Author: jennynazak

“What does climate-resilient wealth look like?” That’s a question someone asked in the Socially Conscious FIRE group (Facebook) the other day. And it’s a question that I’ve thought about a lot myself. And an implied question that’s been weaving through many conversations lately in the climate preparedness/adaptation community.

Following is a short list off the top of my head. This is not meant to be complete, or to imply that a person can’t be resilient or ethical without cultivating the forms of wealth on this list. Humans are fundamentally creative and we find our own ways. That said, I hope you find this list helpful in formulating your own thoughts and in initiating community discussions.

What I see as the best forms of climate-resilient wealth, not in any particular order:

• Some sort of occupational skill that is not likely to go away regardless of what happens with the planet. The know-how to practice an “energy descent” version of your profession. A version that is not dependent on centralized systems, large mechanized equipment, etc. You could start practicing this with your existing occupation, or you could start training for an additional occupation that draws you. Carpentry or land management with hand-tools and without industrial chemicals; sewing by hand or by pedal-powered machine, are among the oft-cited examples. But we’ll need energy-descent versions of every occupation. Having a steady way to make a living, which includes a plan for making a living in one’s old age, is a greater form of wealth and security than any amount of stockpiled money or other stockpiled material investments can ever bring. I think this fear of not being able to make a steady livelihood in old age (or the equivalent of a livelihood — having a useful and needed function that makes people want to have us around) is the real existential malaise that underlies our frantic efforts to stockpile massive amounts of money or equivalent (which never end up making us feel safe). “Being useless once we get old” is a dysfunction of capitalist/consumerist/industralist/financialized society. By reclaiming real forms of wealth, we can get ourselves and society beyond this illness.

(One example of a gentle old-age livelihood would be teaching the trade you practiced in your younger years. Another would be sharing your wisdom through storytelling/writing. Or watching children, or tending animals. Or tending a shop. Or mentoring young people.)

• The know-how to live largely without money. Depending on money for everything is expensive!!

• Portability. Obviously some professions and essential activities require heavy tools but even if the tools of your trade are much larger than needle and thread or even shovel and sickle, there are ways to be pretty portable if you cultivate sharing networks.

• A deep relationship with the place you are in. A sense of responsibility and love and caring for that place — even if you know you are only there temporarily; and even knowing that you might have to permanently evac even if you had intentions of being there for life. Check out the writings of Wendell Berry, Mary Dejong.

• Fruit trees, nut trees, overstory trees, and other trees. Perennial vegetables. Locally adapted seeds. Healthy soil. Rainbarrels, solar ovens, and other tangible durable goods. Even knowing you would not be able to take this stuff with you if you have to move, the experience you gain in the meantime by building these natural forms of wealth will be portable and adaptable to any place.

• Tools, cookware, durable food containers, general household implements. Choose good quality (often available from garage sales and thrift shops), and avoid the temptation to stockpile more than you need. This can be challenging I know. But when I start seeing extra cookpans and other stuff I didn’t remember that I had, I know it’s time to reassess and possibly give away or sell some things.

• Family. (Even if you and your family members live far apart, you can still be emotional wealth, experiential wealth, practical support, and possibly also material wealth to each other.)

• Friends. (Same comment as for family.)

• A neighborhood with a sense of connectedness, where people look out for each other (no need to be best buddies or super-likeminded; it’s just simple basic mutual aid and concern).

• Ability to connect with people across different views, ages, backgrounds. Conversational fluency in at least one language other than your own can be a great asset here. But even with few words, or without speaking at all, we can expand our connection skills.

• Having some money (or labor, or both) invested in a regenerative business enterprise (permaculture farm, local composting business, micro-kitchen, teaching enterprise, toolmaking shop, bicycle repair shop, micro-publisher, etc.) without expecting any financial return on your investment. Investors’ expectation of reaping a financial return undercuts the longterm viability of regenerative enterprises, and keeps us stuck in the mode of economy where everything is financialized. It’s a sick economy, expensive in many ways for us all. And we really need all the regenerative enterprises we can get. Together with the socially connected neighborhood, regenerative enterprises are a building-block of resilient households and communities.

