From Eco-Warrior to Life Worshipper: Why Earth Care is Self Care
When I was an adolescent, I felt the pressure of the climate crisis weighing down on me.
In many ways, I felt like it was up to me to single-handedly reverse the environmental impact of centuries of human activity by making sustainable choices.
Cue veganism, thrift-store-shopping, going organic, and a long list of small, everyday changes that were meant to literally “save the planet,” in no uncertain terms.
I’m extremely grateful to have developed my environmental consciousness at a young age, but I take a very different approach these days.
While many of the practices look the same—like bringing by own bags to shop with, opting for reusable containers and straws, choosing products without plastic packaging, and opting for local food when possible—my internal motivation couldn’t be more different.
Back then, I felt a fear-based sense of urgency and responsibility, as well as the goal-oriented approach of saving the Earth, humanity, and the whole darn world.
Whoah! Calm down, younger self.
A healthy motive can hide unhealthy attitudes
Though my motives were positive at base, there are a lot of problems with this approach.
One is that it puts the onus of the climate crisis on the individual, when it’s a collective and ultimately institutional issue.
Second, it feels a little bit like the environmental version of white saviorism. It’s not my job to save the world, so I can just hop off that soapbox.
Third, it feeds into the same “control and fix” mentality that spawned the climate crisis in the first place.
Finally, and most importantly in my eyes, it was done from a place of fear, not joy.
To be quite honest, I was stressed the eff out! I was seriously concerned that our planet was going to crash and burn.
Meanwhile, everyone else seemed to be too caught up in business as usual to notice. I felt isolated, alone, and developed a pretty serious Cassandra complex about it.
A more balanced approach
Luckily, my orientation to sustainable living has changed one thousand fold.
For one, the I let go of the pressure to fix, save, or play hero/oracle/tragically-doomed Cassandra to the rest of the world. I realized that this approach was ultimately coming from a place of ego, and that this isn’t about me at all. Surprise!
The Earth is going to do what it’s going to do. So are the tides, the climate, the weather, the forest fires, and the constantly-evolving viruses that may or may not lead to widespread infectious disease.
Nature has been doing her thing since time immemorial. She’s going to just keep on doing it.
Of course, the signs that Nature’s been giving us are totally unprecedented, writing-on-the-wall kind of signs. And we have to face the reality that human actions have tipped the scales. That’s for sure.
Still, the bottom line is that what’s going to happen is going to happen. I can’t stop the climate crisis any more than I can stop a tidal wave, a meteor from striking Earth, or the sun from eventually imploding into a black hole.
In the end, I am but a grain of sand on the infinite beach of reality.
Learning acceptance, surrender, and the ultimate insignificance of my role in all of this has been humbling, to say the least. Not to mention it’s done a world of good for my mental health.
But does that mean I’m giving up, throwing in the towel, and waving the white flag?
Not a chance!
These days, I still make choices that value sustainability as much as possible.
But if I understand what a drop in the bucket these actions are, why do I do it?
The main reason is that, no matter what the outcome will be, there is still power in making choices that reflect my love, respect, and reverence for the Earth.
To me, and to many wisdom traditions the world over, the Earth represents life itself. It represents fecundity, fertility, the mother goddess, the womb from which we spring and the bosom from which we drink.
The Earth, to me, is literally the body of the cosmic goddess. Any kind of degradation to her body is degradation to all bodies, especially but not only female bodies.
Just the other day in The Shakti School, Katie Silcox made the beautiful point that the word “matter” comes the same etymological root as mother. Whether it’s mutter, madre, or ma, these words share the same origin.
Then she went on to say that “When we think matter matters, we treat matter well.”
Whoah!
If you love wordplay and etymology as much as me, your mind may have just been blown.
In this case, matter is the Earth as much as it is manifestation itself, our literal mothers, or the mother principle.
Why it matters for your mental health
One of my spiritual teachers often says that caring for the place that provides us with a home, nourishment, and the literal elements that sustain life is simply basic sanity.
It’s basically sane to not sh*t where you eat.
To do otherwise is to turn a blind eye to reality, which is the beginning of self-delusion.
Sure, we’ve got to cope. We’ve got to get on with life, even if the world seems to be going to hell in a hand basket.
What we don’t have to do is ignore our own innate impulse to care.
No matter how urban and technology-laden your life may be, it likely pains you to see growing landfills, oil spills, burning rainforests, and clearcut trees. Although it hurts, this simply means you’re human.
Even if it’s buried deep down, it still hurts.
This kind of emotional repression doesn’t end well. It can lead to depression, anxiety, apathy, and even reckless behavior.
On the other hand, when we make choices that are in line with the basic truth that we’re interdependent with the Earth, we’re not only affirming the value of nature, but the value of our own lives.
If Earth matters, we matter, and vice versa. That’s how interconnection works.
Acknowledging this with our actions is one way to choose not to participate in all the crazy that got us here in the first place.
Cultivating a relationship with Mother Earth
These days, making sustainable choices has much more to do with expressing my love of the Earth.
More than keeping tabs on my carbon footprint, I think of the little things I do to live in harmony with the Earth as acts of life-affirmation.
It’s like a courtship:
Just as I might pick flowers or compose a poem for the one I love, growing a garden, taking short showers, and returning my milk bottles to the grocery store are simply romantic gestures.
They’re ways for me to say thank you for the bounty I experience, to show my appreciation for the miracles of nature, to bow again and again to life itself.
Free of the eco-warrior ego-trip, I’m left with a simple sense of connection to an ever-changing world, an awareness of my vulnerability as a transient, living being, and the awe-struck sense of wonder that comes from realizing that, despite it all, I’m here living, breathing, and loving for at least one more day.
