Climate Anxiety Counseling in Burnside Park/Kennedy Plaza!

I’ve finally figured out the schedule for my Climate Anxiety Counseling shifts in Burnside Park, opposite Kennedy Plaza in downtown Providence–the original site of the booth and one of my favorite places to do it.

Come talk to me 11am-2pm* on…

May 23-26

May 29-June 1

June 5-6

June 8-9

June 12-16

I’ll also be there on June 7, but the time may be different because of other things that are happening that day.

Thanks as always to Jen Smith and the Downtown Providence Parks Conservancy for hosting me here. I walked into Jen’s office like, “So I have this idea,” four years ago and she’s been solidly supportive of it ever since.

*This is unusual and inconvenient, I know. It’s because I watch my friend’s kid on Tuesday/Thursday afternoons now. If you can never make it at that time of day, come see me on Wednesdays 2-6 at the Sankofa Market, starting on June 20th!

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Climate Anxiety Counseling TOMORROW at the Sustain PVD Fair!

I’m offering Climate Anxiety Counseling at the Sustain PVD Fair tomorrow, 10-12 and 2-4. It’s at the Southside Cultural Center, 393 Broad St., in Providence.

Before or after you talk with me, you can sign up for a solar evaluation, learn how to make a building more energy efficient, hear from the Racial & Environmental Justice Committee about Providence’s plan to be carbon-neutral by 2050. All of that is free; talking to me costs 5 cents; the composting workshop and rain barrel workshop have fees in the $30-$35 range. (If you want to do these and can’t afford them, please get in touch with me at my gmail address, publiclycomplex, or in the comment section, or just come talk to me at the counseling booth tomorrow.)

Another good reason to come to this is that it’s a way to meet other humans who want to work toward a livable human presence in our ecosystem. One of the things that often frustrates me about Climate Anxiety Counseling is the one-on-one-ness of its interactions: people aren’t using the booth to meet each other or explore the possibilities of working together. Coming to Sustain PVD may help to set you on that road.

 

Sankofa World Market at Southside Cultural Center, 5/5/18

Weather: Bright, breezy, a perfect day to be outside

Number of people: 7 stoppers, 1 walkby, 1 bikeby

Number of hecklers: 0!

Pages of notes: 6.5

People who recognized the Peanuts reference: 1

Photos taken with permission: 2

Dogs seen: 1

Dogs pet: 0

Money raised for Environmental Justice League of RI: $0.10

 

Observations:

The Sankofa World Market will be at the Southside Cultural Center on the first Saturday of every month as part of Sowing Place. This was the first of these; the next will be June 2nd.

I count someone as a “stopper” if they have a multi-sentence conversation with me, whether or not it functions as a “session” and whether or not they give me permission to post our conversation here (I only post conversations if I ask for and receive permission). A “walkby” or “bikeby” comments but doesn’t stop. This time, I only had two postable conversations, but a lot of people marked the map of Rhode Island with places they’d like to protect (see below).

A theme of the day was isolation—which is both a reason I started the booth and something it’s only medium-good at responding to—and the need to practice communication.

Nonhuman animals spotted: mockingbird, bumblebee, someone singing whose voice I should know but didn’t, pigeons in various configurations, cabbage white butterfly, a small flying insect (not biting) unknown to me, a couple of swallows high up at the very beginning.

 

Some conversations:

My main anxiety about climate change is related to sea level rise, and what it means to live in a coastal community that’s already had major sea level rise in the past. In Olneyville, you get a perfect storm of high tide and full moon and rainfall and the banks of the Woonasquatucket just wash over. I get some hope from the way people pull together when these things happen, but we shouldn’t need a crisis to pull together.

How do you feel when you think about these things?

I don’t want to keep thinking about it. You know you need to, but you don’t want to, so you push it away. I try to sort of stick my finger in the wound every once in a while so it doesn’t close up—answers may emerge over time if you don’t let it disappear.

And what do you do when you think about it?

Some of the smaller things. I take small actions to mitigate my own impact. Even if it’s not appreciable on a seismic scale, it makes you feel better, like, “At least I didn’t drive today.”

