Editor’s Note: Laurel Kays is the Manager of the Fire Learning Network, a sister network of FAC Net. She is based in Raleigh, North Carolina and is the current President of the NC Prescribed Fire Council. In this blog, Laurel reflects on the future of fire adaptation, the hard truths and realities of our work as fire practitioners, and the ever-persistent need for hope.
A 19th century sermon by theologian Hyacinthe Loyson contends that “These trees which he plants, and under whose shade he shall never sit, he loves them for themselves, and for the sake of his children and his children’s children.” His words inspired the old adage that those who plant trees knowing they will never sit under their shade are blessed for doing so.
Like tree-planting, fire is a long-term game. Restoring landscapes and fire cultures that have been eroded by still very present settler colonialism and capitalist resource extraction does not happen overnight. This work takes funding, conducive weather, personnel, talks with neighbors, memos of understanding, insurance coverage, and so much more. Even in places where prescribed fire has been used consistently for decades, a hurricane or wind event can wreak havoc in a day. Restoring our relationship with fire and the land it burns on is not a journey with an end destination – it’s an ongoing process of adaptation to a changing world.
As fire practitioners, we do this work because, ostensibly, we believe it matters. We believe it is possible to see a world where longleaf pines, prairies, sequoias, and other fire-adapted ecosystems flourish. We believe that we can reach an equilibrium where the artificial divide between humans and nature has softened and our communities understand and support fire on the landscapes of which they are a part. We believe in a future that is better and worth working for, even if it is our descendants who ultimately see it come to pass.

Millennial humor can be a bit dark. Credit unknown.
So what happens when that future stops looking possible? The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) released their Sixth Assessment Report on August 9, 2021. The official press release grimly notes that “Many of the changes observed in the climate are unprecedented in thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of years, and some of the changes already set in motion – such as continued sea level rise – are irreversible over hundreds to thousands of years.” It seems that every other week there are news stories about another worrying research study, worsening drought, or rapidly disappearing species.

Credit unknown.
Bad news has consequences. Studies have found that climate change and the failure of governments to act has profound mental health consequences, particularly for younger people. My anecdotal data confirms that the kids (or young adults) are not alright. The week the IPCC report was released, nearly every millennial I know was sleepwalking through the days while trying to keep up at work and school and hobbies that felt hollow. We share memes and nightmares about entirely plausible scenarios in which governments have collapsed under the weight of refugee crises as sea levels rise and formerly arable lands become barren. We make jokes that also aren’t jokes about how we’ll never retire. We debate whether it’s ethical to have kids and where to look for jobs based on places that might be most habitable in twenty years.
And we, or at least I, come to work, and try to believe it still matters.
And yet despair is not an option. I love fire, and the forests and mountains and prairies I get to see as part of my work. I love the beautiful, weird world I get to live in with its Venus flytraps and morel mushrooms and indigo snakes. And I love the people in it, even if I don’t always like all of them. The idea of giving up and giving in to the immense loss and suffering we face is unthinkable.

Three colleagues on a burn in North Carolina. Photo credit: Laurel Kays
I went looking for an alternative that felt honest, a way to avoid the paralysis of despair that didn’t feel like papering sunshine and rainbows over the threats we face. I found the words of prison abolitionist Mariame Kaba that are now written on a post-it note on my desk. “Hope is a discipline. It’s less about ‘how you feel,’ and more about the practice of making a decision every day, that you’re still gonna put one foot in front of the other, that you’re still going to get up in the morning. And you’re still going to struggle…”
I found this version of hope described in other places too, most prominently in the words of women, particularly Black women, Indigenous women, and other people whose communities have been fighting battles for centuries that they knew they would almost certainly not live to see won. A practice of hope doesn’t require a gut feeling that everything will be ok. It doesn’t require me to innately be a glass half full optimist. It doesn’t require minimizing the problems we face to protect the fragile illusion that it will all just work out somehow. It is, as Kaba points out, a deliberate action, not a feeling.

