Hope in Action: Healing Ourselves, Each Other, and the Earth Through Collective Care

Two people sit together on a mountain peak

Embracing Collective Care: Healing in Connection with Each Other and the Earth

In times of great suffering—whether personal, collective, or environmental—our natural response may be to turn inward, to shield ourselves from the chaos around us. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed and isolated, retreating into solitude in the hope that it will offer relief. But what if the healing we so deeply yearn for lies not in isolation, but in our ability to reconnect—with each other, our communities, and the Earth itself?

Joanna Macy and Molly Brown (2014), in Coming Back to Life, remind us that healing is not an individual journey. True healing emerges when we acknowledge our shared humanity and recognize that we are inseparably connected to the living world. “The Work That Reconnects steady us in a mutual belonging more real than our fears and even our hopes” (p. xxiv). We are not solitary beings drifting apart—we are part of an intricate web of life, woven through shared experiences of joy, pain, and resilience. Our healing depends on reclaiming this understanding of mutual belonging and interconnectedness, with each other and the Earth.

In a world fractured by systems of oppression, environmental destruction, and social inequities, the barriers between us can feel insurmountable. Divisions of race, class, gender, and access to resources separate us, while the Earth itself suffers under the weight of exploitation and degradation. These fractures create deep wounds, within ourselves and our communities. How, then, do we begin to mend them?

The answer lies in the practice of collective care. Healing becomes possible when we remember that our well-being is bound to the well-being of others—and to the planet we all share. Collective care is not simply about showing compassion for those around us; it’s about creating sustainable systems of support, connection, and reciprocity that allow both people and ecosystems to thrive.

Expanding the Discussion: Collective Care as a Pathway to Healing

Collective care asks us to rethink what it means to heal. In a culture that often prioritizes individualism and self-reliance, the idea that healing can be a shared experience is radical. Yet, as Robin Wall Kimmerer (2013) illustrates in Braiding Sweetgrass, the natural world teaches us that reciprocity is the foundation of all life. She writes, “Reciprocity is the way of the Earth…to give back in gratitude for what we receive” (p. 38). Just as trees and plants exchange life-giving elements in a delicate balance, we too are called to offer our gifts—our care, our attention, and our love—back to the world and each other. In doing so, we become part of a larger cycle of healing, one that honours the Earth’s capacity to nurture and sustain life.

Macy and Brown (2014) further emphasize that healing the self and healing the Earth are inseparable. The emotional, psychological, and spiritual fractures we experience are mirrored by the physical wounds inflicted upon the planet. The degradation of ecosystems, the loss of biodiversity, and the impact of climate change all reflect a deeper disconnection between humans and the Earth. But as we begin to restore our relationship with nature, we find we are healing the parts of ourselves that have been neglected or forgotten.

In her reflections on the soil, Larisa Jacobson, co-director of Soul Fire Farm, shares in All We Can Save how regenerative agriculture not only brings the land back to life, but also helps to heal the people who work the land. She explains, “Our duty as earthkeepers is to call the exiled carbon back into the land and to bring the soil life home” (Jacobson, as cited in Johnson & Wilkinson, 2020, p. 307). This act of tending to the Earth is a powerful reminder that healing is not a passive process—it is an active, reciprocal relationship that requires our participation.

Healing through collective care means acknowledging the impact of systemic inequalities, both on our communities and on the environment. It means confronting the ways in which oppression and environmental destruction are interconnected, and working to create spaces where both people and the Earth can thrive. This approach requires us to shift our focus from the individual to the collective, understanding that our well-being is inextricably linked to the health of the natural world and to the strength of our communities.

Call to Action: How Do We Begin to Heal?

So, how do we begin to heal the deep wounds we carry, both as individuals and as a collective? The first step is to recognize that healing is not something we do alone. Healing happens when we show up for one another, creating spaces where people feel seen, supported, and valued. It happens when we take care of the Earth, recognizing that our well-being is tied to the health of the planet.

We can begin by cultivating spaces of connection—whether that means forming healing circles, creating community gardens, or participating in ecological restoration projects. These are acts of collective care that ripple outward, nurturing both the individual and the collective. As Adrienne Maree Brown (2017) points out in Emergent Strategy, “Small is good, small is all” (p. 41). Even small acts of care—checking in on a neighbour, planting a tree, or supporting a local farm—can contribute to the larger process of healing.