Is it also part of the stuff you do with other people, have you made it part of the collective stuff you do?

I feel like in the collective stuff I do it’s more of a constant undercurrent. Like on the board of the public library, we’re talking about how the building could be underwater, and how do you build all the systems that go into a building so they’re not destroyed? I feel like it’s moved into a place of acknowledging the inevitability and doing new thinking about how to respond to it, rather than denial. But denial is a comfortable place to be in, in some ways … How in the things I’m involved with with racial justice does climate justice play a part? How does that always have to include the injustice of climate change? Like this LNG facility, and whose neighborhood is most at risk. It’s not one of the things that you’re always gonna hear me bring up, but I’m always excited when someone else does.

… I think the shift from “global warming” to “climate change” is helpful. And I think that creative people have an important part to play in our conception of the terms, to put pressure on how we’re thinking about it. That’s what I admired so much about Holly Ewald’s work [with UPP Arts], how she’s like, “I’m an artist but I’m also a researcher and I’m a convener. How can I bring other people to this and not just bring it into my [artistic] practice?” … And then as someone with access to resources and how they’re dispersed, how can I support, spot, amplify what others are doing? Contribute to the thing, whatever the thing looks like?

What are some things you’d like to contribute to?

I think–people coming together in intergenerational spaces to build trust and vulnerability. It’s hard to find an affinity around a negative, like fighting something we don’t want—what are we fighting for that we do want?

What would you want to come out of these spaces?

I guess policy is the thing, but local? I feel really paralyzed by a lot of what comes out of the national level, like if the EPA decides it’s just going to take all the regulations off polluting vehicles. And like, what California does on the local level has a much bigger effect than anything we could do. But if we could be part of a groundswell in New England—that’s another kind of collectivity. These nested scales, like people thinking about these questions together, then taking that to the civic and municipal level, the state level—I’m more and more drawn to going block by block than trying to make change in Washington.

*

I’m worried about the soil. It gets more and more acidic all the time. I’m worried about neighborhoods in low-lying places, and I really worried that people are sort of isolated, so if disasters happen we won’t be prepared to take care of each other. If the communication technology that we use gets broken down, especially, I’m afraid we won’t know how to work together. I’m also worried about drought. When I’m farming, my anxiety has to do with what I’m seeing on the farm—unpredictable weather patterns stress me out more. I always thought the longer I farmed, the better I’d get at knowing the pattern, that I’d become someone who can predict weather. Now I’ve been farming for ten years, and it’s more like I’m just more in touch with the chaos. I have a bigger record of how much things have gotten wacky. I started out thinking that farmers were kind of a repository for climate patterns, but we’re just repositories for climate anxiety.

… I have found that paying that close attention also results in observing lots of moments of resilience. Seeing plants under insane conditions thrive—I’ve become more sensitive to wild plants that live in the city. And I know that a lot of them are medicinal, so that makes me happy. There are a few plant buddies that inspire me in particular. Mullein—it’s good for the lungs, and it often grows along the highway, so it’s like it’s the lungs of the highway. And St. John’s wort is abundant in the city, and that’s for depression. I’ve been learning a lot about plant medicine lately and the idea that plants pop up where we need them—partly because my dad is depressed, but also, there’s a pervading sense of anxiety on the planet, and I’ve been realizing that it doesn’t work to cure depression by saying, “It’s gonna get better.” We need a different set of mantras, and plants suggest some—the way plants grow in community.

…Right now I’m my dad’s main connection to the world. And as much as the farm teaches me about the compassionate end of things, it’s different and almost criminal to apply that to my own father. But another thing I do at the farm is let plants and animals pursue their own life cycles, and just try to create conditions that hopefully allow things to thrive, or mitigate the pressures—if it’s a drought, I try to water things. One of the big lessons that plants have for us is reciprocity—there are no sacrificing plants, or martyr plants, although when a tree is dying it shoves its resources down through the mycelium layer so that other plants can use them.

