Today, I tell you my climate story and I teach you how to tell yours. If you feel overwhelmed with climate action or if you are confused on where to start in your climate journey, this episode if for you!
Owning and telling your climate story is one of the most impactful things you can do to start combating climate change. Once you own your story, the dark and the light parts of it, then you will then no longer be defined by it. You may begin making different choices. You may change your relationship with the planet. You may inspire others to do the same.
Owning your climate story is not about judgment or shame, it is about honesty. I recommend you approach this exercise with a lot of self-love, compassion, non-judgment, responsibility, and truth.
I was born in the territory of the Očhéthi Šakówiŋ, the land of the people of the seven council fires. When I was born, on a cold January morning, there was 346 parts per million of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. In my lifetime, I have seen this increase by over 17%.
I grew up on the stolen land of the Wailaki, Cahto, and Northern Pomo. I became a doctor on the lands of the Munsee Lenape first nation.
These lands that I list, have given me so much. They have given me my creativity, my imagination, my hope.They gave me joy with a most beloved sister.They helped ground me, when I felt lost in a city if millions, or alone by myself.These lands have helped me learn about myself and the world. They have soaked up my tears and echoed my laughs.
This is my climate story.
So, me and my little sister grew up in the sticks. I know I have kind of talked about this before. We grew up off the grid; we pooped outside, had no electricity, slept in an old army tent like 7 years. You know, just like a normal, average upbringing….
Do you remember as kid, we collected stuff? I guess this is a human thing, not just a kid thing.
Anyways, while our friends around us were collecting Bennie Babies, NOW CDs, and Jordan’s, we didn’t really have that option. We just were not consuming pop culture, and our parents would straight up not buy us that.
So I opted out. I never really collected anything. It didn’t interest me.
I was more into reading my book, I guess that is a form of collection, playing sports, and trying to be cool, blend in. Lol, jokes on me.
But my sister did.
The part of me that still wants to be normal wants to tell you she collected spice girl stickers.
But nope. We were hippies. So…. She collected weird things. One of the things she collected was pressed lizards.
I shit you not.
As a kid, she was really into the life to death process. And we were straight up not allowed to buy anything, so our options were pretty limited.She chose lizards.The best part of this story is that even now I get to tease her about this.
Now, it wasn’t like she was going and catching lizards and squashing them, drying them out.But we lived on this dirt roadWhen we were kids, there were so many reptiles around, blue belly lizards would get run over by cars all the time. Their poor squashed little bodies would dry out on the road, and then we would find them when we were playing.
Omg, Are we lizard people… maybe…. jury might be out on that still…
But all jokes aside, this story reflects an experience that no longer exists. Now, when you drive down that same dirt road, you don’t see lizards. You definitely cannot do a weird macabre taxidermy thing with them.They are gone.
This is my climate story
For me and my sister, the stories of our childhood playing in the woods and streams can no longer be reflected back to us. And it is not just the lizards.
Growing up outside of a small town, driving from the town to our house, our tent, would take you about 25 minutes if you drive really fast. But if you drove at night, it would take double the time. Because of the jack rabbits. Those MOFOs!
Let me tell you, Jack rabbits are road hogs. They are active at dusk and into the night and are all over country roads in Northern CA.
You would think, they would see a car, get scared, and run away. And they do that! They do that. The problem is.. they use the light from your headlights to guide them on where they are running to. So they are perpetually running in the middle of the road, away from your car.
If you try and swerve around them, they swerve with you.If you try and slow down, they slow down.Try and speed up, they are running faster. Their goal is to forever be in the center cone of your headlights.This can get pretty freakin annoying on 5 miles of dirt road.
In case your curious, the way to pass a jackrabbit on a dirt road, it to actually turn your headlights off,
drive by the light of the moon, and slowly creep by them. In my opinion, both human and jackrabbit survival strategies kinda suck.
When we were kids, there were so many Jack Rabbits around, you would see 3-5 a night. At every turn, every meadow, there would be another one. Like an annoying Jack-in-the-box, just popping out and teaching patience.
I have lived back home for 2 years now. I haven’t seen a jack rabbit once in this time. They are gone.
Same story goes for the eels.
I didn’t learn to swim in a pool, not surprising, I learned to swim in a river. The 10-mile. When we were kids, 10-mile stream stayed pretty cold late in the year, with snowmelt running into it even in June.
