Whichever way you cut it, we’re in for darkening times. That much is assured. We need to start talking about this if we want to survive, for as long as we can, with any shred of dignity. And there is a challenge, raise the bar! We want to be going down fighting, but with the good fight in mind, the one where we take care of each other, compassionate beings knowing our destiny was always death beyond whatever we could achieve in this lifetime, not reacting harshly to this bottom line, remembering there were never any promises, holding out a helping hand whenever we can.
So I took part in this course, Leadership and Communication during Societal Breakdown, with Jem Bendell and Katie Carr. Jem has been writing the Scholars Warning letters since November 2020. They outline the risks of societal collapse and argue that we desperately need our so-called leaders to act on climate science. It’s like a gathering of educated adults acting like a heroic Swedish school kid, or something crazy like that. I’m proud to join hundreds of these wise souls from dozens of academic disciplines including climatology, environmental science, psychology and sociology.
Of course, i no longer believe we will effect meaningful change in time to avert disaster. That is no longer the point, for me and those others who know the data, the habits we are stuck in, the longer picture of civilizations collapsing one after the other into the desert sands. After 30 years of environmental activism, i accept our imminent demise and work to Save Our Souls instead. Send out the Morse Code, like climate scientists did at the Rio Earth Summit in 1992. Yes, 30 years ago now!
Jem also commented meaningfully on this anniversary here. His work to raise awareness of just how dire things have gotten is often called ‘doomism’, but critics miss the point – without facing reality squarely, we will never change. Like the Extinction Rebellion movement, he follows the psychological realisation that anticipating massive disruption and even the breakdown of industrial consumer societies helps inform those of us who are highly motivated for radical action. Welcome to Deep Adaptation at a glance!
Signatories of the Scholars Warning letters are now connecting with each other and exploring potential collaboration and future action, through the Leadership and Communication during Societal Breakdown Course. Alongside Jem’s expert knowledge about the ways conventional leadership is failing us in terms of facing possible collapse, facilitator Katie Carr holds the group in empathic listening and collective investigation of the question: what makes a good leader in the current historical context? Both Jem and Katie embody the leadership that is a strong contender for the answer to this question: it’s as good as we can approximate to a circular counsel, as focused on supporting each other as coming to any kind of necessary consensus. Along with others, i paid it forward, so if you want to pursue this course of action start here.
Dismayed as i am since those heady days when we seemed to still have hope – to turn the ship around, to convince world leaders and the public we actually had to, to become green and sustainable – i work mostly in the field of psychotherapy nowadays. At least we can hope to help people who turn to face the dangers now cascading across the horizon to breathe, to care for each other while we still can. But it isn’t enough to hold off the grief. The other night i slipped out behind the laundry to sob so that my children didn’t have to see the inconsolable fear and grief in my eyes. They don’t need to witness this yet; their futures will be impoverished enough, compared to the relatively benign, even beautiful decades i have enjoyed.
Entering the course i was convinced by the NTHE data and that hasn’t changed. So it was a great relief to recall how much meaningful work, alongside other people, brings you back around to life, to what is important. I know this from my work in the ecotherapy field, especially seeing the enormous benefit that community gardens have brought so many, both here and in the UK. But this went beneath my comfortable intellectual understanding, to bring me back into the fold. I’m most comfortable on my own or with nature – inner or cosmic, i can usually find happiness, or at least solace, in philosophy or dreaming. Other people – who even are they? Strangers, sometimes friends, aliens … my weakness.
Thankfully i find enough inner resources to reach out, on the odd occasion, and link up with some external ones. People shouldn’t be thought of as resources – neither should natural elements – but sometimes we need to find a shoulder to cry on, a hand to lift us up, someone else to help us to understand we might be backing ourselves into a corner.
It doesn’t matter what we think or pray the future holds. What matters is what we do with our time. If you are concerned about ecosystem and societal collapse, climate chaos and all the other disaster coming down the line, let me extol the virtues of doing something about it. Not as if we are going to find some miraculous way out of our catastrophic dilemma – but as if we could still find something in each other worth holding onto.
