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Wildfires, Climate Grief, and the Path to Climate Action
- 6 hours ago
- 4 min read
By Community Climate Hubs Coordinator Intern, Ehsia Thanda
For most of my adolescence, caring about the climate felt like enough. I signed petitions, avoided meat, attended climate protests, and trusted that the adults in power would eventually do what science demanded. What I didn't yet understand was the difference between caring from a distance and being truly confronted by a climate disaster.
At the peak of summer in 2021, this understanding shifted dramatically. While on a road trip into the interior of British Columbia, the province was plagued by a multitude of forest fires stemming from climate change. I was confronted by these devastating realities as flames engulfed entire stretches of the Coquihalla Highway. This exposure, one that I never anticipated to see beyond a screen, compelled me to recognize the urgency of the climate crisis and the collective responsibility we must take for our actions.
Understanding the implications of corporate greed in the climate crisis, and how many large corporations (particularly logging, mineral extraction, and oil companies) exacerbate disasters like wildfires in BC is imperative to determining the main climate culprits and actionable next steps. Burning fossil fuels results in hotter and drier conditions by releasing greenhouse gases that increase the frequency and intensity of forest fires. Approximately 79% of greenhouse gas emissions are from the production and use of coal, oil and gas, resulting in more extreme forest fire weather.
Mining and mineral extraction decimate biodiversity, leaving behind environmental destruction and disaster, such as Mount Polley, where roughly 25 billion litres of mining waste were expelled into pristine waterways. On August 4, 2014, the breach released toxic copper-and-gold slurry into Polley Lake, Hazeltine Creek, and Quesnel Lake, considered one of Canada's worst mining accidents.
As is well known, BC’s economy is largely driven by the forestry industry, constituting 24% of the province’s total exports. While logging practices have decreased in recent years, forestry regulation remains inadequate at reducing wildfire risks.
The BC Forest Practices Board reported that “logging occurs at eleven times the rate of wildfire risk reduction treatments,” revealing a significant gap between industry practice and wildfire mitigation that poses a significant threat to community safety and ecosystems across the province. The wildfires devastating BC are the compounding result of decades of corporate extraction and emissions; addressing them meaningfully requires confronting the economic interests that continue to drive them.
Old-growth deforestation persists even as less than 3% of the most productive, large-tree ecosystems remain. Since the 2020 release of A New Future for Old Forests, advocates have criticized the province's lack of progress on the report's 14 recommendations, arguing the government is deliberately failing to reform management practices in these ecologically vital landscapes.
After witnessing the environmental destruction caused by the wildfires, I was consumed with anger, sadness, anxiety, and shock. I had never felt more compelled to take action, but, at the same time, felt a deep helplessness and uncertainty of how to engage. How does one grieve a forest fallen from climate change, the creatures and communities inhabiting it, and cope with an overwhelming disappointment in humanity?
I began by returning to what grounds me. Spending intentional time with the lands I love, having candid conversations with my community, and deepening my yoga practice. With these practices and awareness, I became more grounded, empowered, and connected to my involvement in the climate movement.
I also took the time to define my capacities in climate action, by understanding what I had to contribute and being honest about my strengths and limitations. This meant recognizing that effective climate action doesn’t require doing everything, but doing something well. Britt Wray’s Generation Dread: Finding Purpose in an Age of Climate Action helped reframe my climate grief and anxiety, guiding me to recognize my boundaries, tap into my strengths, and transform my dread into purposeful action.
In the winter of 2023, I began volunteering at a small community organization offering free, bi-weekly yoga classes to the Montreal community. While guiding these sessions and understanding the debilitating weight of unresolved climate grief, I wondered how yoga could be used as a modality to transform solastalgia into empowered climate action.
Inspired by this curiosity, each practice holistically weaved breathwork, movement, and meditation, inviting practitioners to connect with themselves, their intentions, and purpose. Drawing on the yogic principle of seva – selfless service – these classes bridged the inner work of spiritual and emotional healing with climate advocacy, reminding practitioners that caring for oneself and caring for the Earth are deeply intertwined.
The path forward is not without grief. Forests will continue to burn, and the corporations extracting their way through our shared future will not yield easily. I have learned that despair and determination are not opposites but companions, that must be processed with compassion to be transformed.
If you are struggling with climate grief, start by giving yourself the space and permission to process your feelings. Journaling, talking with people you trust, spending time with the lands you love, and considering resources like Britt Wray’s Generation Dread: Finding Purpose in an Age of Climate Action that can support transforming your grief into purpose.
Once you feel centred and supported, take the time to define your capacities and understand what climate action looks like for you given your strengths, circumstances, and what you can realistically sustain.
From there, allow your personal grounding practices to serve as the foundation for your advocacy. A regulated nervous system makes informed decisions, sustains longer commitments, and is more capable of caring for others–guiding you to engage in climate action that is rooted in purpose rather than driven by panic.
While the tension between grief and agency is not a comfortable place, it is an honest one that builds resilience, community, and the systemic pressure that meaningful climate action demands.
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