• A place where you’d be welcome to go to live if you have to leave your current place. Important note: I am not talking about a vacant piece of land, or an unoccupied extra house you are stockpiling as your backup place, where no one is living unless and until you move there. (That kind of hoarding creates real-estate price pressure and other suffering in local communities.) I’m talking about land or a house that is already occupied by fulltime resident(s), who have a knowledge base of local skills and connections, and would welcome you to join their household – community.

• Having such a place to offer other people.

• Physical health.

• Mental health. Including tools/practices for integrating past trauma, processing emotional reactivity, being emotionally stable (which does not mean we’re not going to have strong emotions; just means having healthy ways to face and process them).

• Spirituality; some kind of belief in transcendance; interconnectedness of life.

• A sturdy acceptance of your own mortality, and of the reality that risk is always present in life.

• Books – not only practical manuals but also stories — worth investing in even knowing you might have to evac without them.

• Education; learning. Whether academic or hands-on; formal or self-taught. In Introduction to Permaculture, Bill Mollison said education is the most portable and flexible investment we can make. And my mother said, “Education is never wasted.” I could not agree more. I have had the blessing of many different kinds of education, and have used it all extensively, even my supposedly “useless” major in English Lit and minor in Sociology have proven absolutely indispensable. My alltime best investments in education have been Permaculture Design Certificate courses and The Avatar® Course.

• Earth-based skills merit a category by themselves: Knowing how to grow, forage, hunt at least some food. How to catch and use water. How to turn “waste” into compost; build soil. How to passively catch and use solar energy. And so on and so on!

• Hands-on experience living & working in many different climates, bioregions. And places with different social climates.

• The ability to live happily and peacefully in very close quarters with other people.

• Sense of humor and the ability to make people laugh, cheer people up.

• Flexibility and adaptability in general. This is probably the #1 most durable form of wealth. It’s available by training your mind. Flexibility and adaptability of the mind will lead to ability to navigate change in your physical surroundings and external circumstances. One of the biggest mistakes I see people make is treating resilience as a purely material gig. It’s quite the opposite.

How about you? What’s in your “portfolio” of climate-resilient wealth?

P.S. Almost none of the above kinds of wealth are things you have to be born with or luck into. Almost all can be deliberately developed.

P.P.S. You might have noticed I don’t have money, gold, stocks, mutual funds, or investment properties on this list. That’s because no amount of any of these things will make you more resilient. They can actually make you more vulnerable. And furthermore, because of the opportunity cost of amassing and protecting these things, they can actually undermine your efforts to build true climate-resilient wealth. I’ve written about this before and will doubtless do so on many more occasions in future. (Not that it’s necessarily wrong to have or want these things; just that 1) we can’t afford to keep putting them ahead of community and the other stuff we really need — the stuff we are so tragically deficient in; and 2) money is less durable than most of the things listed above, and if you have even a few of the kinds of wealth listed above, you might be surprised at how little you feel the need to stockpile financial assets.)

Further Reading:

• “Are You Thinking in Sustainable Stores of Value?” (Laura Oldanie, Rich Resilient Living.) “As I progress in my wealth building journey, I find myself drawn more and more to resilient and tangible forms of wealth. Not only do many of them seem more sustainable to me, they also bring me more joy and meaning, while simultaneously helping me further distance myself from the extractive, life-depleting, soul-sucking economy within which so much human activity takes place. This has led me to focus on cultivating stores of value. I was first exposed to the concept of stores of value (at least it was the first time the idea stuck!) during my permaculture design course (PDC) about ten years ago. …” Laura, a friend and fellow Florida permie, always offers a “wealth” of tips and inspiration on how to live abundantly yet simply, while cultivating economic resilience and being part of the solution to major world problems.

If you care about the environment, and if you try your best to make green choices, and if you speak up at all about the importance of protecting ecosystems, you have in all likelihood had someone, somewhere, at one time or another, call you a “zealot.” (Or “extreme”; “hardcore”; “fanatic”; or equivalent.)

However! You are not a zealot. Trying to persuade our fellow humans that we need to stop trashing our biosphere — our life support system — is not zealotry. It is good common sense. Caring that people in other places are being harmed by the thoughtless consumerism of the USA and other wealthy consumerist nations, and trying to do what you can to correct that, isn’t zealotry; it’s basic compassion and moral decency.

(This post was prompted by comments from some chemical-lawn-defender in one of the eco-friendly gardening groups. The person said something like, “I care about pollinators and all, but some of what I’m hearing in this group borders on zealotry!”) Yes, even in groups that are supposedly dedicated to eco-restoration, you can get called a zealot for being “too environmental.”)

