Let's get flexin'

An absolute delight spending last night co-hosting an ACTionism screening with my pal Beccy and fellow Re-Action member in Walthamstow at Big Penny with the folks at Yonder. Huge thanks for having us, and to everyone who came along and braved the 40-degree sauna-UK conditions. Proper heroic energy.

It feels almost redundant to say it, but yes, it is blooming boiling in the UK right now. Discombobulatingly so. Not normal. I won’t linger there too long, but it really is front of mind what this could all spell for our future.

ACTionism, for me, is a kind of antidote to that wider climate-heavy feeling. A way of not getting swallowed whole by the scale of things. It’s about shrinking the field of care, not as retreat, but as focus. Tending to what is right in front of you. Your people. Your place. Your patch.

Not because the big stuff doesn’t matter, but because no one nervous system was designed to hold the whole planet at once.

Instead, focus on what’s right under your nose. Your family. Your crew. Your street. Your neighbours. Your patch. The work that feels good for the soul. That’s where the real power is anyway.

If there’s a future worth having, it’s being rehearsed right now in schools, gardens, community halls and street corners. Good stuff really is happening everywhere, all at once.

The Earth will be fine. She’s endured far worse than us. Humans, on the other hand… we’re the perishable ones. So perhaps the sensible move is to get a bit better at being human together.

When things get wobbly, people tend to find each other. They connect. They ACT locally on the stuff that really matters. They cook together, fix things together, plant things together, argue a bit, laugh a lot, and slowly build something resembling community again.

That’s how a ripple turns into a wave. And that feels unstoppable, because community action changes everything.

And if we are, in fact, heading to hell in a handcart… well, we might as well decorate the cart, bring snacks, have a boogie, and get to know the other passengers.

No cavalry is coming. But that’s not actually bad news. It just means it’s us. And “us” turns out to be pretty capable when we remember we belong to each other.

Last night felt like exactly that in action.

A room full of people choosing to show up. To listen. To share. To not look away. Those small acts of attention and togetherness are not small at all. They are the rehearsal space for everything else.

If there’s a future worth working for, it’s already being practised in rooms like that. In Walthamstow. In Big Penny.

Grateful to have been in it with everyone there.

There is so much good around. Some days it’s harder to spot, but it’s there. And once you start noticing it, it’s like a muscle you can’t stop using. Lets' get flexin’ crew.

Massive thanks to everyone last night who reminded me of exactly what I needed to remind myself of. What matters is that we start, and that we don't start alone.