The Case For Struggling
Pain is the price of a meaningful life. I want the latter but not the former, or do I? Why do I keep entering environments that often treat me like a dangerous microbe - because this work matters
I’m a very impatient person. I want what I want, and don’t make me wait. And I want it with the least amount of effort too. My natural impulse is to want to eat the marshmallow immediately. The gratification of that as soon as possible hit is the rush. Later, when I realise it, regret arrives.
Despite this, the things that have and still bring me the greatest joys in my life have been the most challenging. Pursuing a childhood dream of playing cricket as a living. Helping to set up and steward one of the only efforts in Australia to legitimately and meaningful balance the necessary labour rights of workers against the always pressing commercial interests of property companies at the Cleaning Accountability Framework. Losing myself in the incredible community of misfits that run and run and run ultra distance events. Spending three years in banking understanding adjacent energy sector opportunities and birthing the convergence of my strengths, interests and motivations at Wattle Energy. Working in corporate sustainability and the seemingly endless ways by which being disappointed is possible. And the greatest and most challenging of all, parenting.
Why have they mattered the most? They all involved perseverance. What has been most meaningful in my life is always correlated against what has been the most challenging and difficult. Success has been difficult to measure, progress usually imperceptible. Under it all the time, in equal measure to uncertainty was trust. I trusted that I could overcome. I trusted that I was on the path to something I believed meant something. I trusted that the effort would be worth it. And it was.
Life in the realm of sustainability - whether in a corporate, a start-up, a NFP or wherever you’re trying to make a difference- is The School of Hard Knocks And Constant Setbacks. We live in a realm of constant false starts. When I can hire one person, it’ll definitely all fall into place. When the Taskforce on Climate-Related Financial Disclosures appears it’ll all fall into place. When The Chair supports this agenda it’ll fall into place, I think. When executive remuneration is linked to sustainability outcomes it’ll fall into place, I hope. When we report 100 pages of stand alone non-financial information, it’ll definitely all fall into place. Hold on.
The experience of Finding Nature has helped put me in contact with many remarkable, noble and spirited people in this part hopeful part delusional world that we operate in. I’ve been injected with optimism, something that I can choose as my attitude. My challenge to juggle patience and urgency hasn’t gone away, but I have realised that my ‘below the line’ attitude gets me absolutely nowhere. Even then I want to rail against feedback - “so I’m the crazy one to be attempting to act on the perils and threats humanity is the cause of and should accept inane reasons why it’s hard for just about everybody else?” Right then I want the single marshmallow. Get all my toys and launch them from my cot.
An important lesson I have struggled to embody is to move from judgement to tolerance. Perseverance matters in these moments. It’s deciding to do the tiniest possible action towards where I want to get to and surrendering the ideal I have imagined and want others to magically be imbued by. That is boring though. It’s drudgery and largely anonymous. I’ve made the mistake plenty of times to overreach for where I immediately want to be and experienced the inevitable sense of failure - and the shame, despondency and resentment that comes with that - when that hasn’t happened. Tolerance in those moments is to do the next thing and surrender the outcome I want and just trust that some universal arc of morality is really bending towards justice.
Anytime I’ve hit that finish line, seen the impact of a piece of work in the real world or been able to both avoid meltdown but revel in the the embrace of my son, it is because of the tiniest decisions and actions towards Whatever My Lighthouse Is In That Situation. None of that is easy, none of those actions are triumphant, none of that seen and rapturously applauded. It adds up though. When I don’t slip into change being about one hard left turn but the accumulation of hundreds and thousands of tiny things, consistently applied and diligently undertaken, pride and contentedness arrives, something far more nourishing and empowering than whatever external validation there may be. How boring though. Where’s my marshmallow. Is there a silver bullet nearby? It’s time I finally found The Answer by reading How to Make Friends and Influence People. If only.
The effort to change the practices, cultures, worldviews and values of the people who make up our workplaces is exhausting work. Often I wonder if I have too much perseverance, that I’ve crossed into self-harming territory and I’m really a professional masochist. Then I realise this is the path, my path, our path. We understand, we know. It’s not for the faint of heart. You, and I, are not faint of heart though.
The contributions this month are special. Sharing struggles in a real way with others in a medium like this is brave.
Thank you for reading, good luck on your own path and reach out whenever you need an injection of nourishment, to feel a sense of belonging and to share and receive the wisdom of this wonderful community.
Nathan
From Breakdown to Breakthrough - Michael Bones
In a stroke of universal serendipity I was working on the deadlock of adaptation finance when I saw a post from Michael describing the significant toll leading the Investor Group on Climate Change’s first climate risk strategy had. This was The Guy I needed to speak to - and what a person he has turned out being a person to speak with. Michael is warm, gracious, courageous and has perseverance in spades. His Path is emerging, and one for all of us to take note of.