Oh well. We can expect to be ridiculed (or worse) for daring to oppose consumerist, colonialist, extractionist norms. For suggesting that perhaps we might need a different set of norms, given that our existing ones are cooking the entire planet. Being labeled zealous or hardcore for upholding your core values is a thing that happens. Don’t let it stop you. Keep on doing what you do!

If anyone’s a zealot, it’s the person who reads the same news we do — the news of droughts, wildfires, floods, water shortages, food price inflation and food supply-line disruption — and still thinks it’s fine that the largest irrigated crop in the USA, by total land area, is lawns. Or that our landscapes are dominated by nonnative trees and plants that don’t feed anyone — wildlife or human. Now that is some kind of zealotry!

And our cult of consumerism is definitely some kind of zealotry! So is our rabid dedication to the personal automobile — definitely some kind of fanaticism there. (By the way, recently I heard about a fancy condo where you drive your car into a car-elevator, and the elevator takes you up to your own exclusive parking space, which is on the same floor where you live. Seriously, I am creative but I cannot make this stuff up!)

A whole separate category of zealotry is dedicated to the persistence with which corporate coffee shops and other corporate food places foist useless and toxic bits of plastic on us. Just trying to order coffee in a paper cup, without lids and straws and other plastic junk, can involve an extended conversation with the cashier — and sometimes you still end up with them giving you all that junk because that’s the default. (Note: My local Mom & Pop coffee shop doesn’t foist plastic junk on people, and they let us use our own reusable cups. Ditto my local Mom & Pop convenience store.)

Today I heard about three storytelling genres I had never heard of before: hopepunk, noblebright, and grimdark. Someone in the Deep Adaptation group posted this article from vox.com:

“‘Community is a huge part of hopepunk,’ Rowland told me. ‘We accomplish great things when we form bonds with each other. We’re stronger, we can build higher, and we can take better care of each other.’ … ‘Hopepunk is a radical call to arms for us to imagine better,’ Slack said. ‘To embrace the fact that fantasy is not simply an escape from the world but an invitation to go deeper into it. That we must fall in love with the world that we so deeply wish to change.'”

Hopepunk “sits partly in opposition to the fantasy trope known as ‘noblebright,’ in which social systems are good because the leaders we choose are inherently good. The ‘chosen one’ is chosen because they are mythically wise, noble, and just, and heroes win the day by virtue of being heroes.
‘Hopepunk knows that everything is impermanent and that nothing is promised,’ Rowland said. ‘Noblebright says that we can eventually win the fight and have a happy ending, and hopepunk says that there’s no such thing as winning, and that we have to keep doing the work every single day for the rest of civilization.'”

This is the very mind-set I’ve found myself getting into over the past few months.

When I first got into my “voluntary energy descent” lifestyle, I had hopes of helping to spark a societal shift that would “save the world.” Now, with the world basically in flames, it’s by no means a given that anything we can do will save us from a grim ending, perhaps rather sooner than we had thought.

Where that lands me, is in the present. What I can do in the present moment is remember to feel gratitude; and extend kindness to people and all other beings. The subhead of the article linked above refers to “hanging onto your humanity at all costs.”

Our consumerist-colonialist wealth-hoarder culture has a way of has a way of nudging us to devalue the riches of the immediate present moment. A society of extreme medical technology and 401(k) retirement accounts and fantasy consumerism (“the beautiful house I will have ‘someday’ when I retire; the hobbies I will enjoy ‘when I finally have time.'”) When valued appropriately, when noticed and celebrated, the present moment is fat and delicious and filled with enough … not only enough for me but enough to share.

I must confess, I was not a naturally sharing person as a kid. I was kind of a spoiled brat who wanted everything for herself. Toys, food, other people’s attention. To this day, I sometimes feel anxious about sharing. Will I have “enough”? But I’ve come to the point where I would rather share what I have, and risk not having enough for myself (whatever that even means), than stockpile, and risk reaching the end of my life with excess unshared stuff that could have been shared and helped someone who needed it right then. Every time I nudge myself to share, it works out fine and it feels great.

The ongoing ratcheting-up of deadly natural disasters as part of our daily background noise of life — floods, fires, droughts, pandemic — is starting to poke holes in the idea that we can build any kind of real security for ourselves via stuff, be it houses or money or a seemingly steady job or the notion that any particular place on the planet is “disaster-proof.”

