by
Katrina Townsend
It’s easy to feel anxious and disheartened in this era of climate change. Like many people, I often find that I can’t sleep at night as my mind fixates on mass extinctions, rising sea levels, food shortages, energy costs, and all the other fears and worries of this tenuous time – this decade, the liminal space between our abundant past and our uncertain future.
After years of battling with my own eco-anxiety, much to my surprise, I found wonder and enchantment waiting for me on my own back doorstep – when I learned how to see it. Not only did this new way of seeing help ground and refresh me when I was struggling and at a loss, it also helped me to rebuild a life that better reflected my values.
Get your hands dirty
Or your feet, if you like. Feel the air on your face and the sunlight on your eyelids. Remember that you are a small human on a big planet – a single thread in a huge and intricate web.
When I’m at my lowest ebb, a short walk or a stolen moment in the garden can give me a chance to come back to myself. Perhaps you’re the sort of person who knows what phase the moon is in, but when did you last take time to watch the sunset? Or to sit in your garden (or at a window), and watch the wildlife come and go? I like to start the day in this way (with a coat over my dressing gown and a hot drink, if necessary), and I always feel more vibrant after a few minutes noticing the mood of the sky.
Eat really local
The usual exhortation is to grow your own food, which I absolutely agree with – should you have the time, space, and inclination. I love to eat local foods, whether purchased or grown – of course, they have a minimal carbon footprint compared to asparagus from Peru or apples waxed in South Africa, but I also like the idea that I’m becoming more a part of my landscape, and vice versa.
Buy less
In spiritual circles, we don’t tend to talk much about money. But when I started writing down my daily spends, I had to acknowledge where mine actually went, and how much of it was frittered on takeaways, clothes, cosmetics and other ‘treats’. I’m not suggesting you become monastic, but I can say from my own experience that it’s extremely freeing (albeit surprisingly difficult) to step away from the consumer carousel, even for a while, and enjoy simply having enough.
Stand up for the Earth
Direct action isn’t for everyone, but a relationship with nature is far more rewarding when it’s a two-way street. Whether you pick up litter from your local woodland, plant wildflowers for pollinators, write to your MP on environmental issues, volunteer for a relevant organisation or take to the streets in protest, it’s vital not to sit on the sidelines.
Slow down
You don’t have to see every new post or read every book or visit every cafe or make every recipe or go to every party or check every notification. When it’s all too much, let some of it go. Re-read an old favourite, take a break from Instagram, and resist the urge to constantly be productive.
Make your magic
You can buy just about anything nowadays, but a lot of what makes life wondrous – and, indeed, magical – doesn’t come from an online shop or in a pre-packaged starter kit. Resist the commodification of spirituality. For me, a lot of the meaning behind what we do is lost when we don’t take the time to make, to forage, to grow, to adapt (and occasionally, to bodge). Many modern spirituality books encourage you to purchase a dozen ingredients for a spell or to present the cosmos with your Amazon wishlist, but I think that the way forward is to go back to basics, start with what we have or can make, and relearn how to craft.
Build community
I don’t just mean in the people sense, although close-knit neighbours who can share and aid each other are definitely something to aim for as the climate crisis looms. But for a very long time I was prone to overlooking my own locale when in search of the sacred, which is deeply silly really, when every landscape is made up of layers of history, insects, mycelium, plants, animals, birds, stories, folk customs, language, culture and genii locorum. Getting to really know and understand my local area and its inhabitants on as many levels as I can is, frankly, a lifetime’s work, but to even scratch the surface imbues me with a deep sense of relatedness and helps me feel rooted.
No one can be perfectly ‘green’, and getting in touch with nature can seem daunting when we are labouring under the weight of eco-anxiety, climate grief, or simple disconnection. Yet to reconnect with the Earth, to make the green world once again the heart of our spirituality, is both a powerful statement of solidarity and hope, and a homecoming, which I believe we as a society – as a community – sorely need.
Read the full article in our March/April 2023 issue.
Katrina Townsend is the author of The Anti-Consumerist Druid: How I Beat My Shopping Addiction Through Connection With Nature (£12.99, Moon Books).
katrinaconsumed.blogspot.com