Meditations on Perseverance, Hope and Love in the Anthropocene
How my work on climate change led to an encounter with ‘psychological peril’, and how the spiritual teachings of Aboriginal Elders — and the love of a good woman — helped me persevere.
I - Perseverance
“If you really care about climate change, you’re probably pretty depressed.”
— Daniel Schmachtenberger
In his recent essay, Writing in Nature, Tim Winton, acclaimed Australian author, urges all of us living through the Anthropocene to do “labour that sustains the web of life”. This requires learning more about Nature, which also means facing a disturbing truth: modern human society is seriously damaging Earth’s essential life support systems and driving our planet’s sixth mass extinction event.
Because of emergent human behaviour over the 264 years since the Industrial Revolution, Earth’s climate, ecosystems and biodiversity are facing increased stress that’s predicted to get much, much worse. To understand what is coming we must, by necessity, consider catastrophe, and accept that our families, communities, businesses and economies will face exponentially increasing threats from worsening heat, fires, floods, famines and war. We must prepare accordingly, while doing what we can to reduce greenhouse gas concentrations in the atmosphere.
The picture painted by the data is not good, the cost of inaction very great, and the pace and scale of response from most polities is exasperatingly insufficient. Winton acknowledges that climate science is “viscerally confronting” and warns “the work of not averting your gaze is…psychologically perilous”.
While more people are beginning to appreciate the risks climate change presents, not everyone is looking closely at the scientific evidence. For most of my career, I’d been focused on removing barriers to reducing emissions. But, after putting my hand up to write a strategy on physical climate risk for the Investor Group on Climate Change, it became my job to look again at the science.
II - HOPE
“Hope…is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously headed for early success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good, not just because it stands a chance to succeed.”
— Vaclav Havel
Since waking up to the climate challenge at University in the late 2000s, I have contributed my labour to systemic responses in the fields of finance, politics and policy, including: climate law at ANU, fossil-free investing at Future Super, the ‘Teal’ community independents movement at Climate 200, and now national-level policy advocacy with Investor Group on Climate Change (IGCC).
Given my line of work and a history of depression in my family, I have developed a robust routine to keep myself physically fit, mentally healthy and socially connected. I start each day with a coffee, Morning Pages and gratitude journaling. I practise movement regularly, pushing my physical limits by training handstands, mobility and strength. And I cultivate community through my non-profit Yeehaw, hosting regular contemplation club dinner parties, an intergenerational choir, Nature walks, and community Equinox gatherings.
Despite all this, plus a decade and a half experience studying and working in the field, last year — while revisiting the scientific literature to develop IGCC’s physical climate risk strategy, Road to Resilience — I encountered a challenge to my own mental and emotional resilience. Simply put, I had a breakdown.
As I spent time (re)contemplating the magnitude of the coming calamities, I (re)encountered Winton’s forewarned psychological perils. I started feeling a deep sense of grief, sadness and loss. Academically, none of the information, though harrowing, was new. More catastrophic fires and floods, more unprecedented droughts and rain bombs, more melting poles and rising seas, more avoidable suffering for humans and non-humans, more irreparable damage to the ecosystems upon which we all rely, and which, like us, have an innate right to exist. Again, none of this information was new. But, for whatever reason, a sense of overwhelm settled in.
I started crying uncontrollably at the strangest times: squatting at the gym, walking in the bush, sitting at the desk to write. I was encountering what psychologists call ecological grief or climate anxiety, but I prefer Australian philosopher Glenn Albrecht’s neologism solastalgia: deep emotional distress produced by damage to your home environment.
I believe solastalgia is a natural reaction to the reality of climate change. However, my solastalgia became so disruptive and debilitating that I couldn’t ignore it. I spoke up and reached out for help. I shared what I was going through with my colleagues, and they gave support. I called a psychologist, and took several days off work to step back from the project and let my nervous system settle.
I tried to forget about climate change. I played putt putt golf with my girlfriend. I watched some movies. I exercised. But the grief grew.
Things only changed after I went for a walk in the bushland near my home on Ngunnawal Country to practise ‘Connecting with Place’, an Aboriginal mindfulness exercise I’d learned from The Dreaming Path: Indigenous Thinking to Change Your Life by Paul Callaghan and Uncle Paul Gordon.
III — LOVE
“Love is a really important part of Aboriginal society. In some religions, they say humans are sinners born into a world of sin. That is not our way. We believe we are conceived in love and born in love…When we die, we leave in love and go back to love. Love is all around us.”
— Uncle Paul Gordon
Before I share more about my experience Connecting with Place and how Aboriginal wisdom helped me overcome solastalgia, there’s something else you should know.
