yet, despite the extensive damage, the Thomas Fire is mostly forgotten. Certainly, wildfires provide benefits to the land – when in balance. However, wildfires, among other natural disasters, appear to be increasing. Our “new normal” is, in fact, not normal at all; rather, I believe we are normalizing the abnormality of rapid climate change. I’ve always had a passion for nature; as a child, I spent hours outside, exploring and playing while learning more about Earth’s rhythms, wonders, and endless curiosities. The Pacific Ocean lay just five miles from my house, providing a living playground and classroom. Being young, I believed my beloved ocean would continually remain healthy and intact. Now, I know that although oceans, land, and living organisms are incredibly resilient, they can’t keep accommodating humanity’s incessant taking and exploiting. After discovering my love of biology in 9th grade, I knew I wanted to pursue a degree in biological sciences. After researching, contemplating, and dreaming, I came upon ecology, the study of natural systems, plants, and animals and how they interact, support, and sometimes hinder one another. As seen through the Thomas Fire, other wildfires, algae blooms, species decline or overgrowth, droughts, famines, mudslides, and ocean disturbances, the Earth is not well. By diving deeply into the study of these systems, I hope to find ways to help Earth regain her natural rhythms and accommodate for the ones that are beyond repair. I also aspire to obtain valuable, understandable data that can help provide evidence for the need to increase the protection of wilderness, public land, watersheds, and endangered species. Attempting to tackle the complex issue of climate change and its adverse effects tends to leave the individual feeling overwhelmed and stuck. I remind myself and encourage family and friends to remember that although no single organism can radically shift the issue, every small action matters. We must work collectively and cooperatively to slowly restore our planet. Some simple, attainable changes include wearing a sweater instead of turning the thermostat up a degree, enrolling in your city’s recycling program, and getting reusable food containers for packed lunches. Purchasing secondhand clothing helps reduce the need to produce more new clothing, and planting plants that attract pollinators provides those species a haven in the increasingly inhospitable modern world. Our seemingly small daily choices either increase or decrease our individual carbon footprint. You are right if you believe keeping your house a degree cooler in the winter or walking half a mile to the store are minuscule actions. However, if you think they don’t matter, you are wrong— individual choices accumulate in a world of 7.8 billion people. If several billion people kept their homes a degree cooler in the winter or took a short walk to the store, those collective actions would quickly accumulate, stimulating extensive changes we aren’t capable of alone. Like any natural system, we depend on one another for survival. Although our present reality feels artificial and distanced from our origins in water and soil, we remain more connected than we imagine. By drawing on our innate connection to Earth and combining it with modern technology, I believe we can facilitate the rehabilitation and reformation of our precious, solitary home.

I intend to immerse myself in the scientific study of our chaotic, stunning, humbling, and abundant planet and the multidisciplinary protection of the diverse organisms depending on Earth's continued health and vitality.

When most people consider social issues, complex, distressing topics such as systemic violence, global warming, technology overuse, and discrimination often surface. These are all significant issues that impact our daily lives and leave many feeling unsure of how to tackle them. Unfortunately, I don't usually have an opportunity to create large-scale change in my everyday life, but I encounter a common issue every time I visit a public place - we often fail to recognize the countless people working to keep our public areas clean, safe, and open. These people constantly surround us, from the woman at the cash register, the young man mopping the bathroom floor, the crossing guards, the trash truck driver, and even schoolteachers. All of these people have lives, stories, thoughts, feelings, and people they love; yet in our rush to check out or our frustration at the "closed for cleaning" sign on the bathroom, we can inadvertently direct our anger, frustration, or annoyance at these people - if we acknowledge them at all. When my parents were young adults, they learned from someone the importance of looking for people that we could easily pass by and forget about in our daily bustle and busyness. As I grew up, they reflected and modeled the importance of recognizing and thanking these workers for what they do. However, I didn't fully understand how it felt to be on the other end of this before I began working in retail. At a register, I check out countless people on an eight-hour shift, and when someone uses my name and thanks me, I feel grateful and recognized for my work. Now, when I go shopping, I always try to thank the cashier and use their name. If I'm walking and see a group of gardeners, I wave and say hello. Simply making eye contact and thanking someone can make a difference in their day and make them feel seen and appreciated. Loneliness is a huge social issue encompassing so many others. Although I can't fully understand the true magnitude of working a minimum wage, full-time job, I can imagine that showing up to work daily and receiving little or no thanks or recognition would feel lonely. If you are known as "the custodian," "the cleaning lady," or even "the school librarian," you remain, in part, anonymous and invisible. People deserve to be seen, appreciated, and thanked; while I can't solve humanity's loneliness, I can pause, look the worker in the eye, glance at their name tag, and say, "Thanks, ____." At that moment, someone, somewhere, was seen. Someone felt a bit less alone for an instant. Imagine the snapshots of human connection we could collect if we all did this simple act and the collective light we'd exude if we all felt more seen and valued in our daily lives.