First and foremost, before sharing my ideas on empowering people by embracing our emotions surrounding ecological grief, I need to share my own journey from trauma to transcendence. Whether it was their intention or not, my parents instilled in me a profound appreciation and respect, wonder and reverence for the natural world. This deep sense of responsibility as a steward to the earth has been a guiding light throughout my life in pursuing educational opportunities, professional paths, and ultimately how I walk on the Earth. Simultaneously, this assured sense of purpose has contributed to deep depressive states, bouts of hopelessness, and disempowerment. Only, with hindsight can I pinpoint my fifteen-year struggle with alcoholism as a coping mechanism for the overwhelming ecological grief I was experiencing. As a child, I frequently accompanied my father to various public forums where the United States Forest Service (USFS) solicited comments pertaining to proposed projects, accompanied natural resource scientists as they conducted field investigations, and community environmental group meetings as they developed strategies to address local ecological issues. I witnessed arguments that pitted jobs against grizzly bear habitat, community growth against wilderness values, and immediate livelihood against long-term water quality. I witnessed the power of multi-million-dollar corporations to bulldoze public perceptions and massage government representative fealty. A by-product of all this exposure at a young age was that my own perspective was invariably larger than the small rural mountain community in Montana, it became global. Equally, of paramount I honed in on ecological issues; I looked for them and wanted to understand them. I read about the plight of African Elephants due to the ivory trade in National Geographic, the threats to the Spotted Owl in old growth forests of Oregon and Washington in the Spokesman Review, and environmental hazards from the burning oil wells in Kuwait in Newsweek magazine. Each of these incidents seeded a growing sense of foreboding, an ominous cloud began to materialize on the horizon. It wasn’t until I was in high school that I determined to be an environmental scientist. A field trip with a group of geologists drilling monitoring wells to ascertain groundwater flow was immensely exciting and engaging to my curious mind. It was the ultimate detective novel, a great mystery waiting to be unraveled, flowing in the ground beneath my feet. This moment filled me with immense hope and possibility that the field of science would guide sound management decisions on the lands I loved so much and was a way I could be of service. The naïve exuberance of youth fueled my educational endeavors but was unable to temper the slide into hopelessness. Years spent in the University system invariably exposed me to many of the daunting complexities and failures in public land management. Yes, there was NEPA to guide project land management but local politicians were very vocal at disparaging government officials that didn’t draft proposals that supported timber production and receipts to local schools. Yes, there was CERCLA that directed public land management of hazardous waste sites but Congress didn’t allocate sufficient funds to the Superfund for remediation. The first climate summit was in 1979 but the first climate assessment wasn’t until 1991. Slowly, over the eight years of my education, like water weathering rock all this knowledge built a massive cumulus column of doom in my mind. Unfortunately, I suffer from a predilection for knowledge an insatiable appetite to know more, as if knowing more will somehow make everything be more easily controlled or solved. Alas, more knowledge of ecological issues only compounded my anxiety and left me feeling even more despondent about the future. I literally developed a deep profound hatred for humanity, a hatred that manifested in self-hatred and destructive behaviors. At first drinking was a way to assuage my feelings of fear, anger, grief, hopelessness, and helplessness, a means to bring levity to the whole fucked up shit show known as life and being human. The shallow vainer of alcohol only lubricated the depressive slope I was on, subsequently cartwheeling me into even darker depths. My mind fed on a steady diet of hopelessness, fumed at the rampant materialism of capitalism around me, castigated those closest to me for focusing on the simple pleasures of life, mocked and chastised all social groups except the most militant environmental advocates. I was unapologetic cynic and apathetic to the core. My reliance on alcohol was even more destitute as it was a means for momentarily silencing the oppressive, berating, vindictive voice within. Only, now six years sober do I recognize the caustic effects of unprocessed ecological grief. Literally, the first three years of sobriety were spent allowing myself to experience all the unprocessed grief, hours curled in a ball on a hard-wooden floor overcome by sadness. I recall driving home from work, beautiful blue sky and sunshine filling the Kootenai River valley and I’m totally overcome with sadness; tears streaming down my face, big red puffy eyes, heaving, unable to breathe. Sometimes, if I was totally present in the moment, I would recognize the origin of the grief but more often than not it was simply tears, free flowing tears. Despite allowing myself the space and time to be with my grief I still possessed lots of anger and judgement towards myself and humanity in regards to the ecological crisis of the Anthropocene. I occasionally found myself in silent diatribes lambasting a political figure or acquaintance about the dire situation of the Earth. Then recognizing the futility and ridiculousness of my silent soapbox I would turn the sharp lens inward, focusing on my own inability to change. Meditation, a consistent daily meditation practice has enabled me to gradually recognize these destructive habits and simply bear witness to their arising rather than getting caught in the web. Equally, important in my healing journey has been the practice of forgiveness and loving-kindness. I regularly practice forgiveness, forgiving myself for the harm I have committed towards the Earth, the next generations, and specifically my niece and nephew. I ask forgiveness of the Earth and all beings of the Earth. Forgiveness is the humbling act of acknowledging my humanity as well as the 10,000 joys and 10,000 sufferings of this human experience. Loving-kindness is the practice that gives me hope, instills in me the infinite possibilities that lay beyond the capacity of knowledge and the human mind. Loving-kindness helps me to recognize interconnectedness of all life and the beauty of living in this moment with a heart full of love. My journey from trauma to transcendence with ecological grief is still unfolding. Somedays I still experience overwhelm, hopelessness, and helplessness but now I have the capacity to be with these emotions to hold them gently with a kind, loving, and compassionate heart. Somedays I’m overwhelmed with the immense gift that the ecological crisis has placed before humanity; the incredible opportunity to consciously choose to awaken and consciously choose to live in harmony with the Earth. WOW, what an amazing opportunity we have to completely reimagine our relationship with self, others, and all of life. Somedays I simply marvel at the blessing it is to have life in the human form and experience the Earth, the magic of this planet and all the amazing iterations it has experienced in my short lifetime.