Maegan Custodio From the trees to the sunshine to the soils of the Earth, I have learned to love and appreciate all aspects of nature. To be a steward of nature, to protect it, care for it, not to harness it and abuse it. Being able to work on the farms has allowed me to appreciate ways to cultivate the Earth, while maintaining its ability for self rejuvenation. When a community loves the Earth enough, nature shows its gratitude and provides for the community.
This was not only seen in the community gardens, but also in the readings. Braiding Sweetgrass emphasizes an overall appreciation of Nature and its elements. Not to view climate change as a thing to fight off, but to change the perspective and relationship we have with the Earth. To create a relationship filled with understanding and care, a mutually beneficial relation that sustains the community and Nature itself.
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Joyce Pang When my dad asked me what this class was and what we were learning about, I couldn’t find the words to explain to him the significance of the class. “So you just visit farms? What does that have to do with fighting climate change?”
CJARs has given me so much joy and radical hope and has helped me build deep relationships rooted in shared values of community and the belief that we all deserve better. It has helped me rethink the way I think about climate change and reminded me of the importance of childish play, imagination, and joy in social movements. Perhaps what summarizes it the best is what Frank said on our first visit to the S+S family ranch. He was talking about the history of the land, the terrible smell of Rosie's breath (the farm dog), and the way that we frame climate change. How through “Fighting”, “defeating”, and “tackling” climate change”, all the language we use around climate change is the language of war. “Nobody wants to be at war for their whole lives”, he said. Instead, he framed it as an act of care, and act of love. Maintaining a close relationship with our land, land stewardship, respecting the world around us, and creating systems of care, reciprocity, and mutual aid, rather than profit and extraction. Loving our planet – isn’t that what we were all taught to do in kindergarten? To truly overcome climate change and create a livable future for us all, we need to recognize the root problem (a system that prioritizes profit over people, incentivizes endless extraction, and enables destructive, selfish behavior) and work toward collectively imagining, experimenting, and creating a better world. A radical reimagining of what is possible, what is “progress”, a transformation of power structures, a revitalizing of community care, the creation of community resilience, a revolution of love. A large transformation of society is not possible without community care networks — an intrinsic part of building resilience and collective resistance. To create inclusive liberation movements, community care structures are necessary to care for each other’s health and safety, to make food to sustain the revolution, to share grief and joy, to renew commitments to goals, to strengthen and renew commitments to goals, and to make sure that a lack of income, family, resources, etc aren’t barriers to getting involved. There is a long history of radical community-care networks, such as the Black Panthers Free Breakfast for Children program, and the dissolving of private family structures into communal care and labor during revolutionary movements, such as the 2006 Oaxaca Commune. Similarly, during the Dakota Pipeline protests (which lasted for months), there were daily community meetings where people strategized, shared joy and grief, called on ancestors for strength and courage, and reminded themselves of why and who they were fighting for. Today, as Palestinians endure genocide and unspeakable horrors, the brief moments of joy, weddings, and dance in refugee camps amid the bombing strengthen their faith, the culture of resistance, and inspire radical hope. Radical hope and joy, often inspired through prayer, as well as calling on strength from ancestors and the collective, are crucial in fighting imperialism and colonialism, and in nurturing a spirit of resistance amidst a seemingly unwinnable fight. In my lifetime, I have seen border walls constructed to keep the “wrong type of person” out, police harassing and kicking out homeless families for simply existing in the “wrong place”, and cities ruined, families destructed, and children bombed for profit. But I have also seen volunteers drive daily into border encampments to deliver supplies and construct temporary shelters, grassroots mutual aid efforts to provide care for the community, and millions across the world rise up and protest in the streets in solidarity. What is that, if not love? I guess what I’m trying to say is that the most all-encompassing, radical, un-exclusionary love is the creation of a better world for us all (revolution). And that the revolution is fueled by, created by, imagined by, and forged through love. To me, the realest lovers have the hearts that beat the hardest at the sight of injustice. To me, love is systemic. Love is resistance. Love is mutual aid. Love is a system of care, not one that prioritizes profit. To love is to fight against oppression. The English language only has one word for love. In “Learning the Language of Animacy” in Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer writes that the Potawatomi language is a language of verbs, rather than nouns. She writes that “a bay is a noun only