A North Carolina landscape. To paraphrase Sam Gamgee from Lord of the Rings, “what we’re holding on to is that there’s some good in this world, and it’s worth fighting for.” Photo credit: Laurel Kays
I can’t make myself believe that the world will avert the worst impacts of climate change. That seems unlikely as Lake Mead dries up and heat waves kill those without the privilege of air conditioning. But I can try to learn that maybe what I believe about the future matters less than what I do about it.
So that’s what I’ll do – keep showing up each day to lace up my boots or power up my laptop. And maybe, despite the odds, things will get better after all.
****
A sincere thank you for sharing a healing perspective on how to balance the roller coaster feeling of despair with hope and a renewed purpose.
Thank you Laurel Kays for your hopeful essay, I agree totally
Oof, this was a good reminder. Great job Laurel!
Thank you for sharing Laurel! This really speaks to me as I have been questioning a lot of things this year, dwelling a little bit at times on the despair side. There are so many thing I do look forward to in working in this space. Just yesterday I spoke to a fellowship group of high school, college, and young professionals, they were attentive and asked good questions. Conversations with activated residents who are looking at the big picture, not just Firewise, can be invigorating.
For now I take it one day at a time and acknowledge that some days my best is better than others…and that’s okay.
Oddly inspirational, and not a minute too soon for those of us who crave an empathetic shoulder to cry on at times…thanks for blogging!
Thank you for a beautiful post, Laurel. I just finished listening to The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World with the Dalai Lama XIV and Archbishop Desmond Tutu, and the hope reflected there set the same tone. They also point to the importance of gratitude, and this made me reflect back directly on Robin Wall Kimmerer’s writings on gratitude and I hope to start more conversation with a version of a Thanksgiving address.
Too long for a sticky note, but here’s some additional sentiment.
“One of my practices comes from an ancient Indian teacher. He taught that when you experience some tragic situation, think about it. If there’s no way to overcome the tragedy, then there is no use worrying too much. So I practice that. (The Dalai Lama was referring to the eighth-century Buddhist master Shantideva, who wrote, “If something can be done about the situation, what need is there for dejection? And if nothing can be done about it, what use is there for being dejected?”)”
― Dalai Lama XIV, The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World
We must all do what we can.
Thanks Laurel! I needed this!
Thanks for sharing this. My time working for Conservation professionals has taught me that they are either pessimistic or idealists/dreamers that refuse to talk about limitations, irreversibility, and upcoming nightmares.
This article is practical; we do not do it because it will happen overnight. We should not stop it because we may never see it. We do it because it is our mission.
Brilliant, Laurel. Expertly written, realistically inspirational, and deeply insightful.
There is so much wisdom wrapped up in this perspective–Right Action, Right Livelihood; Walk by Faith, not by Sight; Make a Difference-One Starfish on the Beach at a Time, etc.
May your commitment to the work be part of a much-needed larger change in our world.
Beautiful, Laurel. Just what I needed, as well! Thank you!
Laurel,
Gracias because there are times when One can ask what is the point? Hope is a discipline, and we all need to show up.
Thank you!
Great article, I like the humor interspersed.
Thank you Laurel!
So much to savor from the blog and the comments. Hope. Gratitude. Love. Fearlessness. All come to mind.
Thank you for sharing, Laurel. “What is written on the sticky note on your desk?” may be the next icebreaker I use when I have the occasion. The one on my desk used to say (I have a new desk so I need a new sticky note) GSD. GSD stands for Get S**t Done. Let me explain…I don’t think I’d call it hope, but what makes me feel like our work is “worth it” is that we HAVE SOLUTIONS to the challenges we are facing. We can stop burning fossil fuels, we can accelerate the pace of forest restoration etc. We don’t do these things at the pace we need to because of, mostly, man-made barriers. As we all know, many of those barriers are far smaller than a changing climate. Like needing an agreement or mechanism to transfer funding to get some project started. So while none of us can solve climate change or restore forests TODAY, we can take some small step that will move us closer to those goals. While I’m sure we have all heard the “its all going to burn anyway” argument, I know that the folks in this network are not ready/willing to just write off entire ecosystems. So we put our heads down and continue to GSD every day.
In response to Matt’s “what’s on the sticky note on your desk?” —
Mine seems somehow related, too: “It’s not wasted if it didn’t work; it just didn’t work.” (Do we all have a sticky note?)
Thank you, Laurel
Thank you for writing this. The vulnerability and articulating something I have felt very close to me daily.
Great article, Laurel! I believe it is only through reckless optimism that we can hope to change things for the better.
I search for inspiration everyday, and ask for it as in our tradition, its around us everywhere. Thank you inspired me!
A strong sage and voice for her generation. Heed these words of my hero.
So well said, Laurel. Thank you!
Thank you Laurel for writing these much needed words and reflections. After having 2 big wildfires impacting my area (in SE Spain) in just 7 years time, and this year’s wildfire season starting badly in the larger region due to unusual drought & heat, at times one does wonder how to stay hopeful.
Sometimes all that remains is to commit to our own individual little ‘grains of sand’ (‘mi granito de arena’ as we say in Spanish), and keep moving. On that note, there is one quote from Eduardo Galeano (yes, it’s on a sticky note on my desk!)
“Utopia is on the horizon. I move two steps closer; it moves two steps further away. I walk another ten steps and the horizon runs ten steps further away. As much as I may walk, I’ll never reach it. So what’s the point of utopia? The point is this: to keep walking.”