Navigating forests and other emotional landscapes

By Sarah Brown

Recently, I had the privilege of leading a group of enthusiastic and bright undergraduate business students on a transformative five-day leadership expedition through the wilderness of Kananaskis, Alberta, Canada. As an outdoor educator with over two decades of experience guiding in the Rocky Mountains, this journey was reminiscent of countless other trips. Yet it was distinctly different in one poignant aspect — the very forest we traversed, for five awe-inspiring days, is destined to be clear-cut over the next year. The question that weighed heavily on my mind throughout the expedition was how to inspire these students to fall in love with a forest destined for imminent destruction and more broadly, how to balance their experience of love and grief as they take on business leadership roles in these uncertain times.

In line with typical outdoor leadership courses, our students were entrusted with real-time leadership roles, complete with real consequences. On the very first day, they faced the challenge of locating the trailhead using only a map and compass. Despite my encouragement to trust the map and their navigational skills, we found ourselves meandering along a dusty logging road amid the constant rumble of large trucks. The unexpected industrial activity and human-made alterations not marked on the map left us bewildered. As we eventually discovered the trail, a sense of disquiet lingered within us all, an unsettling premonition of what lay ahead for this region.

Teaching about the ecological crisis presents educators with a daunting task. We must strike a delicate balance between conveying the gravity and urgency of the situation while nurturing a sense of hope and optimism. Our aim is to engage not only their intellect but also their hearts and ultimately to spur change and action towards a more life-sustaining world³. We want our students to have a deep love and appreciation for the natural world, but is it fair to ask them to fall in love with a forest that will soon be gone?

As we trekked through the wilderness that first day, our bodies bore the heat and dust from the exposed logging road. Relief came when we stumbled upon the cool, crystalline waters of a mountain creek. With heads submerged and spirits rejuvenated, we began to feel truly immersed in the wild, temporarily liberated from the demands of urban life. I contemplated whether it was an appropriate time to discuss the logging activity we had witnessed, a stark reminder that the forest nurturing us would soon vanish. Yet, I hesitated, contemplating what purpose would such a reminder of grief serve at that moment? So, we kept the conversation light, passed around pepperoni and cheese, and delved into discussions about creek-crossing techniques as we pressed onward along the trail.

We arrived at the first camp later than we expected due in part to our confusing start. As the students pitched their tents, prepared their first meal, and savoured hot chocolate brewed from creek water, they began to embrace the joys of companionship and the simple pleasures of a pristine landscape. To my surprise, some students later confessed to lingering feelings of unease stemming from the logging activity we had witnessed. With the door open to the experience, I delicately facilitated a discussion about sustainability and ecological grief, as we collectively tried to make sense of this experience.

Over the course of the expedition, discussions about ecological grief deepened, perhaps mirroring the students’ growing attachment to the land. They noted that witnessing development firsthand had shifted their perspective on environmental issues, making them feel more connected to the environmental cost of development than they do when discussing such topics in the classroom. The conversations extended beyond the academic realm, bridging the gap between distant crises and their immediate reality, and bridging the often-wider gap between the head and the heart. Bathing in the beauty of the lush forest and mountain streams while witnessing the industrial activity creep into the wilderness, enhanced both the experience of the beauty and the grief.

As the expedition drew to an end, the sharing circles revealed a newfound appreciation for the land, a deepening sense of self, and new confidence in their individual and collective leadership skills. Students continued to share a heightened sense of connection to environmental issues that arose from witnessing the beginning of the clear-cut activity at the trailhead. While I resisted this reminder at the beginning of the trip, it now seemed like a critical part of their experience and one that reminds us of the important role of grief on the road to sustainability. We have to embrace the grief and loss of the forest as much as we have to continue to foster a deep love and appreciation for it. As such, we must grow our individual and collective capacity and skills as outdoor and environmental educators to help our students and ourselves navigate the complex terrain of grief.

The recipe for addressing ecological grief in a manner that acknowledges our pain for the world while mobilizing it into positive action may vary across contexts and groups. However, it appears to involve a dance of experiencing both the innate beauty of the land and witnessing the destructive impact of human activities. Discussing potential solutions is crucial for breading optimism and hope, but this must be tempered with an understanding and appreciation of the intricate complexities inherent in the issues of planetary health. Quick and easy fixes are often as unsustainable as asking our students to linger in a place of constant crises. We have to equip them for a lifelong commitment to addressing the ecological crisis. Our resolve to face and feel grief whenever it arises must be a practice that is both tenacious and sustainable, so be gentle on yourself when you seek to escape the discomfort but steadfast in your determination to return to it with courage throughout your life.