But collective care also asks us to engage with the deeper systems that perpetuate harm. As we heal, we must also advocate for justice—for the Earth, for marginalized communities, and for future generations. Healing is not only about tending to wounds—it is about creating a world where those wounds do not have to exist in the first place.

By embracing collective care, we step into the role of healers—not just for ourselves, but for each other, and for the world we share. In doing so, we begin to mend the fractures that divide us, restoring our sense of belonging, connection, and hope.

Rooted in Nature: Healing Ourselves and the Earth

True healing begins when we reconnect with nature—a relationship that is not only vital for our well-being but essential for the Earth’s recovery as well. In Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer (2013) speaks to the sacred exchange between humans and nature, reminding us that “reciprocity is the way of the Earth…to give back in gratitude for what we receive” (p. 38). When we see nature not as a commodity but as a living relative deserving of honour, we open ourselves to a deeper kind of healing—one that encompasses emotional, spiritual, and collective dimensions.

For many, nature has been a source of refuge, offering solace in times of distress. But more than providing comfort, nature is a teacher, showing us that healing is embedded in connection. The soil beneath our feet, the trees providing shade, the air we breathe—all are part of an intricate system that sustains life. When we root ourselves in this understanding, it becomes clear that healing is not just an individual pursuit—it is a shared process. Our personal well-being is intertwined with the health of the planet; healing ourselves and healing the Earth are two sides of the same coin.

As Larisa Jacobson of Soul Fire Farm reflects in All We Can Save (Johnson & Wilkinson, 2020), regenerative farming practices are a prime example of this interconnection. By “calling the exiled carbon back into the land,” Jacobson and her community not only rejuvenate the soil but also restore hope in the people working the land (p. 307) . This practice of tending to the Earth’s needs simultaneously nurtures the emotional and cultural well-being of those who engage in the process, reaffirming that we are not separate from nature, but part of its living system.

The work done at Soul Fire Farm is a reminder that healing is reciprocal. As we care for the Earth, we heal not only the physical landscape but also the scars left by cultural disconnection and oppression. This process becomes a model for how we can reclaim our relationship with the Earth and with each other. When we view nature as a partner in healing, we create the conditions for both ecological and personal restoration.

Healing Through Reciprocal Relationships

The concept of reciprocity goes beyond simply giving back to nature—it challenges us to reflect on the relationships we maintain with the natural world. As Kimmerer (2013) observes, “When we engage with the land in a reciprocal relationship, we are not just taking, but participating in a cycle of nourishment and renewal” (p. 39). This reciprocity invites us to be active participants in the healing process, rather than passive beneficiaries of nature’s gifts.

This shift in perspective is crucial for understanding how nature-based practices, like those used in regenerative farming, can become a form of healing. Not only do these practices restore biodiversity and ecological balance, but they also restore a sense of purpose and belonging to the people who engage in them. At Soul Fire Farm, the act of regenerating soil is intertwined with the regeneration of community. As Jacobson notes, the farm’s work helps people recover from “emotional and cultural wounds” by reconnecting them to the land and to their ancestral practices (Johnson & Wilkinson, 2020, p. 307) .

This approach to healing underscores the idea that nature and humanity are deeply interwoven. We cannot heal ourselves without addressing the harm we have done to the planet. Conversely, by restoring the Earth, we create the conditions for our own healing. The physical, emotional, and spiritual benefits of reconnecting with nature are vast, offering us a pathway out of isolation and into a deeper, more collective experience of healing.

Transforming Despair into Action: Cultivating Hope for Collective Healing

The weight of despair can feel crushing at times, especially when we are confronted with the enormity of environmental destruction, systemic injustice, or personal loss. It is natural to feel overwhelmed by the scale of these challenges, to question whether our individual actions can make any difference in the face of such vast crises. Yet, as Macy and Johnstone (2022) remind us in Active Hope, despair is not a dead end—it can be a doorway to transformation. By allowing ourselves to feel the full weight of our despair, we open the possibility for deeper healing and meaningful action. “Far from being an agonizing companion, despair can be a friend and an aid in reconnecting with your heart and taking useful action” (p. iii). When we acknowledge our despair, we are no longer paralysed by it; instead, it becomes a catalyst for change.

