Going Back to School (and I'm bringing you with me)

Let's crowd source this climate anxiety thing

This past year has been an enormous gift. I’m frankly flabbergasted when I stop to think about it.

An. Entire. Year. Sabbatical. A gift of time to think, to read, to travel, to be mindfully present with dear people and places and creatures that I love.

Sabbatical is an enormous privilege, and one of the best of the medieval relics remaining in academia. While fewer and fewer schools provide them, I’m lucky enough to be at an institution that still makes them possible to tenured faculty.¹

I am not exaggerating when I tell you I cherished every darn minute of it.

When I began my sabbatical in June of 2023, I had no intention of spending the next 15 months focusing on climate anxiety. I was burned out from long years of professoring and administrating and advising and editing and reviewing and mentoring and could barely think past the sheer need to rest.

I planned on doing little more than laying in a hammock and reading tawdry romance novels. If anything, I was hoping to avoid anxious thoughts about the state of the world, not dive headlong into them.

But I was also giving serious thought to a career pivot. I love teaching—I really do—and also wondered if it was still the right place to be? I didn’t know what the next phase of my professional life was meant to be, but I knew one thing for certain: climate work needed to be at the center it.

I toyed with going back to school to become an electrician. Or a city planner. Or a professional fundraiser. Or a project manager for land conservancies.

But, as those of you who have been reading this Substack already know, I came to realize that the work I had been doing in comparative religions and comparative Indigenous studies was an essential piece of this puzzle. Because climate change isn’t just a technological challenge or a political challenge. It’s an existential challenge, that requires transforming the way we see other beings and understand our place in the world.

And I also remembered that the insane privilege I’d experienced—to study and teach this long—needed to be paid back.

One way I could do that paying back was to bring my work out of the classroom and into the world. Starting this Substack was a step in that direction.

Now I’d like to propose another: want to join me in class?

This fall, I’ve welcomed sixty students into a new course on Climate Anxiety and Spiritual Resilience at PLU. While I can’t actually invite all of you to join me (we don’t have a room big enough!) I do want to bring you along.

Sharpen Up Those Pencils

And so, dear readers, I would like to cordially invite you to join my class.

Feeling nostalgia for back to school? Dreaming of those college days? Want some justification for a little back to school thrift shopping? Or maybe to treat yourself to a really good pen? (Or, let’s be honest, a shiny new set of reading glasses?)

Let’s go to Spiritual Resilience Substack School!

Each week from now until December, I’ll post the highlights of the week: what we read, the Big Ideas we discussed, and suggestions for personal reflection and practice. And (the best part, really) I’ll share insights from my brilliant and hard working students.

We’ll walk step by step through the science of climate anxiety, and consider lessons from comparative religions and Indigenous studies for cultivating transformative, mindful, hopeful resilience.

Sound like just the thing? Then invite some friends along! (It’s a great excuse to meet up for chai or wine and have a good chat, and I promise I’ll give you some things to talk about.)

If you’re subscribed to this newsletter, you’re already enrolled in Spiritual Resilience Substatck School. You can share thoughts in the chat, ask questions in the comments, or direct-message me queries or requests. Let’s make it a conversation! Joining the class is completely free—all subscribers are welcome.

Ready to get started? Click here to go to Week One!

If this sounds like just the thing, please let me know in the comments, or hit that “heart” button below. I can’t see your gorgeous faces, so this let’s me know if I’m on track. :-)

Until next week, here’s a picture of Mumford my most-beloved, who thinks he’s a dog. And my dog Boru, who doesn’t care one way or another. They’re madly in love. And when they’re together, all is right with the world.

1. Big footnote here, as non-tenured, visiting, or adjunct faculty do not have access to the luxury of sabbaticals. Universities are increasingly relying on lower-paid “visiting” faculty, who work just as hard but for less security, poor compensation, and none of the perks. It’s an unjust system, and I’m damn lucky to have landed a tenured gig.