I was born to Christian parents and raised from birth to believe in the Pentecostal faith. According to this worldview, God is love but humans are “sinners born into a world of sin”. I was a devout believer through my childhood and teenage years, attending church regularly, playing guitar in the worship band, organising prayer groups at my Christian school, and even completing a certificate in Bible studies.
Eventually, the Christian doctrine of Original Sin repelled me. I deconstructed my faith and left the church in my early 20s. I felt duped by Creationism, which denies evolution and says Earth is only 6,000 years old. I was done with Pentecostalism’s penchant for magical thinking, interpreting one’s own consciousness as the voice of God. I went from devout deist to devout anti-deist. This made me reactive against any kind of spirituality for a very long time. I avoided meditation for a decade because, as a secular rationalist, I had zero tolerance for woo woo. Still, despite all its faults, I appreciated the gift of growing up with community, and the sense of belonging and purpose that religious life had given me.
In 2019, I came across a quote by environmental lawyer and academic, Gus Speth, that challenged my hard rationalism. He said, “The top environmental problems are selfishness, greed and apathy…to deal with those we need a spiritual and cultural transformation, and we scientists don't know how to do that”.
This got me rethinking the role of spirituality and how it might be connected to our collective quest to arrest the climate crisis. I realised that I didn’t know nearly enough about the spiritual and cultural traditions of the lands I was born on (Wiradjuri Country) and live on (Ngunnawal Country). I read voraciously, and started connecting with local Elders.
I’m reminded of this quote by Bruce Pascoe in Country: Future Fire, Future Farming:
It is common for Australians to look elsewhere for spiritual enlightenment: we float lilies on other people’s sacred pools, climb the steps of ancient temples, pray in churches because they happen to be in Paris or Rome, but we have rarely chosen to examine the spirituality and philosophy of the world’s oldest and continuing and most sustainable culture — here, Australia.
It wasn’t until I came across The Dreaming Path that I discovered there is a standing invitation to learn about Aboriginal spirituality and philosophy extended to non-Indigenous Australians by Elders like Uncle Paul Gordon.
Uncle Paul says, “Aboriginal spirituality is here for everybody and anybody who wants to connect to their place and to their Mother, the land.” He encourages us to “care for our place and all things in our place” by “connecting with Country, walking your footsteps, and living a good story”.
Place and love are central to Aboriginal Lore and spirituality, as is story. Uncle Paul explains:
In my language we use the word Ngurrampaa. Ngurrampaa is a better way of talking about the Dreamtime. Basically, it means ‘my relationship with my place and everything in my place’. So the Lore is very much about what is my connection with everything in my place and my Country. It is about how we all connect with our place and everything in our place.
In the traditional Aboriginal world, everything — every different species, type of rock, animal, reptile and person — has a story. A story of how it came to be. When you have a story, then you also have a song, and when you have a song you also have a dance. They are all part of the one thing. By listening to the different stories and understanding their lessons, we are better able to care for our place and everything in our place and connect to The Dreaming Path.
…Every person who lives on this land has a responsibility to listen to it, understand it and care for it in accordance with the Lore [emphasis mine].
When Connecting with Place you intentionally cultivate a sense of metta or gratitude towards Nature where you are (your place) and draw strength from that connection. Paul Callaghan explains:
In our way of believing, by allowing the organic flow of nature to surround you and by letting go of the omnipresent, mechanistic rush of the Western world, you are allowing yourself to connect with the ‘inner you’, the ‘wise you’, the ‘authentic you’ that can so easily be drowned out by the noise of the ‘getting things done you’.
You are allowing yourself to connect with something much bigger than you...much older than you...much wiser than you. You are connecting with your spirit and with your family, your relatives that Mother Earth gave birth to long ago. By connecting with your spiritual family, you are engaged in a symbiotic healing process, a mutually beneficial relationship that has little cost and major benefits.
Now, we are ready to return to the story of how my breakdown triggered a breakthrough.
Having read The Dreaming Path, and also having read the science on the benefit of mindfulness and nature’s calming influence on our nervous systems, I went for a stroll across the road from my home to the foot of Galambarry (Black Mountain).
As I stood under the canopy of gum trees, I began Connecting with Place. I brought my awareness to my body and the land. As I did this, grief welled up. I sent my sadness down into the ground beneath my feet, and stood with my arms outstretched, drawing up love from the deep earth. I cried and I shook for many minutes. I didn’t fight it, I simply allowed what was arising to arise and let the emotions pass through me. It came and went in waves until, after some time, a peace descended. It felt like whatever was happening, had happened. I dropped my arms and stood breathing, dwelling on the gratitude I held for my place.
I opened my eyes. It was growing dark so I decided to return home.
My darling Florence was waiting for me at the top of our driveway. She had come to look for me, just as I returned. We hugged (she had been supporting me through this challenging period) and then, somehow, it was done.