I’ve been learning, when I’m feeling a need, to ask for help. This is kind of what we were talking about at the beginning of this conversation, having the communication patterns in place to support each other. If we practice that in our major or minor crises in our private lives, maybe we’ll be better at it in an environmental crisis. I’ve also been trying to receive care by creating the gatherings that feed me, and going to the gatherings that other people create. I always forget that because I think, “Oh, I need quiet time.” … I’ve been yearning for clarity on what the role of artists is in the moment. I feel in myself that poets have an essential role, in documenting, in mitigating, in envisioning—but it’s not everyday-obvious to me.

20180505_143308

Description: This (somewhat impressionistic) map of the state of Rhode Island says, “Put your worries on the map,” at the top, and “Is there a place in Rhode Island you’d like to protect?” at the bottom. People have written:

I wish the water in Roger Williams Park was clean enough for wading/swimming by the bandstand

Trinity Sq Neighborhood!

SCC [Southside Community Center] RI

Waterman St dog park

Sabins Point

Scituate Reservoir

Lincoln State Park

Little Compton

Two children have also drawn on the map, and one of them has written, “No LNG in PVD or anywhere. Take care of our ancestors.”

And We’re Back! Climate Anxiety Counseling at the Sankofa World Market, TOMORROW

The Sankofa Market is kicking off an indoor incarnation at the Southside Cultural Center the first Saturday of every month, starting tomorrow, and I will be there to offer climate anxiety counseling to friends and strangers. Come and share your climate-change-related and other anxieties, learn about opportunities for action, and take home a piece of art to keep.

393 Broad St, 11-3pm. The booth is raggedy! Sometime between now and tomorrow I need to make at least 10 drawings of nonhuman Rhode Islanders! My hat doesn’t fit over my hair anymore! Come and see me!

Climate Anxiety Counseling: Sankofa World Market, 8/30/17

Weather: Sun & clouds, fresh. No need for sunbrella.

Number of people: 8 stoppers, 1 walkby.

Number of hecklers: 0!

Pages of notes: 8

People who recognized me, and I them, from previous sessions: 4

Dogs seen: 4

Dogs pet: 2

Money raised for Environmental Justice League of RI: $0.05

 

Observations:

Today was my last day at this market this season. A major theme of the day was the need for structural action, and for personal conversations as a path to that, and I think that’s a good theme to end the season on. Watch this space for more about that path.

Mobile nonhuman organisms seen and heard: cabbage white butterfly, small ant crawling on notebook (which I killed), sparrows, cicadas in trees, crickets in bushes, pigeons in the clear light sky and a bug that an interlocutor removed from my shoulder for me.

The Food4Good free meal truck saw a lot of action today. If you have some money to spare, consider sharing it with them.

 

Some conversations:

Any new anxieties since I saw you last?

I hate the world more. I don’t know if that counts as anxiety. That’s what I like about [TOWN]–my girlfriend and I are living in the woods out there. I don’t come around here anymore. My girlfriend got hooked on heroin down here, I’d get jumped every now and then ’cause I’m homeless, you wake up and your bag is gone, your stuff is gone. In [TOWN], nobody bothers us, we’re the only ones there. We work the off-ramps. I’m up here because I got picked up by the cops for unpaid fines. I was in the ACI and now I have to go back there and get my stuff—my blankets, bus pass, my clothes, my wallet.

We get corn, tomatoes, put ’em on the fire—we make a fire out of just brush and leaves. Sometimes people give us cases of food. Lotta granola bars. Someone gave us a five-pound block of cheese, but there’s only so much of that you can eat, we had to throw some out. If you go to Taco Bell at 4am, they’re getting rid of stuff.

I’m a country boy. I grew up on a 27-acre farm. That got repossessed, foreclosed on, that’s why I’m homeless. We’re the only ones out there, me and my girlfriend. We’re not trying to set the world on fire. Sometimes we sleep in a graveyard, a graveyard’s nice and peaceful. If we make enough to take a day off work, we’ll go to the ocean. We’d rather be freezing our butts off together than apart.

What are you thinking for the winter?

If it’s cold cold we head over to [REDACTED]. They have these steam pipes—you put cardboard down, then a blanket over, and then we sweat. You can do better with panhandling in the winter because people feel sorry for you.