Glistening in tiny raindrops that resemble silver balls of dew, Arachne sits queen of her web, which has appeared overnight across my doorway. Usually i wouldn’t turn an outdoor light on before dawn, as i am comfortable in the darkness and keen to take in as much of the night sky as possible before Aurora shimmers silver across the horizon from the east. But i’m not at home. I’m staying in a rustic retreat centre in the Sunshine Coast hinterland, south east Queensland, leading an intensive for ecopsychotherapy students. There’s no sunshine, though. The rain of our Australian La Nina continues. Hopefully there’ll be no more flooding, although Mullumbimby residents are meeting again, in preparation for ‘Severe Weather’.
The light goes on and i step out, carefully, mindful that each step is a moment in time, not rushing to see if there is any chance of glimpsing the sunrise through the clouds. And there she is; i see her just in time, so that the door doesn’t take out her web, she doesn’t feel panicked as her airy world is shaken apart, and doesn’t end up crawling across my face.
Because i was moving slowly, i don’t have to clear silky strands from my face and help her back into her broken web. Instead, i take the time to stop in awe of her beauty. I know i should go and help my co-facilitator set up the hall for our morning yoga session, but i can’t drag myself away from this stunningly beautiful vision. Tiny crystalline balls of water glisten in the electric light, across her body and web, which is a spiralling cage of death to smaller insects, but a geometric pattern of wonder to me. My door has broken one long strand, which connects the web to the ground, so when i finally walk away, she is working on repairs.
There is no dawn glimmering today, so i can’t perform my Sunrise Ceremony, and the heavy cloud cover means no Venus, Jupiter, Mars or Saturn (or Aphrodite, Zeus, Ares and Kronos) either. I’ve been tracking this predawn planetary alignment for weeks, as i perform my morning prayers at home. It is good to be visited by the gods and goddesses, occasionally.
Back inside for yoga just after dawn, then out on Country after breakfast. What do we find when we reconnect with nature? Participants speak lovingly of rediscovering childlike delight in little things, of the watercourses they visit when they are stressed and how much calmer they feel after some time there, or of a rock in a special place that recreates a feeling of stability and confidence that has been eroded by modern reality. We speak of encounters with butterflies and ducks, of when we sense a grander scheme of things, when facing the ocean or the sky, or how we get our breath back with a walk in the bush.
We start with reality. Where are we at today? We probably shouldn’t have to work to find solace in nature, but we do. So, we create that space, sharpen our ears, make time and allow ourselves to sink back into connection. Many find deeper rest here, some feel more enlivened. All note the way their sense of separation from nature is dissolved, how they return to a feeling of being in relationship with the land, other animals, the elements. The rain has its magical rhythm, even for those who have been traumatised by the recent floods. Tears flow, wounds are reopened and healed over again, genuine smiles come easy … the earth sings and we tune in.
We sit in the Temenos, the sacred and safe space where all sharing is valid, where our vulnerable, soft, sometimes broken animal selves can peep out and find comfort in others. We practise walking therapy, deep listening to each other as well as nature, not talking over or waiting to respond, but being there, offering authenticity and the ‘unconditional positive regard’ recommended by person-centred counselling godfather Carl Rogers.
We choose Sit Spots, where we can become more aware of changes in the natural landscape from day to day, moment to moment. We open up the doors of perception and come back to our senses in the moment. We draw the mind back from its monkey-like grasping and from the machine that captures us all, all too often. Guided meditations draw our awareness down into the earth’s hum, into our unique being and our universal flow at the same time, into animal totems old and new. We learn from nature, like we always did. It provides endless metaphors of healing, empowerment and flow; the grass bounces back after being trodden down, a river flows around the rocks that seemed like barriers at first, a gentle breeze brings us back to our bodies in the here and now.
We let nature tell our life story for once, and sing around the campfire, like people have always done. It is all so easy, smooth and natural, we wonder how we ever lost this feeling in the first place.
*NB: boundless thanks to the participants and my co-facilitator Charlotte Brown. All photos by the author. If you feel moved by these words, please consider Subscribing, Sharing or Liking this post.
Let’s begin with the comment from the inaugural post in this new thread. If Teresita is right and most of us know deep inside that we are doomed in the near future, what do we get out of either facing this probability head on versus not thinking about it too much? As Teresita writes, “In a very human aspect we all want to live our lives … as if nothing was about to happen. Love needs to be circulating. The risk of depression and apathy is very high if we accept this truth just like that.”
