From Environmental Despair to Empowerment

By Lisa Franseen, PhD

I remember coming home from school one day – I think I was in the 8th grade – to find that the field next door had been overturned and marked for development. Every tree was gone, the sled hill was gone, my underground fort gone, all life was gone. And the first thing to pull tears to my eyes and bring a wail to my throat was thinking about all the pheasants that had suddenly lost their home. My family used to put corn out for those pheasants and would delight in watching them, the male and all his hens, one by one scurry over to eat. I get choked up even now writing this down! And I can multiply my emotions by thousands with all that I have witnessed since that day in 8th grade.

Is this despair okay? Was I really upset about something else? Regardless, what do I do with it? And what happens if I do nothing?

This is the focus of a workshop at the Neah-ta-wanta Inn, March 11-13th.

Despair for our world is natural and healthy. It’s as “normal” as grieving over the death of a loved one or loss of our own health. It can include anger, rage, guilt, sorrow, helplessness, and hopelessness. Despair for our planet and its inhabitants is analogous to feeling the pain that would come from losing an arm, yet extends beyond our separate selves, beyond our individual wants and needs. And this despair is actually a testimony to our interconnectedness with life and all other beings. “It is akin to the original meaning of compassion: “suffering with.” It is the distress we feel in connection with the larger whole of which we are a part. It is our pain for the world and no one is exempt from that pain” (Macy, 1995).

In western culture, unfortunately, to state that such despair is natural and healthy is not stating the obvious, but stating what is usually denied, repressed, ignored, and even worse ridiculed. Crying for pheasants at the age of 13 can be easily rationalized, but what about at the age of 41 or 53 or 72? As a psychologist, I was taught to assess the cause of strong emotional states within the person. Maybe it’s from a state of depression, caused by negative and irrational thinking? Maybe it’s from unresolved issues with her mother. Maybe she’s just overemotional. Or wants attention? Or is actually despairing over losing her job but can’t admit it? As though we’re each an island, unaffected by anything happening around us!

Because it’s not generally acceptable to show outwardly our despair for the world, it’s as if there’s an invisible force keeping us quiet, vocally and through our actions. In keeping quiet, we turn to other distractions. We complain to those who agree with us, but we don’t vote. We worry about our grandchildren, but we don’t join a cause and fight for what we believe. We “for some reason” always feel exhausted and just don’t have time. We work our jobs and find respite in TV. We feel paralyzed.

I’ve always believed that what appears to be public apathy is but a fear of experiencing and expressing this pain (well, and ignorance…) and that, once it is acknowledged and shared, it opens the way to our power. And I don’t mean power over; I’m talking power within, the power to act, the creative power that comes from reconnecting to the larger web of life.

Information about the world, without processing it psychologically and emotionally, only cripples our ability to fully respond on the cognitive level. It takes a lot of energy to repress what we are experiencing and feeling, and that repression has consequences. It keeps us from feeling true joy. It can weaken our immune systems and lead to illness. And nothing in the world changes.

		february 2005 -- Issue 13

From Environmental Despair to Empowerment By Lisa Franseen, PhD I remember coming home from school one day – I think I was in the 8th grade – to find that the field next door had been overturned and marked for development. Every tree was gone, the sled hill was gone, my underground fort gone, all life was gone. And the first thing to pull tears to my eyes and bring a wail to my throat was thinking about all the pheasants that had suddenly lost their home. My family used to put corn out for those pheasants and would delight in watching them, the male and all his hens, one by one scurry over to eat. I get choked up even now writing this down! And I can multiply my emotions by thousands with all that I have witnessed since that day in 8th grade. Is this despair okay? Was I really upset about something else? Regardless, what do I do with it? And what happens if I do nothing? This is the focus of a workshop at the Neah-ta-wanta Inn, March 11-13th. Despair for our world is natural and healthy. It’s as “normal” as grieving over the death of a loved one or loss of our own health. It can include anger, rage, guilt, sorrow, helplessness, and hopelessness. Despair for our planet and its inhabitants is analogous to feeling the pain that would come from losing an arm, yet extends beyond our separate selves, beyond our individual wants and needs. And this despair is actually a testimony to our interconnectedness with life and all other beings. “It is akin to the original meaning of compassion: “suffering with.” It is the distress we feel in connection with the larger whole of which we are a part. It is our pain for the world and no one is exempt from that pain” (Macy, 1995). In western culture, unfortunately, to state that such despair is natural and healthy is not stating the obvious, but stating what is usually denied, repressed, ignored, and even worse ridiculed. Crying for pheasants at the age of 13 can be easily rationalized, but what about at the age of 41 or 53 or 72? As a psychologist, I was taught to assess the cause of strong emotional states within the person. Maybe it’s from a state of depression, caused by negative and irrational thinking? Maybe it’s from unresolved issues with her mother. Maybe she’s just overemotional. Or wants attention? Or is actually despairing over losing her job but can’t admit it? As though we’re each an island, unaffected by anything happening around us! Because it’s not generally acceptable to show outwardly our despair for the world, it’s as if there’s an invisible force keeping us quiet, vocally and through our actions. In keeping quiet, we turn to other distractions. We complain to those who agree with us, but we don’t vote. We worry about our grandchildren, but we don’t join a cause and fight for what we believe. We “for some reason” always feel exhausted and just don’t have time. We work our jobs and find respite in TV. We feel paralyzed. I’ve always believed that what appears to be public apathy is but a fear of experiencing and expressing this pain (well, and ignorance…) and that, once it is acknowledged and shared, it opens the way to our power. And I don’t mean power over; I’m talking power within, the power to act, the creative power that comes from reconnecting to the larger web of life. Information about the world, without processing it psychologically and emotionally, only cripples our ability to fully respond on the cognitive level. It takes a lot of energy to repress what we are experiencing and feeling, and that repression has consequences. It keeps us from feeling true joy. It can weaken our immune systems and lead to illness. And nothing in the world changes.

February 2005 -- Issue 13	Gatherings Main Index	Center Home