climate anxiety

At Kula Yoga Studio, Climate Cafe attendees participated in a somatic movement workshop designed to alleviate stress. (Credit: Leah Shulman) They were asked to form a circle on the hardwood floor. The chatter was light, mostly small talk—no one knew each other yet. A quick look around revealed a carousel of unfamiliar faces, a tie-dyed shirt here, a sleeve of tattoos there. Some were munching on dried mango slices, while others sipped coconut water from paper cups. Candles burned on the windowsills, casting a moth-like shimmer on the yellow walls. The atmosphere was calming, which is what they needed. It’s why they were all there. The group of 16 went around the circle one-by-one, introducing themselves and sharing their intentions. This was not AA, but it was close—alphabetically, that is. It was CC—Climate Cafe. Run by a small team of dedicated volunteers, Climate Cafe organizes weekly pop-up events across New York City, providing a space for individuals facing climate anxiety to gather, share their thoughts and process their feelings collectively. The project is designed to create a sense of solidarity among individuals passionate about environmental issues, yet overwhelmed by the complex and urgent realities of climate change. This particular event, held in a yoga studio in Brooklyn's Williamsburg, doubled as a somatic movement workshop—although activities vary with each event. Some include options like film screenings, clothing swaps and even speed dating, while others offer workshops on skills like sewing and composting. But no matter the event, each one centers around climate, giving attendees time to share their feelings and support one another. Helena Yang, a volunteer, said it’s comforting to hear people share what they are feeling. “You feel less alone,” she said. “Day to day, you don’t necessarily get to talk about , but having that dedicated space where we are really focusing on it, it feels more like it’s a part of life.” The nonprofit project was established in 2022 by activist Gianna Lum and a handful of her friends, who felt their sustainability efforts stagnating in the wake of the pandemic. “A lot of organizing was online because of lockdown, and we were having a lack of purpose,” Lum said. Not to mention, climate-related job prospects were drying up in New York City. Lum, a graduate of a master’s program at Columbia University bridging climate science and policy, had expected to find work closely linked to the environment. Instead, she took a job as a tech reporter to make ends meet. “People were feeling a sense of eco anxiety, a feeling of climate grief, but at the same time they weren't sure what to do with it—they felt paralyzed,” said Lum, who today serves as chief climate officer for a startup that advocates for sustainable cryptocurrency solutions. She and her friends started meeting in the park, snacks and coffee in tow, to vent their frustrations and brainstorm ways to reconnect with their purpose. Soon, they realized they were already doing just that. “We realized that this was a common thing—activists who are burnt out, but also new people who want to join the climate movement, but just have no idea what to do. They either want to get plugged in or they're just stuck,” Lum said. “So we decided that we wanted to open up my friend Jon's living room in Brooklyn one day, serve snacks, serve coffee and offer a space for people to talk about their climate anxiety.” That was the first Climate Cafe, and since then, it has blossomed into an official organization, hosting two events per week on average, with attendance often reaching over a dozen people. While many events are free, certain ones that require more supplies or labor charge a small fee. Donations cover event costs, and local businesses provide spaces to host gatherings. For example, the somatic movement workshop was held at Kula Yoga Studio, with the owner offering up the venue at no cost. The first half of the workshop was dedicated to group discussion. While one attendee named Jasper expressed his resentment toward those in power whose policies are actively damaging the planet, another attendee named Benny shared that he felt a profound grief in his body for the land ravaged by the California wildfires. Several attendees also acknowledged a different kind of struggle: the weight of feeling nothing at all. “We’ve been talking about numbing, and about how I experience that too, and it scares me,” Benny said. “But it’s a defense. It’s protection, because when you really tap into the full weight of the fear and grief, it’s very big. Bigger than me and bigger than you.” A Climate Cafe and folk jam session held at the Brooklyn Quaker Meeting House in March. (Credit: @anqui_analog) A recent report from the IPCC, the United Nations body tasked with assessing climate science, warns that without significant cuts in greenhouse gas emissions, the planet’s surface temperature could warm by 3.2°C by 2100—a level that would be catastrophic. Even now, we are seeing extreme floods, wildfires and storms becoming more destructive, impacting food security, infrastructure and lives. It's no coincidence that the majority of Climate Cafe attendees belong to Gen Z, a generation raised with a heightened sense of impending doom. A 2024 survey found that 85% of Gen Z-ers are at least moderately worried about climate change; even more troubling, 43% reported that climate change has taken a toll on their mental health. The purpose of Climate Cafe is to give people strength to stay in the climate movement, despite the strain it inflicts on them, organizers say. “This is exactly what I've needed in times when I've had complete panic about climate change,” said Leah Shulman, another volunteer. The group discussion was followed by a somatic movement exercise led by Laureen Liang, a healing coach, who told the group to imagine a place where our planet is healthy and thriving. Lush forests. Clear, flowing waters. The hum of a city in harmony with nature. “What does it feel like in your body to witness this?” she asked. The energy in the room softened, each person soothed by the imagery. It was as if everyone had collectively recalled a dream nearly forgotten. Liang urged them to release any tension in their bodies, offering mantras to anchor their focus. “I am a powerful force for good in the world,” they echoed in unison, their footsteps quiet on the polished wooden floor. Afterwards, people lingered to chat. An attendee named Jennie said she wants to host an event like this for students. Benny, a musician, announced to the group that he would be hosting a Climate Cafe the following Saturday that would double as a sing-along. Some people exchanged numbers and discussed plans to attend future events. “If you come to one of these events and you just had a good, nice time, that, to me, is baseline success,” Shulman said. “If you made a new friend and you exchanged information, that's really cool to me.” Little by little, the room emptied out. Outside, the planet was in the same state it had been two hours before—but the people leaving the yoga studio seemed to be in a much better one. ◼️

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