In some moments, there are simply not words. Not any words than can truly express the grief we feel. The shock. The pain. The mourning.

With California facing the painful disaster of wildfires, and Louisiana recovering from the fire attack last week, we are in one of those moments. We mourn for those in danger, those lost, those facing the flames. If you are financially able, we encourage UUs to donate to the UUA Disaster Relief Fund. The link can be found in our bio or in the comments of this post.

The climate crisis is an everything crisis. It is an environmental crisis, an infrastructure crisis, a political, social, and economic crisis. It’s a health crisis, and it has become an emotional and spiritual crisis.

There are different ways of describing what people might be experiencing, including
eco-anxiety, eco-guilt, eco-dread, eco-despair, eco-depression, eco-grief, solastalgia, and biospheric concern. Climate anxiety will soon be named as a mental health disorder in the DSM.

Climate grief as a term can be used to encompass both climate anxiety (also known as anticipatory grief), the grief over impacts already felt, or grief about what is currently being experienced.

A big part of this work is slowing down enough to notice and honor the thoughts, feelings and patterns that arise as a result of climate disruption.

Francis Weller, in his book The Wild Edge of Sorrow: Rituals of Renewal and the Sacred Work of Grief says, “Grief and love are sisters, woven together from the beginning. Their kinship reminds us that there is no love that does not contain loss and no loss that is not a reminder of the love we carry for what we once held close.”