if the water is dead. When bay is a noun, it is defined by humans, trapped between its shores and contained by the word. But the verb “wiikwegamaa - to be a bay - releases the water from bondage and lets it live. “To be a bay” holds the wonder that, for this moment, the living water has decided to shelter itself between those shores, conversing with cedar roots and a flock of baby mergansers.” Just like Potawatomi verbs can emphasize the fluidity and animacy of nature, we can create phrases that emphasize mutual relationships and different ways of loving. To splash is to be loved by the water. To tan or freckle is to be loved by the sun. To run or fly is to be loved by the wind. To be dirty is to be loved by the soil. To eat is to be loved by the Earth. The construction of a language maps our relationship with each other and with the world around us. To build a world built around love, we must first change the way we think about the world, which starts with language. Instead of “crushing” capitalism, “defeating” global imperialism, and “demolishing” oppressive systems, maybe the “fight” is instead a movement to reconnect everyone on Earth to the heart — the collective loving aching heart of the world, lifeblood of the revolution, roots of the unbreakable human mycelium. Zachary Bickel Growing up in Virginia, there has never been much education around climate change. I had friends who believed in it but weren’t passionate about it. They were quite the opposite, often stressed or ignorant to the issues facing our planet. Up until I joined CJARS, the conversation around climate change for me has been stressful and sad. I was upset at how our society treated nature, and the disconnect that most people had from it. Through CJARS I have found a community that’s even more passionate about climate change than me. My cohort inspires me to do more and love more. Something that resonated with me when I heard it but continues to resonate with me is what Frank from S&S farms said during our visit. He said that we didn’t need to fight climate change but embrace it. This class has taught me to give more love, have more fun, and to be excited about what the future holds even if it seems out of reach and stressful.
Something else that this class has taught me is the importance of community. I’ve really enjoyed all of our outings to the community gardens and farms. Doing work with my hands and that exhausts me is super rewarding, but I also felt like I connected with the community while working. I’ve never gardened or done any work on a farm before CJARS, and it surprised me how much a community could bond over working compost or planting celery. Gardening is also a way to connect with nature that I didn’t expect to feel as rewarding as it does. In my mind, I connect with nature by going out to hike or climbing a super cool rock. I didn’t recognize gardening as something that connected me to nature on the same level as my nature hobbies. I now garden every week at a garden on UCSD campus and I’ve found a fun community full of so much passion. It has inspired me to learn more about community hubs and placemaking, solutions that our individualistic communities could use more of. I hope to go into the future creating spaces for community that grow and make big impacts within their communities. Claire O'Connell “From Starfish I have learned that if we keep our core intact, we can regenerate” (Emergent Strategy p. 124)
Through this course I’ve gained a deeper understanding of what keeps my core intact. Engaging with nature, I’ve realized, is one of my biggest sources of strength and revitalization. I think my first insight to the wonders of engaging with nature was the day we spent at S&S Friendly Farm. I’d never even pictured myself mulching, weeding, or gardening before, so I was shocked by how much I loved it and felt it fueled me. I left that day energized, excited, and ready to start a garden of my own! The books we’ve read, All We Can Save, Emergent Strategy, and Braiding Sweetgrass, have also been such an important reminder for me of just how much nature can teach us. Corals symbiotically working with algae is an incredible reminder of the cruciality of working with and learning from my classmates. Birds taking turns leading and coasting as they migrate is a reminder to step up and take charge at some points, but rest and recharge at others. The ocean turning from serene and calm to crashing and powerful, and then back to quiet and peaceful is a reminder of how natural it is to be ever-changing. I think that because I’ve felt such a deep connection to and appreciation for nature through CJARS, immense feelings of gratitude have bled into other aspects of my life, as well. I’m feeling so connected to and at peace with my friendships and my community. Additionally, because I’ve noticed how good I physically feel when I garden or weed, I’ve been noticing how activities such as dance and pilates make me feel more in-tune with and appreciative of my body, as well. I’m thrilled to continue learning from the earth within CJARS, and I’m excited to carry this mindset with me after, as well! Levi Berge-Wells A few weeks ago, my Climate Justice Action Resilience Scholars Program cohort visited the S&S Friendly Ranch, a black-owned farm in southern San Diego committed to sustainable agriculture and community building across generations. As we toured the rain-dampened fields and listened to Frank the 4th, who took over from his father Frank the 3rd, describe their organic growing practices, I felt my hope for impactful climate action reignite.
Our group aims to promote climate resilience and justice, especially within vulnerable communities. We focus specifically on increasing access, agency, and power for frontline populations—those facing the earliest and most severe climate change impacts due to marginalization. Turning shovels of rich compost amongst the fresh green grass and grazing goats at S&S Ranch, seeing the bounty springing from healthy soil nurtured back to fertility through regenerative methods, I glimpsed the change we wish to spur. The farmers described the evolution of the farm, how they arrived at their regenerative practices, and the thinking it required. Letting go of longtime practices to adopt regenerative techniques wasn’t easy, despite understanding the harm pesticides and synthetic fertilizers cause. Unlearning is challenging and making an effort such as S&S Friendly Ranch economically feasible is difficult. Yet they made the leap for the health of their family, land, and community. Their bravery and growth mindset represents the type of individual commitment and collective action responding to the climate crisis calls for. If we open our minds to new ways of inhabiting our world, a groundswell of hope and change follows. As rain misted our faces, I grasped shovelfuls of nitrogen-rich compost, turning each steaming pile in sequence. Gazing across the vibrant green fields surrounding me, I recalled the coalition-building power within our scholar cohort. Individually, we each bring valuable skills and perspectives on environmental justice needs within our neighborhoods. Yet by joining together, and sharing struggles and solutions across communities, we gain strength and wisdom. The countryside flowering around me suddenly symbolized the fruits our collective efforts could yield region-wide. Under gray clouds clustered atop distant hills, our group clustered under sparse shade structures, asking probing questions about navigating and reforming oppressive systems. The open dialogue and mutual vulnerability bound us tighter, like vines tangling tender shoots across our feet. I understood anew how growing power and resilience live in relationships. Not just with each other but with the land. The S&S farmers spoke of their ambitions to grow mushrooms, produce nutrient-rich compost for the surrounding community of farms, as well as growing food while avoiding monocultures that weaken resilience. I saw our cohort reflected in the farm’s biodiversity, each of us lending unique gifts to strengthen our shared mission, our roots interconnecting underground even when our branches reach for separate sunlight. Soaked to the bone and shivering, dirt crumbling between my toes, I felt profoundly hopeful for the first time in a while. Despite the rain dampening California’s drought-stricken agriculture, this humble generational farm hummed with abundance. Proof of what’s possible when we connect to earth and community, guided by ancestral wisdom passed down decades. The change we wish to see begins with courageous individuals coming together, rooted in place and bonded by care for our common home. If we nurture the soil and nurture each other, resilience and justice can bloom even in fragile times. Jenny Chau I really enjoyed this Saturday’s outing to two community gardens. You can really tell that it's all community based, every had a part in each, whether the were experienced or just a beginner, they had a part to play. You didn't have to get messy, you could even just play with Guinea the guinea pig or in their little music area at Project new village. But the very best part of these outings are just talking to community members who you never thought you would have.
At Project New Village, I had a very vivid conversation with a member, I don't remember if we had exchanged names, but it felt so nice and comforting to have someone in such a different time in their life relate to me and have similar opinions about how to build up communities in San Diego as we discussed other communities in other areas that we were previously in. It really shows how we so much more similar that we think and it just takes a simple conversation to really encapsulate this. At the Oceanview Growing Grounds, I had a simpler conversation, but a similar reflection. I had talked to a volunteer named Juanita who seemed proud of the community garden and knew so much about it despite being the first time back in a month. She had brought her daughter that day and I had went with her to pick some sweet peas for her grandma. She was so excited to pick a few for her as she knew her grandma would enjoy them, and it just reminded me of when I used to garden at school and would do the same exact thing. I would be so proud to bring home something I helped grow and to see people I love eat and cook with it felt so satisfying. I really liked the little break from my routine academic life where I wouldn't even go and look at nature sometimes, so these required outings, though very early in the day, are very needed sometimes. Lola Marquez The design of our current world often reflects a strict division between nature and people. This separation has ingrained perspectives that I feel resemble a parasitic relationship with the natural environment. We take, take, and take some more, but when will do we recognize the harm… when it impacts us firsthand? One of the recent articles assigned to us was about what an eco-civilization would look like. An ongoing theme presented was the emphasis on the need for symbiosis between humans. Our existence in general constantly experiences the miracle that is natures symbiosis. From swimming in the ocean, to the warmth of the sun shining through a window, ecosystems are working together to sustain themselves. But how can humans translate that into our own society? There is so much to learn from nature, its relationships, and the ecological serenity. Our current constant extraction of natural resources reflects our principles of human’s dependence on the exploitation of others instead of all parties gaining in value through fairness.
With symbiosis… “there is no zero-sum game: The contributions of each party create a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts.” I firmly believe that CJARS reflects this perspective. Each and every individual is unique in their own way, but we are able to share the common ideals of fostering community, love, and respect for each other and the natural environment. This Aristotle fundamental bleeds through within our retreats, excursions, and day to day activities. Visiting Ola Farms, planting all the vegetables, weeding, and nurturing the soil was done in no time and within a few months, the product will feel astronomical. I remember the joy on Eric’s face as we requested to do another row, our hands held so much power in the soil, nourishing the planet while understanding the importance of growing food to nourish ourselves too. I see CJARS as a force of nature, demonstrating the power of people. As we did our Pecha slides at the Anzo-Borrego retreat, I admired the niche interests of individuals, all with the underlying core values of appreciating and respecting the environment. CJARS has taught me how to care for one another, despite differences, finding common ground that helps guide passions. It has developed a more imaginative state that I have lacked for many years, constantly seeking how I can strengthen my relationships with nature including humans. I write this in hopes of proposing a more symbiotic relationship between humans, one that expands beyond the walls of the Climate Action Lab. I added into an image of the crops we planted at Ola Farms. Looking back at all the beautiful rows, the plants are still small and will take months to grow. But that is okay… this reminded me that beautiful things take time and must be cared for to grow. Heavily correlating with personal relationships in my life, you must continue to nourish the sprouts or else they cannot bloom properly. As the world constantly shifts around us, it is important to stay grounded and reminded of the beauty of growing relationships and closeness between others. I am excited for the CJARS course to continue and watch my relationships with others blossom parallel to our crops at Ola Farms. Riccardo Gavardoni In a fast-paced, profit-motivated world, getting disconnected from the little things around us is easy. We are so occupied with our day-to-day lives that we forget to appreciate many of the simple things in life. This is especially true regarding our food, water, waste, and each other. I certainly struggle with this, but our recent class visit to S&S Friendly Ranch really helped me better understand and appreciate the importance of seeking connection with the land and how that also improves our connection with each other. At the ranch, they have a clear goal - to nurture an understanding of the interconnectedness between life and the Earth and to instill in students and community members a deep appreciation for the living essence of the land. By participating in the process of growing food, taking care of animals, composting, and more, I expressed profound respect and gratitude for the simple acts of taking care of the land that I feel is often missing from our lives.
As someone who has experience gardening and trying to increase waste diversion on campus at UCSD, I've noticed that when people are significantly disconnected from the source of their food and its production process, it becomes so much easier to waste and throw it all away into landfills. However, the beauty of growing food and composting is that you’re challenging a culture of disposability by participating in a cycle of love. You take care of the land, ensure it has the proper nutrients and management, and then it will love you back by providing nourishment and the ability to continue the cycle with further composting. This is a lovely and rewarding experience that I am passionate about sharing with others. I believe that working together as a group can make this journey even more fulfilling, allowing us to extend our love and compassion to the land and to one another. Moreover, the rain during our outing offered a valuable lesson on resilience. Just as we were getting started with our activities, the rain picked up, drenching us and causing us to take a break to regroup and warm up. However, it was the moment when everyone came together, drenched and cold, to start a fire and get things back up and running again that left a lasting impression on me. Witnessing our group's spirit and ability to adapt was inspiring. After the rain, the sun always shines a little brighter, reminding us to appreciate the beauty in both the good and the bad moments of our lives. As the rain finally stopped, we could continue our activities, grateful for the warmth and light the sun brought. The experiences of our class outing were very fulfilling, through a collection of small moments that taught me so much and gave me a genuine appreciation for the people and ecologies around me. I am grateful for the opportunities this class has offered me, as it has given me a new perspective on compassion and appreciation, and I look forward to sharing my experiences with others. Jill Walker This Saturday, I joined my classmates to attend the Love Your Wetlands Day at the Kendall-Frost Mission Bay Marsh Reserve. I arrived bright and early to help Dr. Stan Rodriguez unload the tule reeds for his boat making booth at the event. This experience gave me a moment to reflect on how minimal my needs truly are in regards to achieving genuine happiness and joy. Because of the structure of our civilizations, I've noticed the influence of capitalist greed and hyper consumerism on how my peers and I perceive what is essential for our lives. Our societies' continuous encouragement to buy more and waste contributes to a feeling that we will never have enough. As I was organizing the bundles of reeds with people of all kinds of positions in the climate crisis, I felt an intoxicating sense of gratitude flush through me and I was reminded of how simple it is to replenish my heart and soul. This left me to wonder what are necessities and what are accessories for a human's well-being.
