Staying Present When the World Is on Fire

I live on a small island — Waiheke, fewer than ten thousand people, forty minutes by ferry from the major urban centre of Auckland. Walking at Oneroa Beach every day has become my mental health routine, especially now, with the current state of global affairs. Grounding myself in the place that holds me has become essential — a desperate act of keeping above water, keeping at bay a depression seeping into my being, resulting from a sense of despair about our collective malaise. Everything we have known seems to be crumbling around us. The relative peace of the post-Second World War era is disappearing, with no clear pathway to a hopeful future.

Things are tough at the moment — globally, locally, individually, collectively. Our mental health is affected. Our emotional health, our physical health. People feel overwhelmed, and I feel overwhelmed.

I used to be an avid reader of news. I would wake up in the morning and the first thing I would do was check the Guardian International, BBC, Al Jazeera, Euronews, and so on, to get a sense of what was happening in the world — because I felt it was a way of staying informed. Then I reached a point where, with everything happening, I could no longer absorb it. For the sake of my mental health, I had to stop.

And I had this feeling of: so what can I do? This was coming from someone who has always advocated the importance of personal agency and collective agency — of changing society, not giving up, being present. And I just felt I could no longer do it. I had no mental stamina. A sense of impotency: what is there for me to do, as a single person in the Southern Hemisphere, on a faraway little island, with no power, essentially?

Yes, I know the classic thing — engage your community, that’s where change happens. But what we are experiencing right now is unprecedented. We are overwhelmed at all levels. Where do we put our attention?

And there’s this very clever trick that capitalism has done — and even authoritarian societies have done — which is to say: it’s your responsibility. What are you doing to save the climate, the environment? The issues your community is facing, your country is facing, the global community is facing. That has heightened the sense of guilt. Why am I not doing the right thing? What do I need to be a more effective agent for change? And along with that came a great sense of impotency. Am I enough? Am I good enough? Am I effective enough — as a little cell in this global, pulsating, sick patient of a planet? And I’m not speaking only in terms of environmental crisis.

So I withdrew. I withdrew from a lot of the things I had been engaging with. I didn’t renew my Green Party membership. I stopped signing petitions, going to demonstrations. I felt a futility to all of it. So what? We march down the street and the war still happens. We march down the street and genocide happens in front of our eyes. So what?

And I dived into a space of depression. Depression is one way of describing it. I withdrew, and my spirits were truly dampened. Nothing. Nothing I can do, I felt.

And then I went to the island market, and I met a local activist who said: yes, I know what you mean — but I just do the best I can. It’s the only thing I can do. If that’s the only thing I can do, then at least I claim a sense of agency. Because if we give up that sense of agency — the sense that we, as individuals or small collectives, can demand accountability from those who were democratically or non-democratically elected — then what? Then what? That’s the only thing we have, and we need to safeguard it.

That conversation made me think: yes, I have an obligation. A moral obligation to go back to an engaged citizenry. I renewed my Green Party membership and started engaging again in conversations at my local café with people who are in the same space.

Would rejoining the Green Party make an immediate difference? Or even a distant one? Perhaps not. Perhaps in some small, incremental way. Perhaps not within my lifetime — I am 57 years old. But that’s all I have for now, and that should count. I choose not to be a passive cell in a cancerous tumour of the planetary body.

And I thought: what we need is conversations. We need to keep talking — not from a space of despair, but from a space of questioning. Is this the best we can achieve? Can we allow this to happen in our names? At the very least, we can engage in conversations that raise awareness of what a better future might look like — or, from a Buddhist perspective, a better present, since the future is far away. And that better present can start with questioning, with having conversations, with exchanging ideas. That’s also where we build tolerance for other opinions.

So gradually, I’m coming out of this self-imposed exile of impotency, and reclaiming my agency — because I think that hiding away, not engaging, is not the best way to safeguard your mental health either. By doing nothing, I was getting depressed. By doing something, I was getting anxious. So now I’m trying to find another way of expressing all of this, and in doing so, I’m reclaiming my creativity — because I believe that artists, creatives, and writers have a unique tool in their armoury: the ability to translate and catalyse what is happening around them.

This all came out of reading an article in Aeon titled something like “Speak to Your Shoemaker” — implying that if you can’t explain your philosophical, spiritual, intellectual, or creative ideas to a shoemaker, then you need to reposition your public engagement. This was based on Aristotle, who wrote complex treatises but also produced work in accessible, storytelling formats so that people could engage with his ideas.