The precise mixture of grief and hope required to effectively address the myriad of planetary health challenges that we face and to restore right relations with the earth, often feels mysterious and at times elusive. I do not profess to have the formula for mobilizing grief into action, however this trip reminded me that we cannot summon the motivation for change without first confronting the grief over the rapidly vanishing world and the forests we may never traverse again. I was reminded that validating my students’ experiences of eco-grief starts with my own understanding of the concept and its growing body of research and tools kits. It also hinges on my personal courage to face my grief and on sharpening my tools and capacity to mobilize grief into action. Discussing eco-grief is always easier in a supportive and nurturing community context, like the one we created on this trip, especially when you are immersed in the beauty of the natural world. Seeking people to have deep, supportive conversations about eco-grief and finding solace in natural spaces whenever you can, are common pieces of advise from many experts in this field. In those moments when the grief is big and the outlook is bleak, remember that the future has not been written yet and focus on those things that you can control. Be creative and courageous in your imaginings of solutions.

It is easy to fall in love with a forest, but it is harder to process the grief that arises when you witness the building of roads getting ready to carry it away on logging trucks. The mighty forest we traversed felt both powerful and fragile, mirroring our own struggle to balance vulnerability with resilience and grief with hope.  I suspect that our experiences of the beauty of the natural world and our grief over how humans are impacting it will get closer together in timing and proximity. It is tempting to want to bathe in the beauty and ignore the grief, but as educators, we must help our students navigate through the wilderness of emotional grief as much as we help them navigate the physical trails.

Eco-grief interventions demand a nuanced approach, one that is tailored to the age of the individuals involved. Youth are particularly vulnerable to climate anxiety, and an excessive focus on grief and environmental disasters may yield more negative outcomes than positive ones. Youth educators carry the added responsibility of skillfully choosing age-appropriate climate awareness education while helping youth navigate their heightened levels of eco-grief and anxiety. Although the emphasis for youth educators must be on play, joy, and enchantment with the natural world to help build the resilience that they will need for a lifetime of navigating ecological anxiety and grief, skillful interventions when eco-grief arises can help support youth on their journey.

I hope my adult students remember the feelings of grief that arose in witnessing the impact of the industrial activity as much as they remember the beauty of the forest we hiked through, because together those experiences may lead to a more connected understanding of what is at risk when they make leadership decisions about the future. As an educator my hope often resides in my students, the future leaders of our world. My hope is that their time in the forest struck the perfect balance between love and grief and reality and optimism, a balance that we all must hold as we venture forth on the trails that we have left.

Sarah Brown is an outdoor educator and an Assistant Professor at Mount Royal University in Calgary, Alberta. She is passionate about connecting people with the natural world through education, play, and a deep sense of reverence and responsibility for our planet.

Endnotes

1. Clayton, S., & Karazsia, B. T. (2020). Development and validation of a measure of climate change anxiety. Journal of Environmental Psychology, 69, 101434. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jenvp.2020.101434

2. Hickman, C., Marks, E., Pihkala, P., Clayton, S., Lewandowski, R. E., Mayall, E. E., Wray, B., Mellor, C., & van Susteren, L. (2021). Climate anxiety in children and young people and their beliefs about government responses to climate change: a global survey. The Lancet. Planetary Health, 5(12), e863–e873. https://doi.org/10.1016/S2542-5196(21)00278-3

3. Macy, J., Brown, M., & McIntosh, D. (2014). Coming back to life: the updated guide to the work that reconnects. New Society Publishers.

Resources

1. Canadian Parks, Protected and Conserved Areas Leadership Collective (CPPCL) Ecogrief Resource Page. https://www.cppcl.ca/ecogrief/

2. Exploring Climate Change and Mental Health, an educational toolkit by Natania Abebe https://pressbooks.bccampus.ca/eccmh/

3. How to talk to kids about climate change: David Suzuki Foundation One Nature, https://davidsuzuki.org/living-green/how-to-talk-to-kids-about-climate-change/

4. Aviva Fialkow and Sasha Lavoie, Eco-grief: How to cope with the emotional impacts of climate change. University of Calgary Campus Mental Health Strategy, September 19, 2023. https://ucalgary.ca/news/eco-grief-how-cope-emotional-impacts-climate-change

5. Jennifer W. Atkinson, Ph.D. https://www.drjenniferatkinson.com/

6. Joanna Macy, https://www.joannamacy.net/main