'Hope isn't what we have, it's what we do,' says climate activist

At 79, Mary Anne Pare prefers to think of retirement as “re-firement.”

Tell us about your work?   

For most of my professional life, I worked as a child and family therapist, retiring at 77. These days, I spend a lot of time in my off-the-grid home and garden, which I’ve designed to be as sustainable as possible. I’m very active in climate and reconciliation work on S,DÁ,YES/(Pender) Island in the Salish Sea. As part of Pender Earth, we run monthly climate cafés and community conversations with invited speakers.  I’m also a member of POD (Pender Ocean Defenders) which is in its tenth year.  We have huge plywood orcas, as well as salmon and herring, that we use to promote defending the ocean. I also delivered equipment and food and helped rebuild camps destroyed by the RCMP during the occupation at Fairy Creek.

I find great joy in making films about reconciliation and climate action.  I’m part of a group collaborating with original W̱SÁNEĆ inhabitants of S,DÁ,YES to  reconnect them to their homelands.  We do SENĆOŦEN language training, invasive plant removal, and ran three-week intensive ṮEṮÁĆES (Relatives of the Deep) workshops, weaving together Indigenous knowledge with climate science.  

How did you get into this work? 

My consciousness was formed around social, political and environmental issues. I grew up in Quebec, second oldest in a family of nine. This instilled a sense of responsibility and awareness of the needs of others which shaped my career choices. Looking back now, I see my parents as “radical Catholics.” They were involved in caring for the homeless. They had a close friendship with the American Jesuit priest and poet Father Daniel Berrigan, who was imprisoned numerous times for his anti-war and anti-nuclear activities.

I came of age in the midst of social protests and the natural-food, back-to-the-land, and women’s movements.  These combined with my subsequent awareness of the devastating consequences of colonialism to influence my thinking and, later in life, my transition from retirement to “refirement.” 

The social climate of the 60’s and  70’s inspired me to live rurally, sustainably, and to put down deep roots in the community.  As a child and family therapist, I recognized the necessity to address the needs of all family members and developed a model of talking and playing with families which I’ve taught internationally. Becoming aware of the dark side of Canadian history led me to co-produce SEARCHING FOR SȽEW̱ÁȽ NOṈET*(peace of mind at last*), about Indigenous and settler descendants who are grappling with reconciliation and climate action and finding new ways to be in relationship with one another and with the land. 

What makes your work hard?

I face the same challenges we all deal with, especially the fear that we won’t respond adequately to the existential crisis of our time.  I think people go numb and choose — consciously or subconsciously — to disengage, distract, deny, dissociate and compartmentalize, rather than face our reality. We’re called to be courageous, to be prepared, to be inconvenienced, to let go of some of our everyday privileges and work together to find solutions.

What gives you hope?

Though climate issues are overwhelming, being engaged and creative are my best antidotes. I’m a storyteller and I believe in the power of stories to reshape the narratives we live by.  My years of witnessing children’s play inspired my own creativity. I write and perform spoken-word poetry and skits, do creative art, and have run a storytelling retreat for women for 25 years.

Hope isn't what we have, it's what we do. Being a support to future generations motivates me. The science is dire, but I hold onto the spiritual part of the planetary crisis, the mystery of it all. The company of loved ones and being in nature are my biggest solace. I’ve witnessed our innate capacity to heal, especially in Indigenous people. Knowing we can access this capacity in ourselves comforts me. A good day is one with community engagement, shared food and fun, and especially laughter.  

What keeps you up at night? 

I often get a sense of dread just as I fall asleep when the veil is thinnest, and my defences are least effective. I have had a fulfilling life, so I think more about the chaos ahead and my grandchildren, young people, in general, and future generations.

What would you say to younger readers?

My generation made choices that ignored the consequences to the natural world. Don’t repeat our mistakes. We have an utterly beautiful Mother which is our planet. Take care of her.  

What would you say to older readers? 

Engage with the people around you about the impact of the climate crisis on their lives. Creative expression has the power to bring wellbeing and change when times are hard. We can learn from young people and they can learn from us as we face our challenges.   

This profile was developed in collaboration with the Elders Circle at Vancouver’s Society Promoting Environmental Conservation