The morning was filled with so much love for the Earth and an appreciation for the gifts nature provides. In our CJARs class we discuss texts that explore hopeful, imaginative perspectives on the poly-crisis our current and future generations are confronting. Although each reading contributes crucial insight to the conversation on solutions and strategies, my particular favorite is "Braiding Sweetgrass" by Robin Wall Kimmerer, a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation and a botanist. As a lover of philosophy and ecology, I find this text to be a beautiful interpretation of life and what it has to offer. She personifies nature, cultivating feelings of empathy for the planet's declining health through her stories of how the Earth has provided so much nurture to her and her family. This marriage of science and spirituality creates a new dialogue about how we should approach action as a community, with an emphasis on the combined effects of education and connection. We need to tug on the tethers that tie us together and to the planet. We must recognize the diverse value each person can provide for our communities. We have to recognize what will serve people's needs and what serves the desires we were conditioned to have by the industrialization of our world. Just as the Earth provides for us, we must practice providing for each other in absence of personal gain. Arlene Grace D. Nagtalon As the Climate Justice Action and Resilience Scholars (CJARS) Program ends it’s second year, I’ve quickly come to realize how necessary these two courses are; not just for students to broaden their knowledge as climate justice advocates, but because it’s a transformative experience unlike any other that a typical student would find at UCSD. Sure, two six-unit courses taken consecutively from winter to spring quarters might sound like an additional stressor to any other student’s course load, but these classes are hefty for a reason. The added reflections, class outings, and days spent brainstorming to host not just one, but two, Climate Justice and Resilience Fests on campus and at the Ocean View Growing Grounds give these courses a reputation for being anything but your ordinary class.
Coming from the perspective of a Molecular and Cell Biology major, I knew that being part of CJARS was a huge risk. Unlike a majority of my peers, I didn’t know anyone upon first stepping foot into the Climate Action Lab since most people in this program were either Anthropology, Urban Studies and Planning majors, or some other type of social studies discipline. I believe that the only other biology major in the room was one of my UGIAs (Undergraduate Instructional Assistants) Kyra Black, a marine biology major but they and every other person in the room, regardless of their major, brought valuable insights and perspectives from many different walks of life. And from the moment I got accustomed to my Nate and Cassi, two friends and anthropology majors that I’ve made in class who I often shared rides with to outings, I realized how accepting they and everyone else in the class were. Even if we all studied a plethora of majors and minors, each of us shared a love for the environment, the Earth, and communities around us that have helped to sustain the world as it's sustained us since the beginning of time. Classes held once a week each Friday from 9-11:50 AM were nearly structured the same, where we began with a check-in and group meditation, participated in a lecturette or listened to a guest speaker, then dove into our reading discussions with book club-like talks and questions about what we read. Personally, I enjoyed body scans and check-ins the best since I felt validated for the crazy emotions I felt in the best and worst of times, and during each body scan I took part in, I discovered a new ache, soreness, and pain that I simply brushed aside to worry about later. As a recovering perfectionist, commuter student, workaholic, and slave to the quarter system, I’m too often surrounded by influences telling me to never stop working, or else I’d fall behind in comparison to my friends who continued to be productive until they reached their limits. With CJARS, the Climate Action Lab became my solace away from all of that. I’ve cried more than once being in this class as I reflected on personal issues and struggles, but that should be a testament to the brave space we foster together by continuing to be our genuine selves by embracing vulnerability together. And especially as a STEM major, it’s the survival of the fittest out there in each lecture hall I sit in. I’ll admit, it feels like I’m wasting away competing with my peers to always get the best grades and stay on top of everything since my professors feel like they don’t care about how I’m doing outside of the classroom. With CJARS, I know that these people care. Dr. Lewis cares. And if there’s anything I can proudly take away from this program, it’s that the care for ourselves directly correlates to the care we provide to our communities and to our environment. Not to mention that the outings to gems and hidden treasures of farms and community gardens have made me appreciate my love of San Diego a lot more and made me proud to call this place my home. My complaints for San Diego have stopped once I took the time to realize and reflect on just how beautiful the sunsets, oceans, trees, and scenery truly are, especially those who’ve taken care of Mother Earth centuries ago before my time. Long story short, CJARS means a lot to me. Not only do I have a greater appreciation for anthropology and the social sciences, but for the Earth around me. As a social, mental, and environmental advocate, I’ve become more cognizant of making sure that my own cup is full before I go out and trying to pour what is left empty in my local communities. And no matter what door I step in, my experiences and emotions are always valid, and we each should have a say at the table. CJARS listens, CJARS cares, and CJARS loves, which is a lot more than you’d receive from your typical STEM course offered at UCSD. |
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