What we can have, always, is our own morals and ethics, and our love for each other and for this world. Connection and community are everything. Sure, we have material needs. No one wants to die of starvation. But I’d rather starve in community than feast alone. (And anyway, being in community reduces the likelihood of starvation.)

I’m looking forward to reading the story genres mentioned in this article. Storytelling is a great vehicle for evolution.

I really love the idea of “falling in love with the world that we wish to change,” as opposed to refusing to love the world until we get it the way we want it.

The opposite of hopepunk is grimdark: “a literary descriptor for genre texts and media which evoke a pervasively gritty, bleak, pessimistic, or nihilistic view of the world. These are the worlds of modern-era Batman, Breaking Bad, The Walking Dead, and so many other contemporary pop culture properties — universes in which cruelty is a given and social systems are destined to betray or disappoint.”

In a real-life reenactment of grimdark, the ultra-rich are buying up land and building lavish survival bunkers for themselves and their kin (newyorker.com).

And climate-change fears are prompting more Americans to join survivalist schools (nbcnews.com).

(My suggestion for survivalist schools: Include in your curricula not just gardening and other “hard” skills, but also “soft” skills such as conflict resolution, nonviolent communication, community-building, sharing skills, tools for processing emotions and avoiding getting stuck in reactivity, and some kind of mindfulness and compassion practice. Those are the real survival skills, and if we cultivate those, we are more likely to be able to produce enough of the food and other material stuff we need.)

On a related note, check out the deep wisdom in this article, “You’re Not Going To Homestead Through Collapse” (Shelly Fagan; medium.com). “People who criticize billionaires for foolishly building underground bunkers believe they can survive the impending doom of climate change by hunkering down on a homestead. Both groups are attempting to escape the realities of collapse. It’s a race that most humans will likely lose. … The solution is not to isolate and attempt to ride it out alone. That will only delay the inevitable. It’s more of the same thought process that led to the unsustainable lifestyle we have now. We are in this predicament because too many believe we don’t need each other — ‘each man is an island’ — and that we can survive this without the cooperation of the rest of humanity.”

I hope you enjoy the vox.com article about hopepunk; it’s a goodie! And treat yourself today to some good stories, whatever genre(s) you prefer.

“Young urban shepherd Lukas Janssens guides his flock among the graves in Schoonselhof, one of Belgium’s iconic cemeteries, knowing sheep are kinder to nature than lawnmowers.

“Limiting emissions of carbon dioxide, a key contributor to climate change, and promoting biodiversity are two key goals of De Antwerpse Stadsherder — The Antwerp City Shepherd — Janssens’ company of one human and 270 sheep.

“‘We won’t stave it off with a flock of sheep,’ Janssens said of global warming. ‘But it is another step to build an more ecological society.’ … Janssens is one of many who have taken on a very personal commitment to do something, along with those who refuse to fly, adapt their personal diet or stay off school to protest on Fridays.”

Don’t you just just love this! I read it in today’s paper. (“After UN climate report, individuals seek to do their part“; Raf Casert, Associated Press; published in Daytona Beach News-Journal Aug 17, 2021.)

And on Facebook yesterday, I “met” a guy in the UK who has a business called The Trim Reapers. For a modest hourly fee, Matthew and friends “provide scything services for meadows, orchards, verges, banks, scrubby areas, and the like. Without the use of fossil fuels and creating only gentle and pleasant sounds.”

Whether it’s creating a climate-aware business or changing a personal habit, we can all get in on the positive shift. We have to keep putting pressure on companies and political leaders, always. But personal actions add up and help create the favorable atmosphere for the change we seek at the corporate and political level.

Yesterday I replaced another few square feet of turfgrass in a client’s yard with tall native grasses and a flowering chive. It feels like slow going but every bit makes a visual difference in the neighborhood, by helping to shift the norm.

And I downloaded and shared, with several thousand people on social media, this beautiful concise PowerPoint presentation on the value of native landscapes. It’s by Florida native-gardening advocates Ginny Stibolt and Marjory Shropshire, and is one of many free downloads available on the resources page of Florida Native Plant Society’s website. (Though the publications are aimed at a Florida audience, the eco concepts and visual design principles are broadly applicable.)

