A sense of awe and wonder is so important in change work — so why do we forget this?
Last month, I flew across the world for a week-long global board retreat and also managed to prioritize some rest and relaxation by snorkeling in the Great Barrier Reef off the east coast of Australia.
And let me tell you, the snorkeling experience made me think a lot about systems change work and how, sometimes, we may be approaching it a little bit wrong.
I first got to Fitzroy Island as the sun was making its way down. In preparation for the next full day of snorkeling, I did a test run. I checked over my snorkeling gear — inspecting my stinger suit, trying on my snorkeling mask and mouthpiece — before I dipped into the water and started swimming along the reef. It was amazing to be immersed into a completely different world full of encompassing sights to absorb.
For a moment, everything was tranquil and still.
And then — all of a sudden — something that looked like a rock started moving!
It was then that I realized the “rock” I was staring at was looking up and staring right back at me!
I was face to face with a green sea turtle who was out for its evening snack. (BTW, green sea turtles are the same kind of turtles in the movie Finding Nemo. Fun fact: They are green primarily because of what they eat, which is seagrass and algae.)
In the moment when this turtle and I were gazing at each other, one thing I was really struck by was how big it was. We were comparable in height. This turtle’s shell alone was three-quarters my entire length! Given its size, it had clearly been around these waters for quite some time. (Another fun fact: green sea turtles live to about 70 years old.)
So there I was, hanging out with this turtle that I would have never even realized was there if I’d been standing on shore, looking into the water.
I thought to myself, wow, here’s this creature living an entire life in the coral reel. How magical!
You know, it’s so easy for us humans to forget about the magic that exists in our world when we get too wrapped up in our work. With my social change work in particular, it’s become centered around making the right policies, organizational structure, and all of the problems that result from systemic racism. A lot of the time, my focus is on some pretty heavy and serious topics, and I can get really stuck in a certain mode of operating — a mode that focuses overly on intellectualizing and making arguments for change based on intellectualizing and horror stories — such as sharing statistics and information about what plastic pollution does to sea turtles.
When I was a young environmental organizer, I spent a lot of my time on planes, in and out of my car, and I was always on the computer or on the phone. I used to rush between meetings, not really having time to go out to explore the places I was flying to. In those days, it was about how much money I could raise and how many connections I could make.
I didn’t have a sense of wonder about the work. I just had this internalized sense of: I need to work constantly and so hard, because my hard work will help prevent these corporations from doing terrible things.
It was disconnecting. And at a point, that go-go-go mode also resulted in burn out and a legitimate feeling of hopelessness and disillusionment, which as many of you already know, is the beginning of the death knell for change work. The thing was, I became emotionally exhausted because all I was trying to do was connect people to these terrible stories about terrible corporations doing terrible things.
When we amass a lot of bad stories, they weigh on us and drag us down. We start to believe the challenge is so insurmountable, and maybe there isn’t a point in trying to make change happen at all.
For a lot of my early career, I neglected to remember the optimism and magic that led me to social change work in the first place — the many hours spent rehabilitating birds of prey that made me wonder how I could help protect the environment. The optimism I had as a young kid spending summer evenings chasing after bugs in Spokane, Washington, as well as seeing elephants roaming the hills in India.
I know there are lots of reasons for us to feel anger, frustration, and fear in this challenging work. And for a short time, those feelings can definitely be motivating. But what I’ve found is that they sure aren’t sustainable or healthy feelings to hold inside. For me, to do this work for the long haul, I have to connect it back to something bigger than myself.
Looking at that turtle, I remembered my childhood. I remembered that I love wildlife. In India, I grew up seeing elephants in the wild, seeing all sorts of birds in every color the human eye can detect.
Looking at that turtle, I remembered, we need to share beautiful stories, too.
This sense of awe and wonder can be put to good, productive use! It doesn’t have to be some ephemera we use to re-energize ourselves and demarcate it from work. We can also fold it into our daily work lives.
For example, at the global board retreat I mentioned earlier, other board members and I came together and made big decisions, of course, following the formal agenda of the meeting — but we also got to go outside and see an echidna for the first time together. In between conversations about the nuances of climate change campaigns, we also found ways to prioritize connecting with each other in personal ways.
What we have to be better at in our work is reminding ourselves that very important social change is connected to the things that connect us to awe.
We all have to find the things that bring us that connection to the change work we’re passionate about — and we have to find it in the everyday (because I acknowledge that it’s not tenable for me or you to visit the Great Barrier Reef when we need to refill our sense of wonder!). For me, at home in Seattle, sometimes it’s just driving a little further out from the city, away from light pollution, and looking up at the sky to see the Milky Way and feeling like I’m part of something much bigger. Other times, it’s about watching the heron hang out on Lake Washington near my home.
For some folks in this work, it’s their children that instills in them a sense of awe and wonder. Others may find it hiking on their days off. And for some friends of mine, it’s really about being around people and building resilient immigrant communities.
Wonder can look different for everyone. This week, I humbly challenge you to go out and find what instills a sense of awe and wonder in you, and I urge you to remember it and revisit it often, especially when you have a particularly challenging week!
