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The end is inevitable. I know all too well what a terrifying thought that can be, whether we鈥檙e discussing the possible end of a marriage, the eventual end of the world, or the unavoidable end of our individual lives.

We inherently know that all things must come to an end, but facing that reality can stop us in our tracks, strip us of our sense of control. Believe me, the goal of this issue isn鈥檛 to send you, our dear readers, into a tailspin. Instead, as always, we鈥檙e taking a hopeful approach to our 鈥淓ndings鈥� issue. 

Think about it this way: If all things must eventually end, then it might benefit us to prepare rather than succumb to fear. This issue aims to aid in that acceptance of what we know is coming. Instead of considering endings as something only to be mourned, we can view them as an opportunity to usher in new beginnings. Take, for instance, Jenn M. Jackson鈥檚 op-ed about ditching monogamy for a broader kinship network or Amanda Gokee鈥檚 powerful feature about how returning the land national parks sit on to Indigenous tribes would benefit us all. What becomes clear is that endings can be openings for the compassionate, equitable world we desire to create.

Our cover, shot by conceptual and portrait photographer Arjuna Asa, is designed to convey this idea. After losing both of his grandmothers in a single year, Asa created 鈥淏eyond Grief,鈥� a photo project that reconsiders our relationship to death and loss. From the dirt of death, flowers blossom鈥攁 reminder that new beginnings are always on the horizon. That idea carries throughout this issue, in stories about what it would look like to divorce ourselves from the American Dream and ambition, upending the idea of wealth as we know it, and the lessons we can learn from climate fiction authors. 

There鈥檚 no better time for this issue: We鈥檝e watched the United States and Brazil endure and survive attempted insurrections. We鈥檙e approaching an economic recession at the same time that the wealthiest among us accrue more resources. Our climate is in danger and there鈥檚 no telling when we鈥檒l experience the next mass shooting. And yet, the world we鈥檝e imagined is still possible. Through all of the angst, fear, anger, sadness, and hopelessness, we鈥檙e still here鈥攁nd we鈥檙e still striving to present solutions that remind us that all is not lost. 

The end is coming, sure, but as long as there is breath in our lungs, there鈥檚 a possibility to usher in better for ourselves and our communities. If we can鈥檛 hold onto anything else, let this issue encourage you to hold onto that hope, breathe it in, and believe it. 

Be well,
Evette Dionne
YES! Executive Editor