Begin to Grow Your Communities of Care (and Move Beyond Climate Fear)

Across so many aspects of my life, it’s been a journey over the years to learn, grow and participate in a way that feels healthy and enriching to my life and doesn't drain my energy. With anti-racism, for example, I don’t have the choice of opting out. It’s a life’s work to navigate racism, set boundaries around media consumption relating to it, and lean into the people and places where I feel safe to have the conversations that need to take place for healing to emerge.

But climate change can feel unnavigable.

My pattern with climate action is to deeply feel the weight and urgency, to go all-in for a few months… and burn myself out. And I know I’m not the only one.

 

Large pink flowers with dark green leaves

 

But this cycle serves no-one. It creates maybe a couple of peaks – seasons where I feel engaged and aligned – but it isn’t sustainable long-term. For me, in the periods of inaction in-between, it takes too long to recover, to re-set, to recharge and get going again. I dive into distraction… and this works really, really well until I glance at the news stand and see images of inferno, or the flood warnings get a little too close to home, or a relative in eastern Africa talks about 50 degree days. Or I’m sitting in a room trying to explain to my kiddo why we can’t go outside today, why the air feels like a wall of heat.

What a strange luxury that is. To be able to live the in-between times in wilful ignorance and inaction, avoiding the elephant on fire in the room.

 

Lush green leaves form a canopy, with sunlight above

 

In the in-between periods, I used to avoid thinking about climate change because my mind couldn’t handle the vastness of it. My brain would veer towards wanting to know the worst-case scenario… but it wouldn’t move any further. I’d get bogged down in the catastrophe and the tragedy and the loss of it all.

Does that land with you? That feeling of doing nothing because you have no idea where to begin to make a tangible difference? Because you’ve tried and it didn’t work? Because you don’t have people around you lifting you up and working towards a common vision? Because you don’t have space to have the conversations you need to have to process the enormity and interconnectedness of what is happening? Because right now, in this moment, you feel comfortable enough and safe enough? Because that word, change, sometimes feels so very very far away?

 

So, what do we do?

For me, the question now becomes: how do I bring the same intention, energy, self-compassion, and boundaries (that I hone everyday as I navigate racism) to the process of navigating the realities of environmental devastation?

How do I do it in a way that avoids burning out and getting jaded?

Like everything, for me, it begins with intention. Saying it out loud. Not feeling like you have to try to do everything alone. Getting braver. Reaching across to those people you already feel an affinity with and drawing them closer, finding ways to create a culture of care for each other and for our collective earth.

 

Person wearing Converse and socks, with delicate flowers (pink carnation and white gypsophilia) stuck into their sock.

 

Here’s what I choose. 

Now, I choose to turn my focus towards all that is possible. Towards what’s on the other side of this precipice and how we’re going to navigate it together. Towards regeneration. Towards community and all the different shapes that word can take.

I choose conversations that include intersectional voices and join the dots across issues.

I choose projects that are rooted in my local neighbourhood and this beautiful country I call home, and I choose to visualise what is possible if we each take care of our corner.

I choose restorative practices that soothe and heal our bodies, our earth, our neighbourhoods – knowing that they are all connected in this work.

I choose to nurture those relationships where we can hold space for the anxiety and the grief AND for the celebration and the joys.

I choose relearning how to live in a respectful relationship with nature.

I choose to keep connected to the truth that none of this is inevitable, that another future is possible.

I choose to keep connected to the people who know the same.

I choose to focus.

I choose to use my skills and experience to hold space for others to do all of the above, too.

 

Everyday Writes logo: forest green circle with gold wavy line

 

If your pattern, like mine, is to sink into burnout, inaction, distraction or avoidance, I invite you to check out these books

I found all available at Lighthouse Bookshop, where you can order online - click on each cover below to read more about each book. This isn't an affiliated post, I just wanted to make it a bit easier for you to find them!

Are there any titles that sing to you?

 

"How We Show Up" book cover

 

"All We Can Save" book cover

 

 

"The Memory We Could Be" book cover

 

 

"The Future We Choose" book cover

 

 

"Do / Earth" book cover

 

 

"The Future Earth" book cover

 

 

"A Bigger Picture" book cover

 

 

"A Field Guide to Climate Anxiety" book cover

 

 

"Consumed" book cover

 

 

"How to Talk About Climate Change" book cover

 

 

The biggest takeaway for me when it comes to moving beyond climate anxiety? Decide where you can focus your energy in the most sustainable way for you. And then to reach out and find the people who will keep you going...

 

P.S. If this has inspired you and you’re looking for a place to begin to meet people, check out this month's online Events. Or if you're looking for one-to-one support wherever you are in the world, let's talk - you can book your free Connection Call here xx Nadia