*

I’d think there would be more need now. Not necessarily climate-related, but [people] got other anxieties. Half the people like the job that the anxiety is doing—most of the people I spend time around are Trump supporters.

What are they like?

They tend to be mostly Caucasian. Some of them are people who voted for Obama—maybe they just go wherever the wind is blowing, whoever gets buzz is who they jump on. Unanimously, people who dislike him are people who pay more attention to what’s going on…

…I still have the [RI organism] card you gave me. I believe it was a plant. I come here [to the market] once a year, when I get the free voucher from the senior center. If I had more money I would come more often. I don’t fault any of the small farms—they’re doing what they’re doing to make a living. But a lot of people around here are working with convenience meals. And the end of the month is a bad time.

*

That’s funny. I mean, “funny.”

Do you want to do it?

Sure. My anxiety is that it’s out of anyone’s control at this point. Like is it too far gone? When you see things like the flood [in Houston]–I don’t know if it’s that I’m worried. It’s depressing and terrifying.

What are you afraid of?

Survival. The future. That’s the last question, I don’t want to talk anymore.

Okay.

No, you can ask me questions. One more.

You’re talking about the future, being afraid of the future. What about the present?

We can only change the present, so we do what we can. That’s a good question.

*

How much of this do you think we’re really confronting, as opposed to just verbalizing?

Confronting how? Like, in our perceptions, or in our actions?

There could be many verbs—challenge, disrupt. Making it uncomfortable, taking it out of our experience, our comfort zone. There’s certainly something about talking about stuff, unloading what’s on your mind or your heart, but is there another step to take it into personal action, social action, justice action? There are a few points in clinical work and therapy, ideas and systems [that acknowledge that] everything happens in relationship to everything else. Real change doesn’t come until there’s change in the system. Do you do that, and how, and still maintain friendships so you’re not throwing people aside? … There’s therapy that brings people to action and then there’s therapy that helps people maintain where they are. The goal is not necessarily to gain more mastery or to hold onto what we are. How do we in this state of dynamic flux hold onto what we have, which is maybe a myth? How do we handle what’s there so it doesn’t apoliticize, a-seek change for us? If we are always changing and growing, why are we always holding on, instead of stepping forward and taking risks?

*

I’m really worried about global warming. It seems really clear that it’s gonna be a problem for everybody, and nobody’s doing anything about it, and I can’t—I can reduce my carbon footprint, but I feel disillusioned about it, because it’s not gonna make a difference as long as the larger structural things don’t change. It’s more than Trump—his predecessors didn’t do any better. They took some steps but it’s still a mess. And I’m sitting in this privileged country, I’ve enjoyed the benefits—do I get to say, “No no, Africa, no no, Asia, you can’t enjoy life”?

How do you feel when you think about this?

I’m gonna have to think about that. Sometimes I’m just like, “The earth will survive.” I’m not that tied to the human race. I’d prefer that we don’t blow the place up—then the next species to take over will do what they do. But that doesn’t help me know what I want to be doing now.

Climate Anxiety Counseling TODAY at the Sankofa World Market, 2-6pm!

Today is my last day this season at the Sankofa World Market, and I hope you’ll come visit me there between 2 and 6pm today. I have some beautiful drawings of Rhode Island organisms to share, and I want to hear what you’re worrying about.

I had hoped to continue at Sankofa through September, but I can’t do that, keep my other promises, and remain reasonably well, so I’m calling it early.  (I might do one more session at the Armory Park Farmer’s Market later in September.) Please come and visit me today.

Climate Anxiety Counseling: Armory Park Farmers’ Market, 8/24/17

Weather: Temperate, with clouds and sun, cool toward the end

Number of people: 10 stoppers, no walkbys that I noticed

Number of hecklers: 0!

Pages of notes: 7

People who recognized me, and I them, from previous booth sessions: 3

Dogs seen: 23

Dogs pet: 4

Money raised for Environmental Justice League of RI: $0.60

 

Observations:

Still didn’t line up an interpreter. Bad move on my part, and not fair. A friend who also works at the Sankofa World Market says that he can do it next time if it’s a language he knows.

