Ecological Trauma: A Guide to Understanding Eco-Trauma
I recently came across an article in the Economist, of all places, entitled, “Shamanism is Britain’s fastest-growing religion”.
The article itself is not impressive (Shamanism is a religion? Um, no.), but it does share an interesting hypothesis:
People are increasingly returning to nature-based spirituality because of the existential threats facing our earth.
How interesting. Shamanism and other nature-based spiritual practices arose at a time when humans lived in partnership with the Earth. Now, after centuries of separating ourselves from the natural world, humans are waking up to the fact that the more we distance ourselves from the Earth, the more we distance ourselves from life itself.
Those of us who deeply love our Earth often feel a complex, ongoing, and even subconscious traumatic response to the immense pain humans have inflicted upon the planet and her inhabitants.
We feel grief — at the harm done to the Earth, the animals, the plants, waters, mountains, and more at the will of humans.
We feel rage — at all the ways our current environmental crises could have been prevented, at how many obstacles we still face to get even the most basic protections in place.
We feel guilt — for being part of the human species, for having to live in ways that cause more harm simply by existing within our society.
We feel pain — as empaths whose energy bodies do not separate the Earth’s pain from our own.
We feel numb — because continuing to stay open and aware can be too much for our hearts to bear.
These are strong emotions. And as difficult as it is to feel this much grief, rage, guilt, and pain, there is power in these feelings.
Emotions are charged with energy — and all energy is usable energy.
The question then becomes, how will you alchemize your grief into hope? Your rage into healing?
Living with the Effects of Ongoing Ecological Trauma
Before we jump into transmuting our pain, we must acknowledge what is true now: Humans are collectively traumatized. The existential ecological threats facing our species reside in all of our consciousnesses.
The word “trauma” has become astonishingly pervasive in our current cultural narratives, with many voices contributing nuanced definitions of what was once a more specific psychological term. Here are a few key components that I consider when referring to something as traumatic:
In general, trauma occurs in response to unusually distressing, life-threatening, and adverse events. These might be single occurrences, such as an accident, or ongoing experiences, such as abuse and neglect.
Trauma doesn’t just arise from directly experiencing a traumatic event — witnessing, failing to prevent, and perpetuating adverse events may also lead to trauma.
Trauma is more than an emotional response. It lives in our minds, bodies, and souls — and thus healing trauma must incorporate holistic approaches.
I find the perspective of trauma as a moral injury especially valuable when it comes to conversations on ecological trauma. When we experience, witness, allow, or perpetuate an act that transgresses our fundamental beliefs about how the world should operate, there can be a break in our psyches. Shame, guilt, fear, and loss of trust in the goodness of life fill the cracks.
What Is Ecological Trauma?
When it comes to environmental trauma, all of the above coalesce to create a complex and seemingly inescapable form of collective trauma. Let’s look more specifically at what this means in four ecological contexts…
1. Experiencing and Witnessing the Adverse Effects of Human-Caused Climate Change
When people first hear the term “ecological trauma”, their minds often wander to the effects of human-caused climate change — natural disasters that have been accelerated by human impact, food and water insecurity, the harmful effects of environmental toxins and pollution (an area none of us are truly immune to), and the violent conflict that may result from all of this.
With our ever more connected world, even if we haven’t personally lived through a natural disaster or experienced food insecurity, we’re constantly reminded that ecological traumas are happening (we witness them through mass media) and that they will likely impact our lives at some point (the existential threat).
I simply don’t know how anyone could witness the growing numbers of wildfires and “1000-year” floods every year, hear predictions that our coast lines will be underwater and farmland will cease production because of drought, learn about microplastics in our waters and glyphosates in our foods…and not experience fears around safety and survival. This is trauma, and it has become a consistent part of modern life.
One of the most dangerous impacts of this line of ecological trauma is the sense of powerlessness it imbues us with.
There is nothing more dangerous than giving up. If you’re feeling powerless or fearful about these far-reaching effects of climate change — ask yourself, where are the roots of this fear? How is the mass media machine feeding my sense of powerlessness?
This type of ongoing trauma can become debilitating — it can cause us to numb out, give up, and shut down. And it can be tended.
Tending your nervous system in response to the existential threats we face strengthens your resilience to keep embracing what’s true while holding a vision of what is still possible. The elements of the natural world are available to support us:
Turn to the air, and breathe four counts in and four counts out.
Turn to the earth, and allow plant allies to soothe you with restorative teas.
Turn to the water, and soak in salts that draw toxins from your body.
Turn to the fire, and feel passion fortify your heart.
2. Our Innate Empathic Connection
In recent years, I have witnessed a wave of “empath awareness” content sweep through popular culture. While I’m happy to see this phenomenon named and normalized, I feel that most teachings on this topic, which tend to focus on recovery and protection, are missing an important point:
Empathy is our natural state of being.