So, let’s focus on attention and awareness. I want to face the truth of what is coming, so that i can live and die as consciously as possible. How to avoid sinking into depression, apathy, anxiety or fury, when we see that the human race is about to be culpable for the extermination of most life on earth, as the hothouse explodes into action over the next few years, if not decades? One way of thinking this through is to think in terms of investment and reward – a strikingly capitalist, or at least materialistic metaphor i know, considering we are talking here about values, psyche, heart and soul. But i’m going to try and stick to the here and now, the realities of our physical existence as much as possible, while we can. There will be time for the spiritual possibilities later.
Let’s roll the dice. Life’s a gamble, yes? We never quite know what the result of our actions will be. Let’s say we focus some attention on an imminent, planetary extinction event. What is the reward for this path? What is the reward, or possible set of outcomes, for avoiding this? Preparing the mind for chaos seems to me more valuable. What will we do when societal breakdown becomes one of the realities between now and then? When people are hungry, homeless, shocked, destitute, desperate? They will be looking for answers where there are none. The least we could do, as thoughtful people with the courage to look ahead, is to be ready with whatever little shreds of wisdom we can muster, like bits of flotsam on the flood.
I believe the horrors will be worse if we don’t prepare our minds, our hearts and souls for what seems inevitable. I want to live and die like a beautiful social primate, capable of self-awareness and generosity of spirit. We are all going to be challenged more than we can yet even possibly imagine. A bit of preparation can go a long way.
*NB: I’m going to try to keep these meditations short. Please Like, Share and Subscribe. Please leave comments, suggestions for the dilemmas we need to discuss, questions, debates, interventions etc.
Image: La Bête de la Mer (Tapisserie de l’Apocalypse) / The Beast of the Sea (Tapestry of the Apocalypse)
If i were to wish for one thing from a new year, a fresh start, it would be to become more grounded in reality, more capable of remaining aware of my breath as i move through life, more awake to the life of the world as it flows. To do that, i want to start by focusing on waking up from the dream of modern society, the consensus trance we are convinced is everyday reality.
This raises one core issue affecting us today: we are cut off at the root from nature. We are disconnected, as we wander the cities and the shopping malls, filling up on fossil fuels and alive to the 24/7 energy of the global village – but we have been doing so as if we were sleep walking. Now, it is great to see so many people waking up to the ruse – the capitalist shell game, where you never quite know where anything comes from unless you work hard to uncover the truth or make it to your local farmers market. Guiding people back to the place where everything comes from, the source – the earth and the stars, the elements and the ecosystem – is my path and my privilege.
I recently delivered the first ever Holistic Ecotherapy course and this was what we concentrated on. Reconnection. (By no coincidence this was the name of the album my post-punk art rock band Severins released last year). Sounds great, but exactly how do we reconnect, when we are trained so poorly by modern socialising forces?
We train our attention back. Back to the breath, back to the body, back to awakening to consciousness in the here and now. The mind wanders; bring it back. We practice mindfulness. But once we have that awareness back in place, we drop further down into the bodymind of this one precious life; we drop down into deep listening. This is immersive self-awareness. This is no separation between mind and body, self and nature, purpose and reality.
Now, we are nature listening to nature. We are awake to our place as a human self in a broad and living ecosystem. We are its human mind waking up to itself. There are plenty of other forms of intelligence in this ecosystem. At dawn on the morning of our final session together, a chorus of birds accompanied me down to my current favourite spot at Shark Bay and a yellow serpent coiled up in my belly, calling for some action. I felt the intelligence, the conscious awareness, of a living world breathing all around me, calling out to be heard. I felt the nervousness and responsibility of being the person who was ready to take note of this call and pass it on.
Ironically, in an online course, we were ‘together’ on separate laptops, in quiet bedrooms and lounges, all of us encased in four walls while we learnt to connect more deeply with nature. Such was life in 2021. We could still practice and everyone was given exercises to take out on their next sojourn to the great outdoors – even if this was a city park at lunch time, or a patch of grass in the backyard, or under a nearby neighbourhood tree. We vowed to take notice. Not always looking for something to attain, to receive, to be given – but to take notice, as if we were in love with our home and everything it has already given us.
To greet the place we live, to honour those who came before us, to give thanks to the earth and the elements and our kin, the other plants and animals who play their parts in maintaining a biosphere of life. If we feel called or ready to do so, to speak or sing our praise out loud, to offer gifts and service to nature, to treat it as if it was loved and to open ourselves to how that feels.