I was in a different spot than my last time at this market—in the shade, over by the busiest vendor.

I had a long conversation with someone that I didn’t get permission to record. She came back with an apple: “’Cause you helped me out with some advice so I’m helping you out with something to eat.”

Two girls added their houses to the map, and a grandma marked the park itself and talked with me about dog attacks and plums. She came back to show me the plums in her walker compartment. And a little boy added a number 1. When I saw him pointing it out to his parents, I held up one finger and he did it back.

 

Some conversations:

I actually had a very bad day with climate anxieties last week. Too much New York Times and spending too much time on Twitter. A lot of doom and gloom, a lot of false insistence that the end is very very near.

What happens when you read things like that?

I get scared instantly, and I dive into it one thousand percent. A whole day is lost. It’s hopelessness coupled with an underlying desire/understanding of—it’s harder to live amidst the changing world rather than be like, “It’s all over.” It is way way harder to imagine the world not ending than the world ending.

What do you imagine it being like—the world not ending?

Things getting materially really difficult for a large number of people. It’ll probably include a lot of geopolitical conflict over who gets what resources and who is allowed to go where in light of restricted ability to [inhabit] certain areas. We’ll have to fight people who are trying to claim resources and then sell them back to us.

And what do you see yourself doing in this world?

That’s a harder question to answer. I’m moving to LA next month. I grew up there … In a locally specific way, LA was built on making a grab for resources. It exists the way it does because someone was like, “We can bring water here.” I’m thinking of focusing in on that as a site of action, while trying to keep an eye on everything else. In focusing in on one area, there’s this inherent feeling of failure that you’re not doing anything in all the other areas.

Is there a way to combat that?

I guess talking to people working in those other fields and understanding what’s on the horizon. More reading, more conversation. It also helps when I think that this earth was around before us and it will be around after us. But it hurts a ton. It’s just hard—and it’s hard to grieve for something that’s in progress.

*

I’m worried about coastal communities. I’m a geology student, and we used StormTools —you know about that?–to do a project on Misquamicut Beach. It’s gonna be gone very soon. It’s really concerning to me–it doesn’t seem like anyone is that panicked about it, and we should be. Down there, there are a lot of second homes, vacation homes, but there’s also lower middle class communities, people who can’t afford to pick up and move, and those houses are gonna be worth nothing.

Do you feel like people know about this?

I’m only aware of this because it’s a big topic in geology. The general public is not well informed. I went to that talk on gentrification, and the guy was like, “Who’s heard of StormTools?” and when people put their hands up, he was like, “Now everybody who’s a professional, put your hands down,” and I was the only one who kept mine up.

Is it hard to use?

The labels are kind of confusing. People wouldn’t necessarily know the abbreviations. It could be cool to have a workshop on it at the library. And I would love to do one on energy, with this rate hike.

*

I read the article that everybody read— “Here’s all the horrible things that are gonna happen.” All my friends texted me, and I texted everyone. Everyone was just like, “There’s nothing to do. None of us should plan for the future.” But then I talked to my girlfriend’s dad about it, he’s a climate scientist and a lawyer, and he was like, “It’s gonna be fine.” But he’s into engineering climate science so that everyone can continue not changing their behavior. He’s into nuclear energy. I don’t know if I believe him

… I’m thinking about where I wanna live. My partner’s buying a house—do I stay here and help her paint the bathroom? Maybe the best thing she can be doing is running a cooperative house and keeping the rent really cheap. And then I read another article that was like, “Do not move to New York if you’re a white person with a college degree, we don’t need any more of you.” But that’s another question: where are people going?

*

I’m always moving too fast. They call me “the turbo.” When I start a job, I’m anxious until I finish it, and what I don’t like is I don’t get the same treatment back. Someone else will do it, but it doesn’t come fast enough out. It’s always a fight– “You don’t move as fast as I do, so I think you don’t want to.” It’s not as important to them.

*

It seems like everyone I know is getting seriously ill. My mother had breast cancer, and I’m convinced that much of it’s environmental.

Are you worried that it might come back?

