Forging new paths in science engagement

The Pacific Crest Trail over the McCloud River. Photo by me.

I so appreciate this beautiful piece on "climate grief" and what it means for climate scientists. It was written by scientist Sarah Myhre and in a couple of my favorite passages, she says:

"We are hamstrung by our need for job security, funding, advancement, and promotion – because we, too, are juggling the demands of child rearing, aging parents, urban gentrification, and the winnowing of the middle-class.

Regardless, this is the time for a gut-check. Our job is not to objectively document the decline of Earth’s biodiversity and humanity, so what does scientific leadership look like in this hot, dangerous world?"

***

"I believe most scientists are also, quietly and professionally, mourning the loss of the balance of Earth’s life. The pain doesn’t stop. It’s carried upon every wildfire, coral bleaching, or marine die-off. But, we can use these waves of pain to inform our moral commitment to the present and future. It requires the brave integration of science and self, the acceptance of loss."

Chronic versus acute problems

When the California drought really got going, in the sense of a generalized panic about it, it was late 2013 / early 2014. The drought had actually started at least a couple of years before that. Now, here we are, a couple of years later, and by most accounts it looks like we're entering year five, despite a relatively wet winter in some parts of the state.

In those early days, I treated the drought much like I used to treat wildfire events when I worked on fire issues: as an acute problem -- an intense, urgent event that would have at least a somewhat distinct end. This is as opposed to a chronic problem -- one relatively unchanging in condition and with no definite end.

Tuning out, tuning in

The sound of thunder and lightning and a million grains of sand being stirred by monsoon winds in the desert. Photo by me.

Listening is something I spend a lot of time doing and thinking about, but over the past year or two I have noticed that my feelings about it have evolved quite a bit. In a nutshell, I'm seeing more and more that the times when I just can't bear to listen have as much to teach me as anything else.

On Being: Stepping Stones of Integrating Emotions into Practicing Science

I could not be more thrilled to be a guest contributor at On Being. For those that don't already know it, it's a platform that explores the questions "what does it mean to be human, and how do we want to live?" hosted by the incomparable Krista Tippett. I love the blog and the podcast, and am so so so honored to be in the company of contributors like Parker Palmer and Courtney Martin.

You can read the full post -- "Stepping Stones of Integrating Emotions into Practicing Science" -- and dig around for some other inspiring content (like podcasts with Mary Oliver, Joanna Macy, John Lewis, Rachel Naomi Remen, and Seth Godin - so many good ones!) at their website. I have so much gratitude for the work they do.

Related posts:

• The emotional lives of scientists
• Grief and science 
• Contemplative practice in the sciences

Relationships, listening, conflict (and an actor) in science & communication

For the past five or so years, I've been writing and speaking extensively about the value of relational work, including deep listening, in science and communication. It's so heartening to see others joining that chorus. Alan Alda (yes, that Alan Alda), who is now a visiting professor at a science communication center named after him at Stony Brook University, has a beautiful reflection on his work teaching scientists to communicate more effectively. In an interview in The Atlantic with Jessica Lahey, he says:

Joy for this world, just as it is

Here in this enchanted land known as the greater Bay Area of northern California, rain has been falling intermittently but quite heavily and blessedly during the last week. While the state snow survey that took place just a couple of days ago showed that we are still at only 32% of the average snow pack that we rely on to get us through our largely precipitation free summers, the storms brought along an incredible, sweeping energy, complete with a type of powerful thunder and lightning which are often elusive here. After a dry winter spent live tweeting a drought, I find myself making evening pilgrimages to our newly green hills almost daily. It is inevitable that I return home full of a type of deep joy that comes only from being in the world in this particular way.

Compassion practice & our common humanity on this shared planet

"Real compassion kicks butt and takes names, and it is not pleasant on certain days." Ken Wilber

A dearly beloved person gave me the
Quan Yin figure in the top right photo
as a symbol of compassion,
it's helpful to have the reminders. 

There are times when compassion feels effortless, and times when it take real work. In graduate school I had a longer version of the Ken Wilber quote above on a piece of paper taped to my desk to remind me the hard days were okay. It was at least a dozen years ago and I had just begun a more conscious relationship with compassion, particularly with self-compassion, largely as a result of needing some help getting through my doctoral qualifying exams with what I came to understand later was a severe case of impostor syndrome. Seriously, every first year graduate school seminar should start with this topic just to get it out of the way early since so many of us encounter it unexpectedly.

My particular version came from feeling out of place at a major research university as a female, working class kid in a body that didn't and still doesn't fit the mold, combined with a lifelong family struggle that came to a head at the same time as an utterly confusing and identity-shifting personal relationship developed. I am grateful that instead of the many other ways it could have gone, this confluence of events started me on a complex and ultimately healing journey, with compassion as one of its main ingredients.

Staying centered and sane

Sustainability as a concept is both regaled and reviled in environmental circles. For me it’s really about what can be maintained over time without harming myself, my community, or the planet, and I haven't been doing it lately. A deep inner drive about my work, which I love, feels at cross purposes with a deep part of my soul that needs life to slow down. That inner struggle is amplified by a similar one I feel in the outer world, where mixed messages abound and we are, for example, simultaneously rewarded and chastised for being stressed out or where taking a break can be both verbally encouraged and subtly discouraged. After sputtering around in overwhelm for what can be days and weeks at a time, what brings me the most peace are the moments when I can surrender and just let it – whatever I can do – be enough.

The only way is together

I have had a several experiences lately that have led to a more embodied sense of both the futile and counter-productive nature of “getting” anybody to do anything, at least on a long-term basis and in a way that doesn't ultimately feel terrible. As a simple example, say I am on a walk in the woods with a friend. I might want to go one way, while she might want to go another. I could try to persuade her to go where I want to go, and I may have a lot of well-informed reasons about why "my way" is the best way. But, if my goal is to truly be with my friend, to be connected and in relationship, I would be best served by working with her to figure out what works for both of us, rendering "my way" pretty pointless. Sure - there's a possibility that together we might go over a cliff, but as much as I'd like to think it's not the case, I could just as easily end up over the cliff going my own way.

Conflict, emotion, and engagement in science: Internal conflict (Part 2)

As I mentioned in a previous post, I come very much from a community engagement perspective in the sciences, having spent a lot of time working in cooperative extension and as a scientist in an environmental advocacy organization. These are arenas in which relationships between people play a central role in the scientific and technical work of the institutions as a whole, and certainly for individuals. Engagement work is, for me, the best and only way to work. It is really rewarding, but there is no denying that at times it can also be uncomfortable and challenging when we inevitably disagree or have different needs or whatever the case may be.

Contemplative practice in the sciences

In 2011, I gave a presentation at the annual meeting of the Ecological Society of America annual meeting on contemplative practices and community engagement in the sciences. The following year, I published a short paper on a related topic "From science communication to relationship-building: contemplative practice and community engagement in the environmental sciences." In some ways, I wish that I’d detached the issues of engagement and relationship-building from contemplative practice and written two separate articles, but, well, hindsight and all that. Even with 20/20 backwards vision, I still feel like bringing up a problem (getting from communicating to relating) without a solution (the contemplation piece) isn't super productive, but I also see that for folks uncomfortable with idea of contemplative practice, I obscured the relationship building piece.