Dr. Jane greeted by Univu and Haru Xyna Kuntanawa, Amazonian Tribal Leaders
April 3, 2026 is the first ever
Dr. Jane Goodall Day. In honor of her vision for a better world, I’d like to share with you the few moments when my husband and I were blessed to spend a bit of time with her.
We met Dr. Jane on top of the world. Literally. She had come to Greenland to join a gathering of indigenous elders from around the world to take part in a ceremony celebrating the fulfilment
of an ancient Kalaallit prophecy, one that embodies the spiritual meaning of climate change:
“The Ancient Ones say, that one day, when the world needs it most, the Sacred Fire will come home to the people at the Top of the World. It is the time when the trees will stand up again [and] we will be able to ignite a fire with wood from Mother Earth [instead of oil from the animal world, the seal, the whale [ … ] The seasons will be no more. And when you ask ‘What will be? they say, ‘No one knows.’ Only by melting the ice in the heart of man, will man have the chance to change and use his knowledge wisely.”
Dr. Jane camped for days on the tundra at the foot of the Russell Glacier outside Kangerlussuaq with everyone present for the ceremony, far from a warm hotel bed and indoor plumbing.
She helped gather branches from bushes that had begun to grow after millennia of having been frozen under the ice, branches that would kindle the sacred fire it was meant to celebrate.
When it was her turn to speak, booming slabs of ice calving from the glacier’s melting wall punctuated her words,
“To have the privilege of taking part in this ceremony and of speaking to the native people and tribal Elders here, is an exceptional honor and fills me with great optimism and strength. I believe that this is a time of intense spiritual development. One that applies almost exclusively to co-existence among human beings and the way we treat nature and other living beings [ … ]
“Let us learn from the cultures of ancient indigenous peoples. For example—if they kill an animal to eat, they ask for permission first. They honor it, pray for its soul and explain to the animal that it will live on in them, in the cycle of life—that there was a purpose to its life. Animals have no language, so they need someone who will make their voices heard. But as long as we lock them up in factory farms, we are refusing them a life in harmony with their nature. That food of this kind makes us ill should come as no surprise at all.”
Heads nodded. Voices agreed in various languages.
“We are the only beings who can change these things. Our daily actions have effects on our environment and our society. We decide what products we buy. We decide the quality of the world we live in—every single one of us. Let us act! We’ve already waited far too long.”
A few days later, we flew to Illulisaat, iceberg capital of the world. Dr. Jane occupied the youngest member of the group that would later that week establish
The Greenprint Foundation
a new initiative to bring rigorous measurement and accountability to the carbon performance of the built environment. In the stillness of the Arctic tundra, surrounded by indigenous elders carrying millennia of ecological wisdom, the official beginning of Greenprint was founded by my husband. Dr. Jane’s words about learning from ancient peoples — honoring what sustains life, measuring what truly matters — felt less like inspiration and more like instruction.
After an afternoon on the bay
and a dinner to celebrate our successes
a small group gathered in our hotel room. Sitting on the floor, back resting up against the wall, her nightcap in hand, Dr. Jane told a touching story about how a young boy once asked her, “Where do you think people go when they die?” The child had lost his mother at a young age. Dr. Jane shared her belief that our loved ones are always watching over us.
“You mean, she might be sitting in that chair?” he asked, pointing across the hotel lobby. “Or up there, on the balcony?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Could my mother be sitting on a cloud, looking down at me?” he continued.
“But of course!”
“I like that,” said the boy.
Since then, no matter where Dr. Jane was in the world, at the end of each day, she’d raise a glass – usually her favorite scotch – in honor of those who had blessed her life and had crossed over. That night, as the midnight sun bathed icebergs in orange, pink, and purple hues, she invited us to join her. Glasses clinked. Eyes looked to the wood-beamed ceiling. And a resounding “To the clouds!” filled the room.
Today, I invite you to join me in a toast.
“Here’s to you Dr. Jane! To the clouds!”
Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner 