As you can tell by this Enviro(ish) site, I have not blogged in over a year.  There’s a lot of reasons for that, excuses really, and one of them is that I’ve always questioned this online realm for impact.  Is it slacktivism?  Does it translate into impact in real life?  Who reads this anyways?  You do?  Awesome.  Thank you for that :)

But more importantly, the Trump era has drastically changed the landscape and re-defined the priorities of progressive causes so dramatically that I’ve been “in the weeds” as it were, trying to figure it out as it changes in real time. And just when I think I’ve seen the landscape enough to paint a picture of it here, it seems to shift.  I’ve been taking actions and redefining my theory of change, and I’m ready(ish) to share with you what I think, believe and know.  Truthfully, in any conversation about impact, you never really know what you’ve accomplished until the outcome stage.  “The proof is in the pudding” so to speak.  And so to be perfectly honest with myself and to you, for a long time I have struggled with writing this blogpost because when are you ever done?  The answer is never.  On this long arc of the moral universe as Reverend Dr Martin Luther King Jr said, I don't think we ever reach the end.  But that's not the point.  The point is we work towards bending it every day.

One of my founding principles, though, is never let the perfect be the enemy of the good or eco.  So here’s hoping this post helps you in one way or the other.

This idea for a post topic is in recognition of the numerous people asking me “but seriously Megan, how do you know which environmental organizations to give to that have the most impact?”  I am definitely going to answer that with a direct response.  But first I am going to walkthrough a few priorities on that journey.  While it may seem to swerve and wander, I can assure you it’s with necessity and intention. And I hope you end up having the impact you are truly seeking.

This is going to sound hokey, and new age…but honestly the MOST important thing about having an impact is growing your mindset.  Let the belief settle within you that *you* *can* make a difference.  We live in a world that simultaneously and often negates aspects of our identities, which can undermine our sense of self and especially self worth.  And it all comes wrapped in an ever increasing amount of disconnectedness and isolation.  I’m not here to disagree with any of those experiences that are genuine barriers to having an impact.

I am here to tell you one simple truth: if you believe you can’t make a difference, then you definitely won’t.

The individual belief that one person can’t make a difference is something we all share.  This feeling is universal.  This cuts to the core of our own insecurities as people.  Every human has this doubt.  But therein lies the unlock.  If every person had this same doubt, then so did Nelson Mandela, Reverend Dr Martin Luther King Jr, Mother Teresa, and Susan B. Anthony.  We talk about their legacies as though it was inevitable.  But in reading autobiographies of all these folks the theme of self-doubt is deep throughout.  Their doubt is the same doubt that we all share, and it is the relief valve towards progress.  They were just one person, too.  And their progress was not theirs alone.  Their progress was thanks to thousands, tens of thousands, maybe even millions of individual actions from people whose names we don’t know and were part of the movements they have come to symbolize.  Embrace the possibilities and hold space for awe at what can be accomplished.  And I've said before, if you have a case for optimism as the way to solve climate change, you can be optimistic about the change you seek too.

So if you want to have an impact, first, you have to believe you can.

The next four steps are after the jump, after this poem which always inspires me to bring my mindset back into the truth of infinite possibility.

I haven't posted a blog in a while.  Most of the reason is that in the post 11/9 Trumpster fire I am channeling my activities into a Facebook-Live-recorded daily resistance where every weekday I call my Republican Senator and curate a list of actions I'm taking to try to have an impact in these troubled times.  But to ignore the moment that started me on this journey would be not right.  It would make my actions seem a little too angelic and altruistic.  Whatever they seem to you I can assure you that I am not either.  

The catalyst that got me started with my first Facebook live on calling my Senator was a white guy.  A well-meaning but insistent white guy who after a congenial hour and a half coffee chat when I said "hey I have to go pick up some posters for the In Solidarity with Muslims March later" decided that was the time to try to talk about "the Resistance".  He self-proclaims to be an independent who in real terms is liberal/progressive and the conversation stayed congenial so it was 5 or 10 minutes into it that I realized he was trying to argue with me.  He was trying to correct me.  He was trying to mansplain where the Women's March got it wrong.  And the phrase that sticks with me is "you all have been so extreme and should find some policy goals and places to work together"...to which inside my head I said something to the effect of "what the fuck, are you kidding me???!?  How do you not see what's happening right now" And out of my mouth I said "I think we have a fundamental disagreement about what is happening to our democracy right now.  We are fighting for a return to first principles."  But he didn't give it up.  And so when I finally left, I went to the March and when I got back I was still stewing.  It made me so angry.  That this guy who placidly saw things, who wasn't personally impacted by the situation, who wasn't engaged in the struggle thought that instead of truly listening and learning that from his white ivory tower *he* knew what was best.  A guy who never lived in DC like I had.  A guy who had never been a Federal government contractor like I had been.  A white guy with all the privilege that it entails in "Manver", the nickname of my new city Denver.  Who the fuck does he think he is?  And why does he think it OK to overwrite my much more knowledgeable voice on this situation?

Focus not on my anger dear reader, I channeled that in a positive and constructive manner like I usually do.  It got me to do these daily resistance videos.  But do focus the latter.  My voice.  I recorded that first Facebook video just as a one-off to show that with a call to my Republican Senator because I decided that I wouldn't let his ignorance be something that lessened me.  That quieted me.   I refused.  I had the womens voices from January 21 still fresh in my head and they were so powerful, and they were so true, they called out to me like sirens, and I answered their call.

It's no secret that I'm a woman (gasp!).  And so it shouldn't be surprising that I take a lot of inspiration from the women who fought for 72 years to achieve the 19th amendment which gave me the right to vote.  I have been reading about Civil Disobedience and watching Suffragette and Selma and brushing up on the power of non-violent protest.  And there's one phrase that sticks with me:  Deeds Not Words.

It's used by the suffragettes when they finally give up on changing the system from within and advocating with their impassioned pleas, and changed tactics to take disruptive actions to achieve their aim of Votes for Women.  And the concept of "deeds not words" is true, basically a maxim of any theory of social change.  If we've learned anything from this election on a universal basis, I hope it's the fruitlessness of posting on Facebook or social media only.  It's how we all got our news, but it's a big echo chamber of people who agree with you.  Change in the real world cannot be slacktivist, it must be done through grassroots mobilization, through calls, through peaceful protest, through volunteering, through donation.

But I'd like to put this "deeds not words" thing down, flip it and reverse it.  I've found myself using this term to evaluate President-elect Donald J. Trump and I think it's a befitting measuring stick we should all use.  For the liberals and progressives and Democrats among us, I think it will help us maintain some sanity and steady on the helm.  (And not only because we cannot trust his word, since he's been "Pants on Fire", "False" or "Mostly False" 60% of the time out of 334 claims on Politifact....seriously, I can't really fathom living my life where only 15% of what I said was "Mostly True" or "True"....I'm pretty sure I would be unemployable if that were the case)

But more importantly because "deeds not words" put any other way is pretty much how we roll here in the United States of America...

[Read more below the jump]

My darlings.  My dear small handful of readers.  Even among you there is a diversity of thoughts and voting in this election.  I don't want to turn you away.  I want us to stay together and not break up.  Because dialogue and openness is the most important thing everybody needs right now.  Along with goodness, and you all are people I value so much.

I have to cheat on you though, and I want to tell you why.  11/9 changed me from who I was when I started this blog. I began this journey as encouraging you to be environmentalish and allowed myself and us all to believe that was the pathway to progress.  Do one thing.  Make it a habit.  Rinse, repeat.  That the drumbeat of progress on environment and climate would be steady at the national level - we had just made AMAZING gains - and you and I together just had to make small changes to our dailies to get there.  I was wrong.  I was heartbreakingly and painfully wrong.  In the wake of President Trump winning people have accused me of hubris, of thinking I'm "better than", of not listening.  They have said I only care about what happened in this election because my job depends on it.  They have laughed in victory at my Facebook posts of the grief cycle I'm going through after pouring myself into 15 years of environmental work.  They have attacked me personally for decrying the hate crime spike after this election.  They have called me a racist for defending minorities against that hate (no really, I quote: "the definition of a bigot").

I may have been wrong about this election, but those people?  They've got me all wrong.  Most of you know me in real life, so I know you might think this doesn't need to be said, but as a woman and an environmentalist, America just indicted me.  Slapped me upside the head and spit on me. Some of my fellow citizens just tumbled me to the bottom of Mt Everest with no oxygen and bricks in my backpack.  I'm gonna need to take a moment to assess my scrapes and bumps and bruises (done, check).  And now I need a minute of affirmation before I get back to climbing (spoiler alert: I WILL NEVER STOP CLIMBING). 

Who am I then? I am an optimist.  I am hopeful.  I believe in the importance of active listening, of going deeper than soundbites.  I look for the inspirational.  I love to laugh about things that should make us all weep (not kidding).  When I think about what I do every day when I get up and go to work, I think about whether I'm having an impact.  Whether I'm making a difference. I worked hard to learn my craft.  I practice what I preach.  I am a builder.   I am a Catholic.  I reach across the aisle.  And those people who want to bring me down?  Haters gonna hate.  Says a whole lot more about them than me.  And besides, I've long ago decide to be myself anyway.  And sounds like I'm in good company....PREACH AMBER, PREACH!
[Read more after the break]

I was very scattershot about podcast listening, but have recently discovered them while traveling (no eyestrain during turbulence!) which means with my work travel I'm becoming a regular.  Have a long car ride to Palm Springs? Finally caught up on the entirety of Serial season 1.  So over this past weekend, I went through a number of the TED Radio Hour podcasts, and this one about Crisis & Response had a great mention of something I had never heard before.  One of the segments is about a man who lost all of his money in the Madoff ponzi scheme.  He spoke about how he finally connected with others who lost everything who had decided to think about it differently....they had embraced with gratitude that the experience had made them more connected to others than ever before.  He ultimately learns as well to overcome the blaming and shaming of the experience, determining that just because he lost all of his money to Madoff, he didn't want to surrender who he was as a person as well.  

When pivoting towards advice for others to "prepare", he says two things which I agree with whole-heartedly:

1. Know that you will have a crisis in your life.  That the concept of living a charmed life free of crises is not possible for anyone, so that when something does take place that unbalances you, you only experience the shock of what your are actually losing or dealing with...not the amplified shock of "I can't believe something like this could ever happen to me".  Ummm...YES. 
   
2. He quotes a principle called basic trust, which I had not heard of before and am already 200% in support of:

(Read more after the jump)

This post took me a few days to write and get the courage to share...because for me this post is really hard.  I'm grateful that my job allows me to learn from the best in the field of engaging in race related conversations.  That being said, I'm white and I still suck at it.  Evidence in a recent  Facebook "conversation" that went poorly.  But I've learned to think of this as work, because that's what the "Courageous Conversations" class called it.  I've learned to think of engaging in the conversation as important to live my values, that silence is consent, that being neutral in the face of injustice is not the answer nor the way forward.  So here we are.  If you could read with a belief in my good intentions dear singular reader, I think we'll find our way onward together. 

Sunday September 11 passed and it was 15 years.  In the years since I've been humbled by people's experiences and loss. I like every other American have memories of that day, but some people's memories are more visceral and painful than others like mine. Finding out a classmate from business school was focused on renewable energy because he lost a brother that day and wanted to help get American dependence off foreign oil, that humbles me to this day.  About a month ago I watched The Falling Man, which is a horrifying refresh of the realities of that day, and of the sanitation we went through as a country to try to heal from this terrorism and tragedy.

But this year I wanted to do something other than post about it personally.  Rather than watch Zero Dark Thirty which has become my go-to way to deal with feeling terrorized.  Maybe I was inspired by the TED radio podcast the Act of Listening.  Maybe recently watching The Falling Man felt like enough remembrance of that day.  Maybe it was the fact that Straight Outta Compton on dvd was sitting on my table from Netflix that got me thinking.  Reminded me about #Oscarssowhite. And reading on why the ad industry's diversity initiatives are failing.  Got me thinking about Colin Kaepernick's nonviolent act of protest of kneeling during the anthem, and both the negative reaction he had received and the acts of support from fellow NFL players and one of my hometown female soccer athletes.  And my thought process was this: I wouldn't protest the anthem nor burn the flag, and I will fight for my fellow Americans Constitutional right to do so...but more importantly...why do they feel the need to do so? What is their experience that has driven them to do so on September 11, this sacred American day? 

I decided instead of looking online at the 9/11 remembrances and instead of posting on my Facebook, that this year I would spend that day listening.  That I would try to understand what I do not "get" based upon my own experience in the most accessible way I could: movies.  I would listen by watching Selma and Straight Outta Compton back-to-back as an active steeping in the African American experience and community.  And here's the thing that shook out for me by watching these two movies back-to-back that reach back to the 1960s and the 1990s:  how very little has changed.   Time has passed, but even this recent history has a way of repeating itself.

It's still hard for me to personally imagine kneeling during the anthem on September 11...but that's because I haven't faced the decades long injustices and struggle of African Americans in this country.  And if that were my experience, I would be hard pressed to find ways to get people to listen.  I would be out of avenues that weren't like kneeling during the anthem.  The backlash that has come to the leaders whose voices have been heard and led to change for these communities is severe.  In the 1960s, they were murdered.  In the 1990s, they were discounted and silenced in the mainstream media as thugs. 

What happened when NWA were interviewed by the mainstream media in the 1990s has almost no difference to the way we've engaged in the mainstream media about Black Lives Matter.  The average American and the media has only given space to address the "how" there's been engagement in the conversation.  The outrage at the method as a way to ignore the message.  I keep thinking what I would do if my voice wasn't heard and I felt my life was on the line?  Any rational human would say it louder or find new ways to get themselves heard, myself included. 

So through the act of listening in the way available to me, I empathized and I learned.  And decided firmly that it's not hard to see how we've gotten here at all.  I for one want to count my voice in with their movement for justice.  Silence is not the answer nor the way forward and I believe more people like me - aka white - need to be anti-racism not just not racist. 

I may just be one voice in the void, but I think it matters, because that's what enviro(ish) is all about:
Because you can despair that each action you take is only one tiny drop in the ocean....or you can be inspired that the ocean is made up entirely of tiny drops.

At my best friend's wedding in May, I caught up with a friend from college I hadn't seen in a few years.  She offhand mentioned Brene Brown and I asked who that was.  Her response included "you are basically what Brene Brown is all about."  So when I made it back home I watched her first TED talk on the Power of Vulnerability, immediately followed by her second TED talk on Listening to Shame.  Within 5 minutes of finishing I texted my friend and said how obsessed I had become with this message...how honored I was to be thought of as "whole-hearted"...and she sent me Brene's Daring Greatly book and I read it start to finish.  It's safe to say it has been a life-changing reframe for me.  I read the "Man in the Arena" aka "Daring Greatly" quote often to stay grounded and inspired.

If you have no idea what I'm talking about, I'd encourage you to take some time to listen to her TED talks in order.  For the purposes of this blog....finding inspirations that will keep us going...I enjoyed discovering Brene's talk to 99u, which is about supporting the "99% perspiration" principle in the creative community.  In it, she focuses on the sweat we expend because of fear of criticism and she extends the arena metaphor to walk us all through how to deal with critics and how to make sure we reserve the best seats for our champions and ourselves.

I love this talk (and I re-listen to it often!) because I think the messaging of feedback and criticism is missing what this brings to it.  In business school you have to be open to feedback and it's seen as extremely negative if you are not.  But we know there is some criticism that is not helpful, on the far end, there's bullying and trolls and the like.  So how do we differentiate constructive feedback from criticism and more importantly, how do we forge ahead when faced with a landslide of criticism?  The power is immense in what she's saying here...knowing what the critics will say and saying back: "I see you, I hear you, but I'm going to show up and do this anyway".   Bless.

Steep yourself in some Brene Brown...you won't regret!

So often what I face in my day-to-day eco-worklife is the same issue that we all face in our day-to-day lives.  Soundbites.  People who have already heard all they want to hear [insert person covering their ears and saying 'la la la laaaa'].  There are real hazards of people not being able to listen with empathy and understand another perspective.  We all have an inherent fear and ego of allowing ourselves to be challenged (let alone be proven wrong).  But it’s an absolute must, not just on the society but on the personal level.

I have so many posts I’ve wanted to write these last months as I transitioned jobs and made big life changes to a shiny new city.  This is the thing I wanted to say that tipped the scales (never fear though, Pope-est with the Mostest and Laudato Si will be coming in hot. Soon.)  And it’s all thanks to a communications lead at Monsanto.
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Last year I came to SXSW Eco and sat in the panel session when Monsanto underwent what I can only describe as a live feeding frenzy of pent-up anti-GMO fervor.   A courageous woman from Monsanto did one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen from a sustainability professional: she invited more conversation in the heat of the moment.  Which is exactly what these most thorny issues desperately need the most.  Real dialogue.  But how do we get there?  How do we increase everyone’s personal responsibility to listen better?