All the time. Everytime something goes on [with her health] that’s my first thought. And then I was supposed to hang out with a friend today, but she called me and she was like, “I can’t, I’m panicking, I got bad news from my doctor.” All I know is she has to go for tests.

Yeah, the uncertainty–

–adds a whole extra level. Each piece of news get worse. With my mom, I got to the point where I dreaded taking her to appointments, and even though it’s been four years, you drop back into it. It’s like emotional anaphylactic shock … It felt ubiquitous for a while. I’m also getting older, so things like this are happening more.

How do you respond during these times, what do you do?

I guess I just try to be helpful. With my mom it was a different thing. With friends, I try to help on the day to day. Making food, that’s always good. Walking dogs. Checking in if they need to talk.

And how do you deal with it for yourself?

Doing what I can to help people helps me deal with it. I’m also glad I have the job that I have. With my mom, I did not take care of myself in a lot of ways, it wasn’t just the cancer, she had a nervous breakdown and I had to take care of her, but in Rhode Island we have TDI. So I talked to a doctor to get time off work, and I would not have been able to continue doing it without that.

Climate Anxiety Counseling: Sankofa Word Market, 8/23/17

Weather: Warm bright, breezy.

Number of people: 6 stoppers, no walkbys.

Number of hecklers: 0!

Pages of notes: 7

People who recognized me, and I them, from previous sessions: 3

Conversations at the booth between people who didn’t know each other before: 1

Dogs seen: 4

Dogs pet: 1

Tiny calico kittens seen and coveted: 1

Money raised for Environmental Justice League of RI: $1.00

 

Observations:

In a new spot, by the front steps, so that more people can see me and maybe come over. I think it’s helping—although my numbers aren’t yet up from last week.

I need to remember to ask returning people, “Any new anxieties?” as well as chatting and catching up.

Sometimes I see or hear somebody wonder about the sign to themselves or to the person they’re with as they walk by. Not sure if I get to feel good about this, or any of it.

A rat ran right into my feet! Other nonhuman RI organisms: a cabbage white butterfly, a huge dragonfly, all the usual grasses and microorganisms and flowerbed flowers and the maple tree, and a crickets singing off and on in the flowerbed close by.

Cooking demo today: Higher Ground bused in about 20 women, mostly older, dressed in prints and headwraps or in sweaters and skirts. They made a very beautiful procession as a younger volunteer delicately and gently helped those who needed help get from the bus to the ground.

 

Some conversations:

I don’t have my purse with me because I have a[n injured] nerve in my shoulder. A couple of years ago I had a ruptured disc and two herniated discs, and I had surgery for that, and the pain’s developing in my other shoulder. And I don’t have health insurance. I missed the open enrollment, but it seems to me that if should cost more if you sign up outside open enrollment, not that you can’t get it. They’re a business–they should want you to have health insurance! It’s the law to have health insurance!

*

 

 

 

Person 1: [When] I was in school, they took me to the science museum at the Omni Theater. I been a Big Dipper and a Little Dipper fan ever since. … No matter what state I’m in I’m always looking at what the sky is doing.

[Person 2 comes up and I explain what we’re doing.]

Person 1: Mr. Gore, Senator Gore, he’s talking about global warming, the effects of global warming. I’m sure there’s a lot of effects. The earth is mainly water—with glaciers melting at an alarming rate, the land is gonna be washed away. … I’m also thinking about [Hurricane] Katrina—the dam and the water and how much impact it had on everyone. I’ve started taking a lot of notice about stuff like repairing our bridges—[a lot of them] are faulty or falling apart.

Person 2: Everybody is basically overwhelmed with everything that’s been going on. I haven’t really been sleeping at night.

Person 1: I hear a lot of people worrying about the state of affairs.

Person 2: It’s everywhere. The work that I do encompasses not only being in this state, in this country—it’s across the globe. All this that we hear, all this rhetoric causing division—the President should be uniting people.

Person 1: That’s not his M.O. The US knew what they were doing … I think he told all his rich friends, “I can be the President!” and now he is and he doesn’t know what to do. I think he’s trying to get impeached.

