Sugar Pine Point at South Lake Tahoe

The “Jewel of the Sierra” –  Lake Tahoe as it was before ecological disaster became our nightmare come true. When the Caldor Fire blew over Echo Ridge in late August, and roared into the Tahoe Basin, I cried, mourning the immense beauty going up in smoke. For many, the possible loss of homes, cabins, beloved places where memories were created is all too real. We have so much to lose here in Northern California.

I don’t have any physical property to claim at Lake Tahoe. What I do have are memories of sparkling afternoons when I dipped my feet in the icy water and looked across an azure expanse at the mountains, of children’s laughter, of sand shaken out of towels, of mountain breezes and air so pure it sears your lungs. The thought of losing an iota of it is enough to make me weep.

Nature is powerful. She is speaking to us, urging us to get back in balance. I hope enough of us are listening…enough to act with urgency to avert the worst.

Climate grief is real. And it’s spreading like kudzu as more and more people face real time disasters – not just once, but season after season.  Each person has their own breaking point. For an Australian it might be the burnt paws and singed face of a koala; for the Inuit hunter it’s the loss of sea ice and a way of life spanning millennia; for me, it’s the conflagration of the forests from the Sierra foothills to the Nevada border, threatening the azure waters of one of the most beautiful Alpine lakes in the world. And putting people and wild creatures at risk.

As I write this, psychologists report a flood of patients with eco-anxiety, depression, and climate grief – people who are mourning an unfolding catastrophe. “It’s so all encompassing,” says psychology professor Susan Clayton. “People might [feel] that the entire ecosystem of which they are a part is changing.”

This is a new kind of grief – what psychologists call “disenfranchised grief.” There is little cultural support for climate grief or any publicly acknowledged rituals to mark the loss. But as ever more fierce climate disasters strike, more people worldwide agree that urgent action is needed.

A recent survey conducted by the United Nations found that almost two-thirds of the over 1.2 million people surveyed worldwide say that climate change is a global emergency, urging greater action to address the crisis.

Climate grief conversation groups are springing up, and I recently joined one online. It’s a safe place to share feelings of loss and fear, and to find ways to move beyond paralysis to constructive action. Started by psychologist and climate activist Margaret Klein Salaman, these groups are designed to help participants share emotions in listening sessions.

According to her website “Climate Awakening,” the goal is “to help people turn their pain into action and build power for the climate emergency movement.”

Our group was far flung – from Australia, British Columbia, and the U.S. – but we all expressed sadness, overwhelm, and anger about the crisis. By the end of the conversation, we found that breaking our silence with honest emotional sharing had made each of us feel a bit lighter, a bit less alone.

Collectively, there are things we can do, especially as elders who have accumulated life experience and resources. Solutions are within our grasp, but we must demand our leaders implement them.

Here are a few possibilities for individual as well as group action:

• Contact local, state, and national representatives and demand urgent action and a climate emergency declaration that recognizes global warming as a health emergency that puts seniors, children, the unhoused, poor communities and other vulnerable populations at risk.
• Read the U.N. climate agency’s most recent report on the climate crisis, “United in Science,” which includes reports of the regional effects of severe weather, fires, and drought for a clearer picture of what we face in the American West.
• Join national organizations such as Elders Climate Action, Project Drawdown, or the Sunrise Movement that are fighting for climate justice and political action.
• Watch the film “Ice on Fire,” available on Netflix, for a clearer picture of the science not only of the problem, but of the many innovative solutions that are possible with collective action.
• Spend time in nature recognizing it as source of strength. Even as many beautiful places are at risk – immersion in nature is still our best ally.
• Above all, stay centered and hopeful. Join or start a meditation group. Practice any kind of centering activity such as walking, Qigong, Yoga, or dancing. Talk to other like-minded people who are facing their own grief and are willing to share supportive conversations.

There are bright spots, even in a crisis. Being human, sometimes we need an emergency to wake us up. The Caldor Fire is enough for me. I’m wide awake and ready to act.

This post was adapted from my “Bright Side” column in The Rossmoor News of September 15, 2021