We also honoured the people and experiences that have brought deep listening into the public conversation, offered respect to the ancestors of the Country we are on, as well as our own ancestors, recalling our ancient and contemporary birthright to be here now, to feel we really belong in our bodies and our places. When we experience this level of love for our home, we don’t need to look anywhere else for a sense of accomplishment, transcendence or ecstasy.
Deep Listening, Deep Connection.
Join me for the next online Holistic Ecotherapy course here.
Please Like, Share and Subscribe, if you want more stuff like this. Beats what passes for news on the TV, yeah?
Every now and then, you have a conversation that brings everything together. After many years of working on a concept i have come to call the “ecomythic”, this interview with Al Jeffery from “spaces between” inspired me to become unusually coherent about this realm. Al’s approach offers plenty of space to explore, no pressure to conform to any expectations, even our own, and is a real breath of fresh air if you want to find out more about how other people are stretching themselves beyond conventional boundaries.
I was so pleasantly surprised by how much territory we covered in this hour. It’s like a melted down version of hundreds of hours of reflection, deep listening in nature, philosophy and the big picture of how we got where we’re at right now – you know, the history of civilisation, development of technology, showing proper respect for the spirits, that kind of thing.
There is a fair bit here to digest, and some of it arises out of non-ordinary reality, so if you would like to follow that path for a bit, here is your invitation. It’s called “Attuning to the Spirit of Place & the Ecomythic” and you can find it here.
One of the two very vivid dreams I recall from my early childhood in the 70s was a warning about the current times. I think of it sometimes, as it informs me about how to steady myself for the extinction event that is currently escalating on our planetary home.
Although very young when I dreamt this, I am a bearded man in the dream, standing on a granite pavement, with my two children standing innocently next to me. It feels very Atlantean; we are part of an advanced civilization, proud of our place in the world. I had been in some kind of committee meeting, inside a marble hall, and had come out for some fresh air and to see my children. Suddenly, without warning, the ground began to rumble beneath our feet. In no time at all, the pavement was crumbling away, and I begin to lose my footing, which seemed so secure just moments before. I instinctively reached down, grabbed both of my children in my arms, and pulled them up to my chest. It felt good to have them so close, even as the world collapsed into an abyss beneath our feet.
And that’s it. Like so many dreams, it simply ends, having appeared to my young mind from … from where? Nothing in my early childhood offers a reliable compass for this vision. It is a spontaneous irruption from the collective unconscious, a pattern of longing, shock and adaptation, an archetype of life and death arising out of the storehouse of human myth and symbol.
But the imagery says so much – and its visionary power goes a long way to explaining why I have always known that the world as we know it would end in my lifetime. Now that we are seeing evidence of this everywhere, it is time to draw upon the endlessly fascinating world of myth to try and navigate the tumultuous seas that are crashing down upon us, as runaway climate disaster is matched by unstoppable ecosystem breakdown, all in feedback loops of their own.
So, what can the great stories from the collective annals of culture tell us about where we’re at now and what we can do about it? What wisdom can be imparted by studying the ancient ways, as well as waking up to the limitless miracle of the moment (which is really where myth points, endlessly).
The end of this world has been a consistent image in world mythologies, from Biblical revelations to Mayan calendars, from nuclear threats to Kali Yuga. There is little point in running over the false starts and fake prophets that have predicted that The End is Nigh! So, just as my MA tracked the way that our dreams link us to the mysterious worlds of myth, let’s return to its life changing power and see what can be further divined from it.
I mention that my dream felt Atlantean, knowing that the original inspiration behind the myth of a lost but highly advanced civilisation can be found in Plato’s dialogues Timaeus and Critias. In the latter, Plato tells of the fast and furious fall of the legendary Atlantis, when “there occurred violent earthquakes and floods; and in a single day and night of misfortune … the island disappeared in the depths of the sea.”
An entire civilisation disappearing in 24 hours is a classic ‘warp’ of mythic time, which is often elastic enough to stretch out towards the infinite (which we can experience when we practice timelessness) and back in towards the intimate (which is how we experience time in an embodied sense). Plato’s 24 hours can remind us of the riddle Oedipus answers to destroy the Sphinx at the gates of Thebes, unwittingly ensuring his own downfall: what creature has four legs in the morning, two during the day, and three at night? A human, whose life passes so quickly from the face of the earth that it may as well be one day – from crawling infant, to free standing adult, to the elder holding themselves up with a crutch – our entire lives pass as quickly as a mote in time.