And so I thought: as a narrative ethnographer, this is what I can do. I can take what I do in my work and translate it in ways that are engaging — that keep the conversations going in a way that people feel not intimidated, but perhaps inspired, enthused, or simply reassured that they are engaging with a fellow human’s ideas. Ideas that promote a sense of convivial reality: I understand you. You understand me. That’s a really good common ground from which to re-engage in the public sphere — and now we have all these tools that enable us to do this work.

So here is my take: don’t withdraw. Don’t let this impotency — don’t let the overwhelming weight of what’s happening in the world — isolate you. Because that is very tempting, and I have been in that space. And sometimes, perhaps, it’s justified for a little while. We need to look after ourselves.

But this is also a time when we need to look after each other — in communities, at work, out there on the streets and in public spaces. Look after each other. It’s the only thing we have, as humans, to support a movement that will address what is not right. And from there, collectively work together for something better.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

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Feedback from social media posting:

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"I have been thinking a lot about this too and I have for awhile thought I have to give up too. Ironically maybe, it was in the middle of excruciating mental and physical health problems last year when I felt that engaging in this age can and should look differently and that started learning new ways of doing my part. I share your sentiment that local action, as well as engaging with art and artistry is part of that. I found myself going back to poetry (a childhood passion) and language (a lifelong fascination), but also encouraging in any small way I can other people’s artistic pursuits and attending in awe as my daughters develop their own.

Your writing is wonderful, as always and I am grateful to have it in my life" - AH

Valia, this is so powerful and speaks to me so deeply. I have shifted a lot of my energy to the local too, and that is what nourishes me currently. Sending love. - MR

And read Rebecca Solnit! - SE

Love this, Valia! I've reached that point of desperation and depression a couple of times as well, but always found my refuge in writing. Even if it's just for 5 people on Vocal and my friends, it does help. - LK

A sense of powerlessness does cause depression so it’s important to remain engaged even if it’s at the micro level. I also feel I have to bear witness to the destruction and havoc being wreaked upon overseas communities and not turn away even though I cannot do anything about their pain, and even though it causes me great distress. Stay strong in these dark times and hold onto any light that makes life bearable. - AT

You are an AMAZING mentor, VaLiA, with a heart of gold to do good. I like that repositioning enables us to keep going, especially when we have great support from those who belong in our inner circles entered only through genuine trust, respect and humility. - DB

Yup don't focus on the chaos, make choices toward the highest vibration of love, don't get caught up in all the low frequency actions, keep moving from the heart every little action even just smiling at someone is something. I was feeling like nothing meant anything anymore, I think this is just that the old structures that no longer serve us disappearing. And as the external, old-world meanings fail away we are invited to look inward, and find our own truth. - SS

Valia,my dearest friend, peer at school in Crete,my forever friend...thank you for sharing this with the world!

The world is ,truly,a better place when people like you speak up Sooo eloquently!

Our ancestors in Crete bore arms to liberate our forever captured island!

You are doing something ever more potent...you use your astounding writing skill to "capture" our soul and self,which is stronger than bearing or using arms or military technology used at the moment!

Keep strong my friend! Keep sharing your powerful speech! So honored to be your friend!

Take care! - SM

Amen.xxxxxx - JV

I hear you, I feel the same. - LR

Dear Valia, i feel like you’re speaking for me - and maybe for many other activists/heart-tivists too. I have gone through very similar process and I am coming back, reclaiming my agency and reimagine the future . People like us are highly resilient, especially after good long rest. And we are also creative enough to find new ways- maybe not to ‘fight’ for anything, but to ‘plant a tree even though we know the world ends tomorrow’.

Pls know that your work matters. I still remember your presence, your voice during the training several years ago. Many times , your pure being is enough for the healing effects to take place. - NP

"So here is my take: don’t withdraw. Don’t let this impotency — don’t let the overwhelming weight of what’s happening in the world — isolate you. Because that is very tempting, and I have been in that space. And sometimes, perhaps, it’s justified for a little while. We need to look after ourselves."

This!!!!  I just talked to NP this morning and we talked about this. Somehow in between doing and being, reflecting, pulling and pushing, there's a pace for "nothingness" to present. And from nothingness, something is reborn and begins to evolve. - AK

Check out the book "The heroine's journey" - it talks about this process ! :") It's a profound reading for me to see my journey laid out in a non-linear way, and it makes so much sense for us to be, nurture ourselves in our liminal space until everything unfolds on it own. - NP