CODA
“I dream of a world guided by a lens of stories rooted in the revelations of science and framed with an indigenous worldview — stories in which matter and spirit are given a voice.”
— Robin Wall Kimmerer
After this experience Connecting to Place, my solastalgia subsided and I was able to return to work.
Road to Resilience was completed and launched at IGCC’s annual Summit by the Assistant Climate Minister, Senator Jenny McAllister. It is now guiding increased action on climate adaptation and resilience within IGCC and our members, as well as our engagements with the Government and relevant Departments through the National Climate Risk Assessment and National Adaptation Plan.
After the strategy’s release nearly a year ago, I took to LinkedIn to share my mental health journey, because I believe in warm data and the power of story. Also, in Erwin Jackson, I am lucky to have a mentor, colleague and friend who makes space for mental health. Thank you again to the IGCC team for stepping up and picking up the slack while I had to step away.
It's important for people inside and outside the climate movement to hear about what it takes psychologically to do this work, especially as we are calling more people to join our ranks. Thus, it’s incumbent upon those of us committing our labour to support the web of life to share our coping strategies, to build our collective resilience and to maintain our perseverance. I hope my words have given you some provocation and consolation.
I also encourage everyone to read The Dreaming Path, to take steps to connect with your local Elders and to build regular community connections into your way of life.
Finally, thank you to Nathan for your work at Finding Nature, and for creating the space for sharing stories like mine.
With Love and Blessings,
Michael John Bones
21.07.2024
424.83 ppm co2e
The Inner Shift To Keep The Fire Burning - Nishtha Aggarwal
Anyone who knows Nishtha knows that she isn’t here to muck around. Passionate. Intelligent. Curious. It’s a powerful combination but also one that some might find intimidating, to their detriment. Nishtha is on a mission and is carving a path.
To persevere, we need a compelling purpose, a clear understanding of our 'why.' We live in times where the veil is lifting from the shimmering facade of capitalism. Today, it is very difficult to ignore the injustice and suffering endured by the many, which supports the comfort of a privileged few. As a descendant of the disenfranchised side of our colonial histories, I feel it is my duty to mobilise what privilege I have to fight for those still marginalised. In this context, my perseverance is less a choice and more a moral imperative.
I’ve lived most of my life in survival mode. For me, perseverance once meant relentlessly pushing uphill, tirelessly pursuing learning, gaining skills, and seeking larger platforms to make a difference. Perseverance has traditionally looked like a straight line. But, in practice, perseverance is wavy as hell - even more so for women! (Aren’t we done with straight-line models anyway?)
Now, my priorities have changed, and I want to do everything from a place of wellbeing. This shift came abruptly, borne from recent exhaustion and isolation in the relentless fight to safeguard our natural world. I’m starting to believe perseverance is fundamentally underpinned by self-care. It demands rest, introspection, taking stock, evolution, and a stronger relationship with my intuition. Taking action from this place, however small, brings me into alignment with myself, allowing me to continue the good fight. It also means extending that care beyond myself and being there for others.
I’ve persevered as far as I can on my own, and now I truly need community and collaboration. A just transition needs to make space for processing emotions and forming new connections. We need spaces that allow us to move through both the logical critique and emotional grief of what’s not working. This is work that needs to be done alone but also together. Too often, workplaces separate 2050 net-zero goals from genuine action on today’s well-being. We must be the change we wish to see, and create solutions from this place.
Persevering to create change is not an individual endeavor but a collective pursuit. We must tap into supportive communities and prioritise self-care to cultivate the resilience required to run this marathon. Together we will navigate the manifold crises, build stronger societies, regenerate nature, protect species, reverse tipping points, and leave a legacy of resilience and hope for future generations. Genuinely caring for one another and engaging with spaces that reflect our individual 'why' will enable us to persevere and build this, the future of our dreams.
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Financial risks of climate change; piranhas or red herrings?
Simultaneously described as an existential threat to civilisation's future while hundreds and thousands of organisational climate reports explain that it's not even a material financial risk this financial year in another. Leading climate risk practitioner Alexander Pui will help make sense of the disconnect and baffling divergence between what the science indicates and why it's so difficult to identify and predict with accuracy the widespread financial implications a changing climate has, is and will have on economies and societies.
Date: 7 August
Location: Surry Hills, NSW
Sydney Sustainability Speed Mentoring - Find your match!
Mentoring is regularly referred to by many very successful people to be of critical importance to them in how they've managed to be successful. So, do you have your mentor, or just hoping one will fall out of the sky at some point? Join Greenfluence, Altiorem and Regenerate Talent for a night where you can finally find yours. Professionals from across the spectrum of sustainability, ESG and social impact are invited to take the plunge in finding their (forever) special professional guide.
Date: 22 August
Location: Chippendale, NSW
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