This also makes sense in another way: the entirety of large-scale human civilisation – urban settlements built on the profits of agriculture and colonisation, magnified a hundred-fold with the industrial revolution – has risen and will fall in the blink of a geological eye. Our moment in the sun has been brilliant and short-lived. Like Atlantis – both the one Plato claimed was already an ancient myth in his day and the imaginative one that has been dreamt up many times since – we are now crumbling into the sea. And as in my dream, it is now happening very, very quickly. Technological development and ecosystem destruction have been increasingly rapid in postmodern industrial culture. But as I never tire of pointing out, the exponential pace of this machine was set in motion during the agricultural revolution, thousands of years ago, when we changed from treating the life around us as kin and instead started to think about it as a set of resources for our use.
And now, we are visiting panic time. Mental health issues are skyrocketing – a pandemic is highlighting and magnifying this, because we mammals don’t flourish when we are socially isolated – but we can expect this to continuously escalate, as the true horror of what faces us next becomes increasingly apparent. We don’t need old time prophetic predictions anymore – a hot house earth is now a matter of scientific certainty and will spell the end of the world as we know it (certainly for the beer and skittles reality we in the affluent west have enjoyed over recent decades).
The only thing left to do is to prepare for the best possible end we can, to draw near those or that which we love, resist the urge to become frantic, let go of our sense of entitlement, practice meditation and breath work and become proficient in dealing with grief. (I’ll keep practising environmental activism, btw, but the days are gone when we might have dreamt we were going to make any real difference to the near future of the planet.)
It’s time to spend the rest of our lives building relationship with the sliver of our consciousness that remains connected to the eternal spark of life. Paradoxically, the practice of seeking to awaken to the timeless can deepen our awareness of the moment, as we experience life in the body, in the here and now, this unrepeatable but soon to pass opportunity to be exactly who we are. Breathing in connection with all that is connects us to the spirit of life that emerges out of the universe and falls back into the ultimate matrix upon its death. Like everything else, we are the flourish of a brush stroke, the coming into being of a certain kind of energy, the passing of a firefly in the night.
My childhood dream is like a lifetime’s memento mori, a reminder that death awaits us all. My guiding metaphor for the awakening I seek out of it is the life cycle of the butterfly. We have been crawling along as caterpillars, but now it is time to create a cocoon, withdraw into it, and dissolve into goop. These old selves must die. This applies on multiple layers and across differing contexts of our lives; I recently emerged from a 5-year apprenticeship to nature spirit, guided again by my dreams, this time to leave the city and live a coastal life far away from my academic and other urban pursuits. This whole period of life, including work and parenting and being in the world in my way, was like a cocoon compared to my previous existence. But I also feel like every night is another cocoon, out of which we emerge renewed; as is every meditation sit, every relationship breakdown, every opportunity for change.
No matter what the context, we can see in nature that there is a basis for trusting that the goop of our dissolved self will re-crystallise, that a new being will grow and build strength, that eventually, after a long, dark night of the soul, we will break out of one cocoon and fly free to another dimension of ourselves. This is the cycle of energy that gives rise to religions: all that lives must die and out of death comes new life. Quantum physics tells us the same thing – life is energy and it is never completely snuffed out, just transformed. To believe that this is what happens to us, to our bodies and consciousness, when we die makes just as much sense as any other faith, like the one that states that consciousness arises out of physical matter and life is ultimately meaningless. As the world crumbles away around us, which myth will you choose? To hold onto the last vestiges of your sense of entitlement; to party as much as possible; to forgive and expand; to prepare for another dimension?
Every traditional culture teaches that part of us passes over to another realm. With an ear out for that wisdom, we can live for the moment and experience the vibration of a living, intelligent cosmos. If we do so while practicing compassion for the suffering of all beings, we may even realise some small measure of liberation from the confines of the self along the way. The possibility of spiritual liberation in itself should be enough to inspire us to reconnect with the ocean of eternity, beyond the iron cage of reason and the isolation of the individual.
I’ll still reach for my kids as the world crumbles beneath our feet. And I’ll still be thankful to feel their breath on my chest as we fall into the abyss below. That’s because the shadow of death does not seem a threat to me, but a promise. This is the ecomythic in action – inspiring compassion for all creatures, celebrating a living cosmos and an animate earth, within which we all dance, for that limited time we have allotted.
*NB: if you got something out of this post, please Like, Share and Subscribe. It really does help me to keep writing.