Recently, a friend who lived in an HOA started drying her clothes on a clothesline. She had thought clotheslines were against the HOA rules, but when she read the fine print, it turned out they are allowed. She was thrilled.

When she asked me about ideas for next steps, I suggested she write a short article on her clothesline success and the benefits of sun-drying clothes, and submit it to her HOA newsletter and post it on NextDoor.

Onward … What are you working on? Got any successes you’d like to share?

Also please feel free to share your struggles. I struggle with plastic-packaged food; I find it almost impossible to avoid.

Gardens can be divided into objectives or purposes:

• Climate gardening (heat mitigation, stormwater absorption, drought-flood buffer, shade)

• Biodiversity gardening (habitat for pollinators and other wildlife)

• Food gardening (food, herbs, medicine for humans)

• Gardening for ornamental purposes only.

The last type of gardening — strictly ornamental — has gotten humanity into a lot of trouble.

Fortunately, any of the other types of garden can also provide beauty.

Another bit of good news is that the various types of garden can mix or overlap. For example, a food/medicinal garden for humans can also provide forage and habitat for pollinators and other wildlife. Native trees and shrubs can provide shade for tender annual vegetables. And, even in a native-plant garden designed strictly to support wildlife biodiversity, some of the plants are most likely edible to humans.

And, all of the above types of garden can serve to reduce heat, absorb stormwater, and mitigate drought-flood extremes.

All while giving sanctuary, education, and joy to the human visitors.

• “What Is Deep Adaptation? The Four R’s” (Deep Adaptation Forum). “Deep Adaptation offers four questions to help guide our inquiry into what kind of adaptation may be appropriate for our lives: Resilience: what do we most value that we want to keep, and how? Relinquishment: what do we need to let go of so as not to make matters worse? Restoration: what could we bring back to help us with these difficult times? Reconciliation: with what and whom shall we make peace as we awaken to our mutual mortality? With these ideas – and with the values of compassion, curiosity, and respect – we are embarking on a collaborative journey of understanding.”

• Deep Adaptation Facebook group. “A place for sharing information on our outer and inner deep adaptation to unfolding societal breakdown due to climate change. First, on emotional, psychological, and spiritual implications. Second, on our knowledge of practical means to support wellbeing during (and ahead of social breakdowns). … Collective action in a spirit of compassion is particularly welcomed, rather than defensive prepping for conflict.”

• Deep Adaptation Forum (deepadaptation.info website). “Embodying and enabling loving responses to our predicament. Connecting people, in all spheres of life, to foster mutual support and collaboration in the process of anticipating, observing, and experiencing societal disruption and collapse.”

• “The Love in Deep Adaptation” (JemBendell.com) “As we see more pain in the world, and sense that it will get worse, it is possible that we will shrink from it. It is easier to consider other people’s pain as less valid as one’s own pain or that of the people and pets we know. But there is another way. The suffering of others presents us with an opportunity to feel and express love and compassion. Not to save or to fix, but to be open to sensing the pain of all others and letting that transform how we live in the world. It does not need to lead to paralysis or depression, but to being fully present to life in every moment, however it manifests. This approach is the opposite of othering and arises from a loving mindset, where we experience universal compassion to all beings. It is the love that our climate predicament invites us to connect with. It is the love in deep adaptation.“

“Researcher Brene Brown told a story about a village where all the women washed clothes together down by the river. When they all got washing machines, there was a sudden outbreak of depression and no one could figure out why.”

“It wasn’t the washing machines in and of themselves. It was the absence of time spent doing things together. It was the absence of community.” (Basudha Modak, worldpulse.com)

In the comments section below that article, one person said she had washed clothes in the river when she was growing up. “We always looked forward to Saturday mornings to go wash our clothes.”

Along similar lines: In my first Permaculture Design Certificate course (back in 2005; taught by Scott Pittman), Scott told us about a village where the houses got running water so the people were “saved” from having to go fetch water from the village well. The problem with this improvement? It removed the main channel by which young people met and formed friendships; fell in love.

Also: I wonder if garage-door openers have led to a reduction in neighborly conversations? It wouldn’t surprise me.

Not to say that modern conveniences are bad in themselves; just to point out that such modernizations can have unintended consequences on personal and community wellbeing. Once we notice such consequences, we might be able to find ways to bring the community element back in.