Finding Your Place in a Changing World

The earth is big, and you are small. Climate change is scary, environmental justice is complex, and you are but a single being trying to make sense of it all. You know you want to take action. You know you want to create a better world. But here’s the question: Where to begin?

The answer is simple. Start where you are. 

In a world overflowing with facts and falsities, doom-and-gloom, and urgent calls to action related to climate change, social justice, sustainable living, it can be easy to feel stuck, overwhelmed, or ill-equipped to take on such big issues in your own small way. Maybe you think you don’t know enough, aren’t expert enough, aren’t practicing sustainability perfectly enough. But here’s the thing: exactly who you are is exactly what we need. 

So I’ll say it again. Start where you are. Bring your whole self, and truly, that will be enough.

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In my work, I collaborate with educators, students, and organizational leaders of all levels to bring meaningful ecological experiences to teaching and learning in schools and outdoors. Sometimes I am the classroom teacher, sometimes the teacher of teachers, and I am always a student in the art and craft of sustainability education. I have no “one way” of doing ecological education, only a practice of meeting each educator and learner exactly where they are on any given day. 

If I have learned one thing over the years it is that everyone has a role to play in addressing the complex issues affecting humanity, nature, and our collective well-being. Some of us know exactly which role is for us, and some of us have never really considered how we might contribute to efforts toward environmental justice, ecological regeneration, and climate change mitigation.

To help folks find their role in this movement, I use the term ecological artistry. Put simply, ecological artistry is the unique set of skills, knowledge, interests, and intentions each of us brings to any situation—be it teaching a class, walking in our neighborhood, sharing an evening with friends, or deciding what food we put in our bodies. Our personal ecological artistry is shaped by the people and places around us and informed by our experiences with nature and one another. Putting ecological artistry into action means using our particular expertise, passion, and imagination to create a better world for all, now and forever. Here’s what it can look like in practice:

One teacher I worked with was gifted at bringing the community into her physics classroom. Naturally friendly and curious by nature, this educator was always befriending the local amature astronomist or the recycling center director in the next town over. She set up field trips and Zoom sessions for students to meet these folks, learn with them, and make connections between physics in the classroom and its applications in their hometown. Students who never liked science before loved her class because of its practicality, depth, and connection to place. This was how she expressed her ecological artistry, through community building and a willingness to think—and teach—outside the box.

Another educator told me point blank she didn’t understand what teaching about climate change or sustainability or even nature had to do with important classroom learning. How did it link back to their ability to add and subtract? How would it help the English language learners succeed? I understood her skepticism. Teachers have a lot on their plates, and few are trained to think “ecologically,” let alone plan for teaching with and in nature. We started with weekly observations as she went about her “regular” teaching. I noticed two things: she loved teaching poetry and visual arts, and she already used all sorts of nature-based examples in her teaching. Over time we worked together to design a project centering on writing poetry and sharing migration stories—of both animals and humans. The teacher, once so unabashedly skeptical, beamed as she told me a switch had been flipped for her. Her ecological artistry was finally flickering on, lighting up a new path forward.

So, how can you tap into your ecological artistry? Here are a few ways:

Start where you are.

No, I’m not trying to be annoying or creatively repetitive. I mean it literally. Right this moment, take a few minutes to jot down ten things you notice about wherever you are that you never noticed before. It could simply be noticing the sounds around you or the quality of light in the room. If you’re in an unfamiliar place—great! Expand your awareness of your surroundings beyond the immediate and obvious. If you’re somewhere familiar—even better! Use this opportunity to find a bit of magic in the mundane. Want to go further? Take some time to get to know the community and landscape around you. What is this place known for? Has this always been the case? Who are your neighbors? Who else has lived on this land before you? What plants and animals are native to this place? Don’t feel like you have to learn it all at once. Take your time. Enjoy the journey. 

Bring your whole self. 

Dr. Ayana Elizabeth Johnson introduced the idea of creating a climate venn diagram to help each of us figure out “how you—you specifically—can help with climate solutions.” She explains that our personal call to action can be found at the place where our personal joy, special skills, and climate-justice work meet. Like the teacher learning to draw on her love of poetry and skill for storytelling to teach about justice and the environment, tapping into your ecological artistry asks you to honor what you love and what you are good at while carving out your niche in a changing environment. Do you love making delicious food from scratch? Offer to make a busy friend a home-cooked meal so they can skip the takeout and the trash it creates (and maybe spend a little time with you, to boot!). Are you amazing at finding the hidden gems when visiting new places? Pass on the good word to other eco-minded travelers and folks wanting to support local economies when away from home. Do you practice mindfulness or quiet contemplation? Self-care is a form of resistance.

Make time for wonder and delight.

Sounds simple enough, but how many of us actually make time for wonder and delight on a daily basis? It turns out that the more we seek out delight, the more we find it. Wonder requires attention and curiosity and, perhaps, a bit of awe. Delight comes in many forms, different for each of us on any given day. Wonder and delight remind us why doing the work to care for our planet and one another matters in the first place. So, go on. Stop and smell the flowers. Listen to the bird calls of spring. Take pictures of a plant from ten wholly different angles. Plant some peas and watch them grow. Walk a new path. Walk it again. Say hello to your neighbor. Watch a kid at play. Linger over coffee. Look up. Look down. Look, then look again. Pause. Breathe. Repeat. 

This is how you find your place in a changing world. This is where you begin.