We are meant to embrace the nonverbal, energetic knowing that alerts us to the state of the world around us. Our natural way of being is to intuitively understand the true feelings and motivations of others. Of course we want the skills and awareness to differentiate between other and self, to be able to turn off connection so as not to be overwhelmed — but we must remember that being an empath is a healthy part of our human wholeness.
People who deeply love the earth tend to be in touch with their innate empathic gifts. Being around too many other people for too long can overwhelm our nervous systems, and the natural world provides soul-soothing relief.
Unfortunately, this also means that as sensitive folks, we can feel the earth’s pain as if it were our own. Witnessing harm done to the earth and her inhabitants can feel like physical pain in the system of an empath. Hiking through a forest that has been clear cut, wandering along an ocean shore filled with plastics and fishing line, visiting locations where human atrocities have taken place — ecological empaths will feel deep grief wash through our beings and we may not even know why.
The temptation here is to shut down. But repression is not a local anesthesia (thank you to Jose Soutelinho for that inspiration). When we numb ourselves to grief, rage, and pain, we end up numbing ourselves to joy, hope, and love, too.
We must learn to acknowledge and feel our pain. We must expand our capacity to hold challenging truths in our awareness. And we must remember that the world is more than trauma. She is not broken, and neither are we.
The pain we perceive is only a small layer in the immense divine presence of the earth and the spirits of nature. Rather than shutting down, empaths can learn to extend their awareness beyond the surface and into the true nature of the wild world. And we can tune into non-human timelines, where we see that the earth is never barren and the potential for restoration is always there. Here, you’ll discover compassion, beauty, and divine order far beyond what our human minds might initially perceive.
3. Caught in a Double Bind of Ecological Abuse
Whether we experience, witness, or perpetuate it — abuse is traumatic. And our earth is under an onslaught of abuse that few of us have the power to prevent.
We know that precious resources are extracted from our earth with greed rather than reverence. We know that our waste, sewage, and toxic byproducts are dumped into her soils and waters. This trauma of witnessing and failing to prevent these acts is an inescapable part of our daily lives.
What can be especially traumatic at the soul level, however, is that we are also required to participate in this abuse.
Most people are dependent upon modern society for survival, yet modern society — and all the infrastructure, consumption, trade, and resources it requires — is the earth’s abuser.
Do we leave our abuser to fend for ourselves in the wilderness, knowing that our own departure does nothing to stop the machine, or do we stay and do our best to effect change, knowing that our very existence will have harmful consequences for the planet?
This is a soul-crushing bind to find ourselves in. And it requires soul-level tending.
I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: “Our ecological crises require cosmological solutions.”
We must remember that the earth is alive, inspirited, and has consciousness — and we can partner with the earth and the myriad spirits of nature to bring about healing. We are children of the earth, and the soul of the earth holds us in endless compassion.
By connecting with the earth’s loving soul on a regular basis, we’re more able to release environmental guilt and fill our hearts with hope. We recognize that even if our personal efforts to live more regenerative lifestyles seem like drops in an ocean, the spirits of nature witness our heartfelt intentions and it does make a difference. The ripple effects might be unseen and subtle, but they are there.
4. Abandonment: Returning to Our Original Mother
For millennia, the earth was seen as alive and as an essential part of our more-than-human family. She was our great mother (and our fertile father in some ancient traditions), who ensured the survival and well-being of all her children. We were born of the earth, nourished by the earth, sheltered by the earth, and loved by the earth. And we remained in reverent relationship with her throughout our lives.
Much of modern life removes us from our ancestral partnership with the earth. Severed from this original relationship, we experience the traumatic effects of parental abandonment in the core of our psyches.
This core abandonment can leave us feeling unloved and under-resourced, as if we must fight for survival and bear the weight of our burdens alone. Helplessness, unworthiness, and ongoing anxiety are natural outcomes of disconnection with our earth mother.
Inherent in this dynamic is also the sense that it is up to humans alone to “solve” our climate crises — we caused it, and we alone can fix it.
While we must take responsibility here, this perspective traps us within the limitations of the human mind. Once again: Our ecological crises require cosmological solutions. We must recognize the natural world as inspirited, with agency in the course of its own future.
We must restore our relationship to the animated earth, listening to the deep wisdom of our mother with reverence, humility, and gratitude.
As deep as this wounding of ecological trauma is, it is perhaps the most available for healing — for our primordial mother has not abandoned us. She is with us every moment of every day, waiting for us to return home to her loving embrace.
Transmuting Our Grief and Trauma Recovery
The ongoing nature of these ecological traumas makes it challenging for us to stay present and well-regulated. It becomes much easier to numb ourselves to the pain of the world, turn away from suffering, and give up hope for healing.
By bringing key practices from trauma recovery into ecological contexts — in other words, by healing in partnership with the natural world — we experience transformational healing.
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