Dear Conservationist (Earth Carer), you deserve to be cared for.

Dear conservationist,

Since I last wrote to you, I have been gleefully working in the climate space (said nobody ever) and embracing working on local community-based projects. There was a long time in my life where I felt as if climate was outside of my scope of interest, but now I have been delving into this space with enthusiasm. It always felt as though new renewable technologies were more palatable to our consumerist ways and easier to finance than the care of biodiversity; however, unless we reduce our emissions, many, if not all, of our precious ecosystems will be in trouble. In listening to the audiobook of What If We Get It Right? Visions of Climate Futures By Ayana Elizabeth Johnson, I realise that, like Ayana, I am one of many conservationists who have realised the importance of climate work for the future of biodiversity on our planet.

As I have mentioned in previous letters, I often toy with changing the name of this site because the word conservationist could feel exclusive of climate scientists, First Nations individuals, and other carers of the Earth. I am leaning towards “Earth Carer Care,” but I very much welcome other inclusive suggestions if I do choose to go down the rebranding route. So many stewards of our natural world deserve care, and I very much hope that I can continue to follow my passions in this space in ways that are inviting, inclusive, and, well, caring to all.

In this month of being a climate steward and a carer of conservationists (and all who work so tirelessly for the future of our natural world), I have felt such insurmountable joy. I feel as if I am living out the dreams of seven-years-ago Jessie who wrote that very first Lonely Conservationists blog. I did not in a million years expect a climate job to be my dream job, but every day I am so incredibly happy to work for and with incredible people. I wish I could tell the beforetimes Jessie that my workplace has a weekly optional well-being check-in, acknowledging the emotional challenges of working in the climate space. Not only that, but my workplace is a part of other climate groups who are invited to attend webinars by Psychology for a Safe Climate and participate in climate cafes. If that wasn’t enough, we provide well-being resources to individuals who engage with our climate adaptation activities. It turns out that well-being can be business as usual in the workplace, and 7-years-ago Jessie could only ever dream of this reality.

There have been events and news within this role, as there are in all climate roles, that could have sent me down yet another climate grief spiral. They could have, but instead, I have felt robust and well supported enough to even listen to extracurricular climate books on my way to and from work, such as ‘How to Talk About Climate Change in a Way that Makes a Difference’, by Dr Rebecca Huntley. I walk around the office with a smile on my face, so stoked that this is the world I am living in. If the care of Earth carers is normalised and embedded into the standard ways of being and doing in this workplace, it means that it could very much be similar in other workplaces around the world. More so, this care has been proven to actually work in sustaining my resilience in the role and freeing up my mental load outside of work hours. What a time to be alive!

In tandem with this wonderful care from others, I have been indulging in a little bit of self-care too. I was never really one for doomscrolling or losing myself in the algorithm; however, I was starting to hate the fact that reaching for my phone felt automated. I was starting to get suspicious of my need to fill small, dull moments between activities or tasks with a quick dopamine boost from a screen, and wondered if my mindfulness walks could be extrapolated into tiny moments of mindfulness, too.

You see, I fought the smartphone life for a while. I drove with printed out directions, asked for help way more than I do now, and left my emails safe inside my laptop until very late in 2015. I only caved when my boyfriend’s housemate thrust a second-hand ancient iPhone into my hand and said that a requirement of being in the household was entering the modern era. I missed that version of me that was a staunch advocate for capability and independence, and so I moved my social apps off of my home screen, changed my phone to black and white and watched myself finish more book chapters, have more thoughts, and feel more emotionally regulated.

Sometimes, not being on social media a ton feels like I’m not properly engaging with society. Like, if I am not exposed to enough horrible news, viral songs, or relentless advertising, am I even living? Since being intentional about what I engage with and when, instead of having an automated habit that controls me, I have been able to decide what I care about, donate when I can, and choose what gets my the priviledge of my eyeballs. In a world that demands my attention, I am starting to realise how valuable mine is. I try now to dish it out to who and what deserves it, not who steals it.

One last act of self-care that I have been embracing is movement, as it has been shown to ward off the sads pretty effectively. I started swimming a few years ago, in a very slow breaststroke, with no expectation of myself other than to move and have some me time. I wanted this to be unlike other relationships I have had with exercise and wanted it to be low stakes and joyful, which is why I have sustained it for so long.

Having recently had a bit more free time in my evenings, I have been returning to the pool more and more over the past month. A couple of weeks ago, I was sharing a lane with a woman who doesn’t know this, but she changed my whole outlook on what swimming could be for me. It’s crazy to think of all the two-second interactions like this that we have with strangers that inspire our lives to change.

This particular woman was sharing my lane, decked out in a swimming cap and fitness watch and swimming a very competent-looking freestyle. Why was she in the slow lane, I wondered? While she was catching her breath, she turned to me and asked if I liked swimming. Weird, I thought, considering where we were. Well, it turned out that she actually hated swimming and that she was an injured runner who had learnt to swim only a couple of weeks ago to be able to keep moving. I have no idea why, but this small interaction made me think that if she could freestyle this well after only a few weeks, then maybe I could too.

I watched her technique, and after she left the lane, I tried it out for myself. Wow. This felt a lot easier than my previous attempts! After chatting with my friend, an ex-swimming instructor, I learnt some handy dandy tips about elbows, and got myself a swimming cap because it turns out they actually are useful for swimming. Talking to my friends about my newfound swimming zest, two of them offered me their old Garmin watches for tracking my improvement over time. Suddenly, a couple of weeks later, I was in the same position as that lady, in the slow lane, cap on, watch on, and using newly learned techniques, freestyling through the water.

For me, a lot of joy has come from this experience: being inspired by others to learn new skills and push myself, seeking advice from friends, and reduce, reuse, recycling old tech while I do it. I also acknowledge that this is a step up from swimming as a leisurely time for me, and this newfound excitement about learning and growing has been made possible by a new opening in my mental and emotional capacity. Being cared for in other aspects of my life has freed up this new avenue for effort. It’s easy to forget that we use energy like a currency; we need it to have it to be able to spend it.

All of this to say, I think care, self-care and care from others, is pretty underrated and under-prioritised in Western society. My life feels whole for the first time in my life, not from what I do or have done, not from who I am or have been, but because of all the care I am receiving and also giving. Sometimes care looks like creating safe spaces for your workmates, sometimes care is hiding your phone from yourself, and sometimes care is pushing yourself to try new things. I know this is a letter to you, a conservationist, and here I am talking about swimming. But dear conservationist, you are also very much a person, and there are so many ways to care for you, and for you to care for others, too.

Often, care seems lame, boring, and associated with the elderly, the foster system, or dental. However, to me, care is radical, care is life-changing, and care could truly save our world from ourselves. If only we stopped just a second to care a little more about where we are, who we are with, and how we are. How different our world would be.

Take care, oh- and don’t forget to give some too!

Jessie