Person 2: Purposely! This is a man with two tongues—that’s a proverb, a man who says one thing, then he says another, then he does something else, like a snake.

*

Oh my God, the Trump thing is horrible. The fact that he’s pulled out of [the Paris] agreement is very discouraging, but cities and states are saying that they’ll stay in it, and that’s encouraging. I’ve seen journalists say that they’re not even reporting on the news, they’re just trying to see if there’s anything behind what he said. He’s just making it worse—the North Korea thing, the Paris agreements. Now he’s saying he won’t pass this budget unless it has money for his wall [between Mexico and the US].

*

[This is someone I know, mainly through the booth and the neighborhood, who’s talked with me several times.]

I spent the first years of my life in Greenland. My dad was in the service, and he worked at the refueling base at Narsarsuaq, on the southernmost tip—planes had started to be able to carry more fuel, but there were still older planes in the air that needed to refuel. I have pictures of myself in Narsarsuaq, standing on an airfield. So I have feelings about Greenland, and when I realize how much melt there is and what’s happening, I feel personally affected. It’s a place I lived, it’s the place where I started my life. It’s a real place to me—I have lots of stories from my folks about what it was like. …I don’t want to see it deteriorate or turn into something that I wouldn’t recognize.

 

Climate Anxiety Counseling: Sankofa World Market, 8/16/17

Weather: Hot and bright, with some help from big puffy clouds

Number of people: 7 stoppers, 1 walkby

Number of hecklers: 0!

Pages of notes: 6

People who recognized the Peanuts reference: 1

People who recognized me, and I them, from previous booth sessions: 2

Dogs seen: 2

Dogs pet: 1

Money raised for Environmental Justice League of RI: $0.05

 

NOTE: As I type this, the Houston area is undergoing terrible flooding in the wake of Hurricane Harvey. Their emergency services are at capacity. Please watch this space in the coming days for how to get money and other resources to people there. One to start with: Portlight serves people with disabilities during and after disasters like these. There’s a donation button at the bottom of that page.

 

Observations:

A cop car drove by with flashers, no siren, at 2:23.

I took a break at 3:15 to buy blueberries, goya/bitter melon (the official vegetable of Climate Anxiety Counseling), collards and cilantro. I ate the blueberries while sitting at the booth. They were very good.

Two small girls added “The Pool” and some art to the map of places they’d like to protect. One of them likes to step in and one of them likes to jump in. The one who likes to step in says she’s afraid of sharks and the water is cold. Another child added “I love my house and my mom” to the map. Later, a little boy came up and asked about the map, and after I explained it, he said thoughtfully, “So if someone put the pool it means like not to dirty it. And somebody put their mom’s house so no bad guys come there.”

I have to get better at not crying when the conversation is about what should or needs to be done.

 

Some conversations:

My background is in environmental issues, but I’m not working on climate directly, and I feel really guilty about that.

Why aren’t you?

‘Cause I took this job. There weren’t jobs directly related to climate in this area, and my family’s here. When I hear about issues about climate in the news, or talk with other people who are working on it, I have that jealousy. What do I want to have accomplished in my life? Before, I worked on mountaintop removal mining–“stop the bad thing.” Now I’m looking for action happening at the city and state level. It’s hard for me to even imagine working in the private sector, so it’s got to be government or non profit.

What are you good at?

I’m good at synthesizing. Thinking big, putting information together, making sense of it. Research, writing, learning how to manage things and people, which is actually really hard. I’m good at learning new things …

… I get mad at myself for not getting involved.

*

 

I’m waiting to get my account done so I can get my car and go to work again. If that don’t work, I’ll go out in the middle of the road and never buy a watch. It was a year ’cause they did the claim—I got the car, got my license renewed…What’s impressive is that I don’t just jump.

*

 

Have you heard grownups talking about climate change?

Yeah, on the news. I’m gonna go to the Caribbean.

If it happens?*

Yeah, I’m gonna ask my grandma to take me. She lives in Florida, but that’s where she’s from.

 

*Doctor’s note: In retrospect, I realize that this was a really unhelpful, not to say dumbass, way for me to put it.