The stream held some pretty deep pools, but it was shallow enough for us to be dropped off by ourselves without our parents worrying we would drown.
We knew all the places to find the blue clay. Covering ourselves from our hair all the way to our toes, we would spend hours baking in the sun, catching frogs and polliwogs. We lived pretty ideal summers.But there was a creep factor. There were eels in the streams. The moray eel to be exact.
They didn’t hurt us, bite or sting. They were probably more scared of us then us of them. They would shy away and hide from us under rocks and in the deeper pools. But every once in a while, you would step on one. Feel that squish under your foot. I couldn’t eat unagi for years because of my memory of my foot squishing eel in the river.
Now, there are no more eels in Mendocino County. They are gone.
This is my climate story.
It has been in my lifetime that CA has been plagued by unprecedented wildfires. The first time I saw the sun turn red, I was 12 years old. Last year, I was in a smoke cloud so thick, the sky went pitch black at noon. Driving in it, lights on high, the ash looked like snow as it fell around us. It felt apocalyptic.
This is my climate story.
The world is changing around us. It is so easy to pretend it is not. It is the start of summer here in CA in less than 2 week. Everything is blooming, its lush and abundant. It is easy to pretend that life around us isn’t hanging on by a thread. That we haven’t already lost the most vulnerable of our species. The lizards, the jack rabbits, the eels.
Indigenous people are fighting to protect, the eels and snakes, otters, and salmon. To promote balance, reciprocity, respect, and responsibility for the land. They are on the front lines of providing climate solutions. All while being occupied.
In the word of Kenny Ramos
“When we occupy other’s homelands, it becomes our responsibility to take care of the land that takes care of us. We must all become stewards. To live in reciprocity with the land. To give parts of ourselves to sustain her.”
My climate story started as a girl in love with the woods, the mountains, the ocean, the streams. Yet, even with my joy of the land, I was ignorant to the way I was taking to the way I am using.
The land has been sustaining me, endlessly giving to me, but I have not been giving back to her in a way that leaves her replenished. That too is my climate story.
I was raised on a piece of property once stolen from others. I have sweet memories of playing in a field of flowers. The same field where genocide of people took place.
My truth is that it has been easier to pretend I do not occupy the people’s land. The same people who still work tirelessly to heal the planet. To fight for that which we are losing.
It has been easier to use my privilege as a means of staying inactive and unresponsible. To ignore the call of stewardship that is demanded with awareness. This is my climate story.
And yet, I chose to walk away from the life I had built, an expertise I had gained, because I believe the most important thing, I could ever do is try my hardest to help heal this planet. Through my words, through my actions, through my creativity, through my ideas.
This too is my climate story.
I have hope every time I speak to someone about climate solutions. Even if it is messy, and I piss them off, or I bungle it. And I do this often. This is a messy space for me.I have hope every time I hear you speak about it too.
We are such creative magnificent beings. We know how to do this right. We have the solutions needed for healing and change.
But, It takes courage, It takes truthIt takes reflectionIt takes awarenessIt takes looking at what has changed around us, Remembering the loss of the lizards and rabbits, and eels, and understanding that we are accountable for it.
It takes owning that each of us is a steward. Every single one of us is responsible for ourselves and our actions.
Today, I tell you my climate story. I give it with love, compassion, and non-judgment, but with responsibility, and honesty.
And I ask you the same question, what is your climate story? Honestly and compassionately answering this question is the most impactful action you could take to help heal the planet. Because it starts your awareness. It highlights for you how to move forward. It starts your journey to help heal the planet.
If your story is one of complacency, of anger, of disempowerment, of ignorance, of shame, whatever! Join the club. Most of us are in that boat. But own it! Because once you own it, then will then no longer be defined by it. And you can begin making different choices. You can change your relationship with the planet.
Here are the 5 questions I asked to understand my climate story:
1. Whose land do I occupy?
2. What were global GHG emission levels when I was born, and how has that changed to now?
3. How have I seen the world change around me since I were a kid?
4. In what ways do I feel shame around climate change?
5. How am I already a climate hero?
I have linked in the show note additional resources you can use to dig in.
You got this. We got this. If you feel inspired, or brave, share your story with me. I would absolutely love to hear it.