This post is from the mind and heart of Leslie, one of The Branches’ co-directors and co-owners.
Lately we’ve been (lightly) waxing poetic about summer in our recent posts, saying things like it doesn’t last forever, or it only comes once per year, and asking how you like to make the most of it. Gardening, beach-days, camping, or maybe hiding out in the A/C or basement with a good book?
Yoga in the Park, a staple of Branches summers, wrapped up yesterday a week later than planned. We had to dip into our reserved rain dates to make up for a cancellation earlier in the season. But this free community offering hadn’t been cancelled due to rain – it was the abysmal air quality.
No matter how each of us likes to spend the season, for nearly a week last month, summer was no longer about seizing the day, it was about… surviving. The wildfires in Northern Ontario that resulted in what was sometimes the worst air quality in the world had us canceling outdoor activities, shuttering windows, and for some, wearing masks while outdoors as a way of protecting our health.
I sometimes think (more like delude myself into thinking) that I did all my grieving around climate disasters decades ago when I first started reading the work of thinkers like John Michael Greer and Joanna Macy. Then this year’s heavy smoke – and the five-day self-imposed prohibition on going outside – brought a fresh wave of despair. The fact that I am now a parent adds its own weight. A more realistic expectation might be that these feelings will renew themselves alongside other markers of climate changes on cyclical, incremental, and even exponential patterns.
If I can sit with these feelings, I remember that there are a few things I already know for sure about climate stress and its causes: one is that it doesn’t do me any good to pretend it doesn’t exist. So thanks for reading this letter and joining me in recognizing our shared reality. Another truth is that whether or not we feel that correcting the course of human civilization is possible, we still need to adapt to the daily and yearly fluctuations of climate patterns as they get wilder and weirder. And finally, we need to do that adapting together.
One sign of adaptation on a micro scale at the studio is that three summers ago, extreme heat events became frequent enough that we had to add a heat wave policy for yoga in the park and classes on the back deck. Two summers ago, we added one about air quality due to the increasing incidence of wildfire smoke. Weather extremes are no longer rare or anomalous, so new norms required guidelines our staff could refer to. We’re grateful for the HVAC system we chose when we renovated the building – it includes top-of-the-line HEPA air filtration – but we are considering additional resources to enhance the indoor air quality even further. We take our responsibility to provide a supportive space in which to practice seriously, which includes the basics, like air.
We also aim to emobdy the values of resilience-building and social change, and these feel relevant in specific ways in light of ecological and climate disaster. There is a time and place for personal resilience, and we sincerely hope that your yoga practice and strength training sustain you mentally, emotionally and physically for the joys, but also for the challenges that the coming years and decades will bring. If you’ve been feeling frozen in the face of all that is f*cked up in our province, consider this your reminder and gentle nudge (or hearty pull) that you should still come do your deadlifts, your supported sidebends, or whatever practice keeps you clear-eyed and afloat. The world needs you feeling good enough to show up and share your gifts as we navigate difficulty together.
Having a safe(r) environment for practice might mean the building or room itself, but our responsibility doesn’t end at the doorway to the studio. Adaptation isn’t just air purifiers, and resilience must go beyond our own joints and mental attitudes. Let’s not forget that for some Ontarians, including those of settler-descent, but much more so Indigenous northerners, that the wildfire smoke has been a concern of minor importance compared with the fires themselves, which destroyed homes and displaced thousands. From our home-base in Kitchener, we can’t do the work of rebuilding the communities, but we can contribute to immediate emergency needs, especially through our chequing accounts. Here is an article that outlines a mix of specific First Nations, and some larger organizations that support those affected by the wildfires, who could really use our donations.
When surges of chaos or emergencies rise, I have to coach myself to do two things: one is to access whatever inner and outer resources I have to stay present instead of numbing out, and the other is to find a balance between dealing with present and future challenges, and connecting to joy so that I don’t wind up back in numbness. Easier said than done, but barbells and bolsters are not just to grow my resilience, they are a part of my presencing and joy practices, too.
There is so much more I want to say about our provincial and federal governments and the choices they’re making that seem not to respect our shared home here on Earth. But I’d rather hear back from you. How did you deal with our smoky air last month? Are there any beliefs or affirmations you say to yourself when a wave of climate chaos spikes up? Do you have any charitable organizations, or other forms of support you’d like to tell us about? We love hearing from our Branches community, about this, and everything.
Yours in solidarity,
Leslie
A few weeks ago, Leena and I went to a climate change support group. The event alternated between conversations in pairs and as a whole group. We talked about our love and appreciation of nature and our pain and worry at seeing the climate crisis evolve. We ended by envisioning new actions we could take, as individuals and as communities. 
The Branches 