This shift—from despair to hope—is not about turning away from pain, nor is it about bypassing the harsh realities of suffering. Rather, it involves holding space for difficult emotions and letting them fuel our desire for a better future. Charles Eisenstein (2013), in The More Beautiful World Our Hearts Know Is Possible, speaks to the transformative power of hope, challenging the narrative of helplessness that so often accompanies despair. “The story of despair tells us that our choices don’t matter, that no matter what we do, we are powerless. But hope shows us that we are co-creators of the future, capable of meaningful action” (p. 45). In this way, hope becomes an act of resistance, a refusal to accept the world as it is, and a commitment to co-create a more just, compassionate, and sustainable future.

Expanding the Discussion: Hope as a Practice of Resilience

In difficult times, hope is not a passive state of mind. It is an active, dynamic process that requires resilience, courage, and a willingness to face uncomfortable truths. When we approach hope as a practice, rather than simply an emotion, it becomes a tool we can cultivate to sustain us through adversity. Macy and Johnstone (2022) suggest that active hope is about what we do, not just what we feel—it is “something we create, by taking action to bring about what we hope for” (p. 11). This understanding of hope as an active practice reframes it as a form of empowerment, reminding us that even in the midst of despair, we retain the ability to shape the world around us.

This practice of hope is particularly vital when addressing large-scale, systemic issues such as climate change, racial injustice, or social inequity. These challenges can feel insurmountable, and the weight of them often pushes us toward despair. However, it is precisely in these moments that hope becomes most powerful—because it is through our shared hope and collective action that transformation begins. As Eisenstein (2013) notes, hope invites us to reimagine what is possible and to recognise that our individual choices, when pooled together, can lead to systemic change: “Hope shows us that we are not isolated beings acting in vain; we are participants in a larger story of regeneration” (p. 49).

Hope as Resistance: Healing Ourselves and the World

Hope, then, is not simply an antidote to despair—it is a form of resistance. It is an affirmation that despite the challenges we face, we believe in the possibility of healing. This belief is radical in a world that so often tells us that things cannot change, that the status quo is immovable. But hope insists otherwise. It insists that healing is possible, not just for ourselves but for our communities and the Earth. It is through hope that we come together, pooling our resources, our wisdom, and our care, to create the conditions for collective healing.

Lama Rod Owens (2020) speaks to this in Love and Rage, emphasizing the importance of acknowledging the full range of our emotions, including anger, grief, and despair, as part of the healing process. “Healing requires us to embrace the fullness of who we are, including the parts of us that are hurt, angry, and grieving” (p. 25). When we allow ourselves to experience these emotions, rather than pushing them away, we create space for transformation. Hope, in this context, becomes an active process of working through our pain and using it as fuel for meaningful action. It becomes a commitment to healing ourselves, each other, and the world.

In this way, hope is a practice of resilience, a tool for navigating the complexities of the human experience. It invites us to imagine a future that is different from the present, and to take steps—no matter how small—toward making that future a reality. By cultivating hope, we are not only affirming our belief in the possibility of healing, but also actively participating in the creation of that healing.

The Power of Collective Healing: Mending Ourselves and Our World

Healing is most powerful when done in community. Our wounds—whether physical, emotional, or ecological—are often a reflection of the disconnection we experience in our modern world. Disconnection from each other, from the Earth, and from the deeper parts of ourselves fractures our sense of belonging. When we come together in community, we create the conditions for healing to flourish—not only within individuals but across entire ecosystems of relationships, human and non-human alike.

As individuals, we often carry the weight of personal and collective trauma, yet it is within the context of community that these burdens can begin to lift. The very act of gathering with others—whether in shared grief, celebration, or quiet presence—becomes a potent catalyst for healing. Healing in isolation can feel like trying to mend a single piece of a broken mosaic. But when we heal within community, we begin to piece together something larger, something more resilient and whole.

