Regenerative activism in times that try our souls
- Jane Elder
- Jun 8
- 5 min read
These are rugged times if you care about democracy, humanity, and the biosphere, and I assume that if you care about the Great Lakes, you are probably checking all those boxes. The constant drum of daily bad news and political dysfunction ripples through in the form of rollbacks of long-standing protections, rejection and expungement of expertise and institutional memory in regulatory and scientific agencies, and corporate sweetheart deals that trample on things we value and cherish.
This, in turn, threatens our health and well-being, the integrity of living systems within the waters of the Great Lakes and the lands that embrace their watersheds (and beyond) as well as our systems of government and the institutional frameworks that help them function.
It’s a lot to manage, mentally and emotionally, especially when you feel the threat to the places you love, or the burden of ecological damage that our “leaders” are thrusting on the non-billionaires of the world and future generations. The mercury-laden sword of Damocles that now hangs over the Boundary Waters since Congress bowed to the Trump Administration’s pressure to lift the ban on sulfide-based mining hit me hard. Within days of that action, we learned of this administration’s decisions to back off on protection from PFAS in our drinking water, and to ramp up glysophate herbicide applications in the national forests.
Meanwhile, Canada is rolling back a lot of its protections too, in the effort to rapidly ramp up their economic independence in the wake of the wacky tariff mess. And that’s just a few days’ worth of tough news. It’s too much, but there it is.
The easy response is rage, grief, and perhaps even despair, and it’s important to acknowledge that these may be logical human responses. At the same time, we also need to recognize that we can’t stay in that emotional space for very long, because it tempts us to entertain notions of futility, hopelessness, and cynicism or to adopt a kind of numbness to protect ourselves from the onslaught, none of which contribute to getting to solutions.
The world needs us —especially the people with heart— who understand that empathy is a gift, not a weakness, because it helps us take care of each other and our shared home for mutual benefit. The world also needs people who will roll up their sleeves and write one more letter to a callous public official, or show up at a public meeting, or otherwise speak up when it isn’t easy, but it is important. However, none of us can do this every day, on every issue, all the time.
And so, for a movement that talks about resilience and regeneration, we need to practice tending those capacities at the individual level, because our seasoned and emerging leaders are a type of keystone species in our social-change ecosystem, and we don’t want to lose them to burnout or brittleness.
A week or so ago, in a conversation with a colleague, we agreed to step back from some projects this summer, because we’re both feeling weary, and have been around long enough to know we need to take some time for self-care, as well as family and household needs, etc. It is time to replenish so we can rally again in a few months, and we can assume there will be something calling for attention.
We all have different ways of restoring our well, and if not, please consider this to be an alert that this is a life skill that needs some attention. I spent some time weeding my little perennial garden last week, and it gave me the opportunity to sit at eye level with an exquisite iris bloom. I put down my tools and sat quietly to appreciate its delicacy, the exquisite color and pattern on its petals, and the tiniest of little insects brushing against rows of little “hairs” in the center of the blossom, working to transfer some pollen or harvest some nectar. The scent of our neighbor’s Korean lilac drifted in, and the sun added a translucent glow and sparkle to the flower.
I was grateful to be alive in that space, at that moment, appreciating the gift of beauty and wonder of nature’s design. In a world with so much human disarray, I found ten minutes of peace with a perfect iris. While the irises have faded now and moved on to storing up energy for the next stage in their annual cycle, that dose of renewal will stay with me.
Nearly every “how to cope in these times” list includes spending time in nature as one of the priorities, and it is on my short list, too. Whether it is the nature in a city park, or a remote forest, it seems that connecting with our living environment is good for us, and while nature isn’t everyone’s solace, it certainly works for many people. My list also includes spending time with people I trust, engaging in small acts of building community, and listening after asking someone “how are you?” because a lot of us aren’t exactly “fine” these days.
I have found that the arts are also helping me breathe a little easier. A few weeks ago a fine production of The Merry Wives of Windsor had me laughing and also appreciating the genius of how Shakespeare uses his characters to invite us to consider the cost of irrational jealousy, or the need to control others, or to expose the fragile egos among those who claim grandness. More than 400 years after it entertained a queen, it still has things to teach us. Rock on, Will!
From the stage to the page, I’ve been finding grounding in the works of poets who are not only expressing the angst of our times, but also the tenderness of human caring and fortitude.
Other little lifts come from the visual arts. A photo of a new Chuck Bauer landscape painting recently popped up in my feed at just the right time, and it invited a pause to ponder and exhale. I sat with it to appreciate its gift of calm and serenity amidst the scroll of shouting headings. Lovely. And whether viewing art, or making it yourself, you are creating space for joy, creativity, beauty and meaning.
There are many other restorative practices that can help us build personal resilience, from spiritual practice to a hobby that brings us joy, to random acts of kindness, to taking time to rest—remember rest?
Summer invites us to slow down and smell the roses, savor the sweet corn, and put our toes in the water. It doesn’t mean we can blow off what’s happening in the political world and the related environmental threats. But, taking time to breathe, rest, connect, laugh, and affirm the bounty of goodness that so many people are striving to advance is an investment in the long-game.
Enjoy your summer!
—Jane Elder
GLEN welcomes diverse perspectives on Great Lakes protection. Please note that the views in our posts are those of the author. To learn more about GLEN please visit our website at https://www.greatlakesecoregion.org/