Adrienne Maree Brown (2017), in Emergent Strategy, highlights how small, interconnected actions taken within community settings can lead to profound systemic change. She reminds us that “small is good, small is all” (p. 41). These small acts—checking in on a neighbour, creating safe spaces for dialogue, organizing community support—may seem insignificant on their own. But it is through these cumulative gestures of care that we create the ripple effects leading to broader transformation. By caring for one another, we learn how to care for the world. And in healing the world, we heal ourselves.

Expanding the Discussion: Community as a Healing Ecosystem

The concept of community extends far beyond simply gathering with others. True collective healing requires us to build and nurture relationships rooted in mutual care, respect, and reciprocity. As Robin Wall Kimmerer (2013) writes in Braiding Sweetgrass, “All flourishing is mutual” (p. 20). This means that our individual well-being is inherently tied to the well-being of those around us—human and non-human alike. The health of our communities is inseparable from the health of the Earth, and vice versa. When we heal within community, we are not just healing ourselves, but contributing to the restoration of the greater web of life.

This is why collective healing cannot happen in isolation from the world’s larger systems. It must be deeply intertwined with efforts to heal the Earth, dismantle oppressive structures, and foster justice. As Brown (2017) emphasizes, small acts of collective care have the power to challenge and transform oppressive systems. Whether it’s working on food sovereignty projects, engaging in mutual aid, or protecting the natural environment, collective healing work is about restoring balance—within communities and in the ecosystems that sustain us. These seemingly modest actions contribute to the greater goal of systemic healing and regeneration.

Healing the World, Healing Ourselves

In many ways, the Earth itself is our greatest teacher when it comes to collective healing. Natural ecosystems thrive through interconnectedness. Forests, for example, operate as complex networks of mutual support, where trees share nutrients through their roots, fungi, and mycelium, enabling each tree to flourish. This reciprocal relationship within nature mirrors the interconnectedness of human communities. Our capacity to heal is magnified when we recognize that, like trees in a forest, we are not alone—we are part of an intricate web of relationships, and our healing is bound to the healing of the whole.

Through collective healing, we can break down the barriers that keep us isolated from each other, and from the Earth. In doing so, we create the conditions for a more resilient and compassionate world. As we heal the world, we engage in the radical act of healing ourselves.

Cultivating Hope and Resilience: Healing Through Connection

In times of overwhelming crisis—whether it’s the devastation brought by climate change, the rise of systemic oppression, or the weight of personal grief—hope can feel elusive, even unattainable. Yet, it is in these very moments that cultivating hope becomes not just essential but a radical act of defiance. Healing, both individually and collectively, depends on our ability to nurture hope as an active practice, something we do intentionally rather than passively wait for. Joanna Macy and Chris Johnstone (2022) describe hope as a verb—an ongoing action rooted in our capacity to respond to the world’s challenges. “Active hope,” they write, “is not wishful thinking. It is not waiting to be rescued by some savior. It is waking up to the beauty of life on whose behalf we can act” (p. 15).

This idea of hope as action challenges us to engage with the world despite the pain we may carry. Resilience, then, is not the absence of suffering, but the ability to hold both hope and suffering simultaneously. It is the recognition that while we may feel the weight of despair, we are not defined by it. Robin Wall Kimmerer (2013), in Braiding Sweetgrass, speaks to this delicate balance in the context of reciprocity with nature: “In the dance of reciprocity, we both give and receive… we take only what is given, and in return, we give our gift, our care, our attention” (p. 215). This cyclical relationship between giving and receiving mirrors the essence of resilience—offering care and attention even in times of heaviness, knowing that the world, too, will offer its strength back to us.

True resilience is not a solitary journey. It is woven through the connections we cultivate—with the land, our communities, and ourselves. By engaging in practices of collective care, we strengthen not only our own capacity for resilience but also the resilience of the broader ecosystems we inhabit. Our strength is amplified in connection. As Lama Rod Owens (2020) reminds us in Love and Rage, “healing requires us to embrace the fullness of who we are, including the parts of us that are hurt, angry, and grieving” (p. 25). When we face these emotions together—within supportive relationships and communities—we create spaces where healing is not only possible but inevitable.

Expanding the Discussion: Resilience Through Relationships

Resilience, much like hope, is cultivated through relationships. We often think of resilience as an individual trait, a capacity to endure hardship and bounce back. But true resilience is collective. It is found in the strength of the relationships we nurture with each other and with the natural world. These connections act as lifelines, anchoring us when we are overwhelmed, and offering us the support needed to face challenges with grace and determination.

When we care for the Earth, for example, we are participating in a reciprocal relationship that strengthens not just the land, but ourselves. This reciprocity creates a foundation for resilience that extends far beyond personal survival; it becomes about collective thriving. As Kimmerer (2013) notes, “all flourishing is mutual” (p. 20). We flourish when we give and receive care, and this mutuality strengthens our resilience in the face of ongoing challenges.

The path to resilience is illuminated by these relationships. Whether it’s through community solidarity during times of crisis, or the quiet connection we build with the natural world, resilience emerges when we recognize that we are part of something larger than ourselves. The web of connections we belong to—whether human or ecological—nurtures us, providing the strength and support necessary to continue showing up in the world. As Owens (2020) so poignantly reminds us, healing requires a radical acceptance of all that we are, and it is in the embrace of our full selves, alongside others, that we find the deepest forms of healing.

Practical Steps for Fostering Collective Care

The healing of our communities—and by extension, our world—begins with simple, intentional acts. Collective care is not just an abstract ideal but a tangible practice that we can engage in every day, both individually and communally. It’s a way of being in the world that prioritizes connection, support, and sustainability. At its core, collective care is about building systems of mutual aid and trust that sustain us, not only in moments of crisis but through the ongoing challenges of life. It is in these practices that we find the seeds of lasting change and resilience.

One of the most impactful ways to foster collective care is by creating intentional spaces for healing and connection. These can take many forms—community healing circles, nature-based therapy groups, grassroots organizing efforts, or mutual aid networks. Joanna Macy and Molly Brown (2014), in Coming Back to Life, offer practical exercises designed to help individuals and communities reconnect with the Earth and each other. These exercises, rooted in ecological mindfulness, invite participants to tap into the strength of their interconnectedness, fostering both personal and communal resilience. By engaging in these practices, we cultivate a sense of belonging, not only with other humans but with the entire living ecosystem around us.

The power of these intentional spaces is profound. As Robin Wall Kimmerer (2013) beautifully describes in Braiding Sweetgrass, healing occurs in the dance of reciprocity—when we give and receive in balance, honouring the relationships that sustain life (p. 215). Whether it’s sharing food, wisdom, or emotional support, collective care invites us to actively participate in the web of life, contributing to the well-being of the whole. In doing so, we not only strengthen our communities but also deepen our connection to the Earth, which is foundational for healing at every level.

Community-Based Action: Regenerating Hope and the Land

In addition to creating spaces for personal and communal healing, collective care can take the form of community-based actions that address both human and environmental well-being. In All We Can Save, Johnson and Wilkinson (2020) highlight the work of individuals like Germaine Jenkins, whose efforts to rebuild community through regenerative farming offer a powerful example of collective care in action. Jenkins speaks of the challenges of “food apartheid,” yet her farm is more than just a place to grow food—it’s a hub of hope and self-sufficiency for her community (p. 309) . By teaching people how to cultivate their own food and restore the land, Jenkins is fostering not only physical sustenance but also emotional and cultural healing.

This kind of community-based action—where individuals come together to create sustainable solutions for both people and the planet—demonstrates the profound impact of collective care on human and environmental health. When we engage in regenerative practices that heal the land, we are also healing the social, emotional, and spiritual wounds that arise from systemic injustice. The restoration of ecosystems becomes inseparable from the restoration of communities, and this symbiotic relationship reinforces the idea that collective care is not a one-way street. It is a mutual, life-giving process that strengthens the bonds between us and the Earth.

Everyday Acts of Care: Small Ripples, Big Impact

Beyond large-scale projects and intentional healing spaces, collective care is also something we can practice in our everyday lives. Small, everyday actions contribute to the larger healing of our communities and the planet. Checking in on a neighbour, organizing a local cleanup, donating to food banks, or supporting movements for social and environmental justice—these seemingly minor acts create ripples of care that extend far beyond the initial gesture. As Adrienne Maree Brown (2017) emphasizes in Emergent Strategy, “small is good, small is all” (p. 41). Every small act of care matters because, when combined, they lead to broader transformation.

In this way, collective care becomes a daily practice of mindfulness and action, where each of us contributes to the larger process of healing. It’s about recognizing that we are part of something much bigger than ourselves—that our well-being is tied to the well-being of others and the world around us. By fostering these small acts of care, we not only help those in need but also create a culture of compassion and resilience that will sustain us through the inevitable challenges ahead.

Conclusion: Reaching for Collective Healing

In a world that often feels fractured and disconnected, the call to heal ourselves, each other, and the Earth has never been more urgent. The challenges we face—climate change, systemic injustice, personal grief—can feel insurmountable when faced alone. But healing is not born from isolation. It arises from the recognition that we are deeply connected to one another and to the natural world. It is in remembering this truth—our shared humanity, our collective struggle, and our intertwined joy—that we begin to cultivate a more resilient, compassionate future. Our healing is not an individual pursuit, but a collective endeavour.

As Joanna Macy and Molly Brown (2014) remind us, “We have the capacity to strengthen our courage, resolve, and connection to each other and the Earth. This is the work that reconnects” (p. xxv). In this reconnection, we reclaim our role as stewards—not only of our own well-being but of the communities and ecosystems that sustain us. The web of life is fragile, yet it is also resilient when nurtured through acts of care and reciprocity. By embracing collective healing, we honour this web and contribute to the restoration of balance in ourselves, our relationships, and our world.

This is a call—a call to action, to compassion, and to hope. It is a call to reconnect with the Earth, to extend care to those around us, and to stand in solidarity with the most vulnerable among us. It is an invitation to cultivate hope in the face of despair and to recognize that every act of care, no matter how small, ripples outward in ways we cannot always see.

Together, we have the power to heal the fractures in our world. One act of collective care at a time, we can rebuild the bonds that sustain life and create a future grounded in hope, justice, and connection. Let us answer this call with open hearts and a shared commitment to the healing of all beings—human and non-human alike.

Continue the Convo

If the ideas in this blog resonate with you, I warmly invite you to connect with me. Whether you’re a therapist seeking guidance on collective care and healing practices, or someone navigating personal challenges and looking for support, I’m here to help. You can book individual therapy sessions or peer consultations online, where we can explore these topics further and work together toward meaningful growth. And don’t forget to bookmark this blog for future insights, reflections, and updates on collective healing, environmental justice, and personal well-being.

References

Brown, A. M. (2017). Emergent strategy: Shaping change, changing worlds. AK Press.

Eisenstein, C. (2013). The more beautiful world our hearts know is possible. North Atlantic Books.

Johnson, A. E., & Wilkinson, K. K. (Eds.). (2020). All we can save: Truth, courage, and solutions for the climate crisis. One World.

Kimmerer, R. W. (2013). Braiding sweetgrass: Indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledge, and the teachings of plants. Milkweed Editions.

Macy, J., & Brown, M. (2014). Coming back to life: The updated guide to the work that reconnects. New Society Publishers.

Macy, J., & Johnstone, C. (2022). Active hope: How to face the mess we’re in with unexpected resilience and creative power (Revised ed.). New World Library.

Owens, L. R. (2020). Love and rage: The path of liberation through anger. North Atlantic Books.

Disclaimer: This blog offers general educational information and does not constitute professional advice or establish a therapist-client relationship. Please consult a healthcare provider for personalized guidance. Any decisions based on the content are the reader’s responsibility, and Clayre Sessoms Psychotherapy assumes no liability. All case studies are hypothetical with fictional names and do not reflect actual people. We prioritize your privacy and the confidentiality of all of our clients. We are committed to maintaining a safe, supportive space for 2SLGBTQIA+ community care.

Clayre Sessoms is a trans, queer, and neurodivergent Registered Psychotherapist (RP), Certified Sensorimotor Psychotherapist, and Board Certified Art Therapist (ATR-BC), offering online therapy for trans*, nonbinary, queer, and 2SLGBTQIA+ allied adults and teens across Canada. With a deep commitment to trauma-attuned gender-affirming care, Clayre integrates talk therapy, experiential collaboration, and creative expression to support clients to grow, heal, or navigate change. When not working with clients or supervising newly-licensed therapists, Clayre finds solace in nature, where she recharges her creativity and compassion.

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