Kazu Haga: Building “Beloved Community” and becoming healers of collective trauma (Ep451)

Written By kamea chayne
“We often see injustice only as a political issue; we only think so far as to how we ‘fix’ the issue. Yet reconciling conflict is about repairing relationships.”
— Kazu Haga

How does sensing into our zones of stretch, comfort, and panic help us to expand our capacities for love and nonviolence — in their more radical iterations? Where might accountability come from in a world that seems to reward behaviors that are extractive, exploitative, and narcissistic?

Our latest conversation features Kazu Haga, the author of Fierce Vulnerability, who invites us to shift the ways that we understand “power” and to center relational healing when addressing injustice.

What does it mean for us to step into the role of becoming healers of collective trauma?

We invite you to…

 

About our guest:

Kazu Haga is a trainer and practitioner of nonviolence and restorative justice, a core member of the Fierce Vulnerability Network, a founding member of the Ahimsa Collective, a Jam facilitator and author of Healing Resistance as well as the upcoming book, Fierce Vulnerability: Healing from Trauma, Emerging through Collapse.

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interview transcript

Note: Our transcripts are minimally edited for brevity and clarity as references only and do not have word-for-word accuracy. Please view them as open invitations to dive deeper into each resource and topic explored.

Kazu Haga: I was born in Tokyo, Japan. And when I was born, my mom was a New Age, hippie, spiritual person. I was annoyed by it when I was a kid. But I think that planted a seed in me because she was always talking about the need for forgiveness, and she had a lot of relationships with Indigenous Elders across North America, whom I learnt a lot from at a young age. I think that was the seed. But when I got older, in my early teenage years, my house was one filled with a lot of conflict, violence, yelling, and abuse. And so, it was not a nonviolent home. 

When I was 17 years old, I heard about the Interfaith Pilgrimage of the Middle Passage, which was initiated by a Japanese Buddhist Order. They were going to walk from Massachusetts down the coast of New Orleans, and then walk down the coast of some parts of Africa to retrace the slave route and to begin the process of healing from that lineage. I had dropped out of high school after hearing about it.

I wasn't doing anything productive in my life, and it sounded interesting to me. So I told my mom I would check it out just for a week. I essentially left home for a year and a half, and ended up going to New Orleans with the pilgrimage, then spending a year living overseas in the monasteries of these Buddhists. And so that was my introduction, diving headfirst into nonviolence and social change work.

Kaméa Chayne: Wow, that sounds like a powerful experience. And very foundational to your work, I'm sure.

Something that you say that spoke to me, but that I have a lot more questions about, is your quote, “Too many movements move through the world with a ‘shut it down' spirit that I'm afraid is not what the world needs. I believe that social justice is a manifestation of collective trauma, and you can't shut down injustice any more than you can shut down trauma.”

So, how would you like to elaborate on this sentiment?

Kazu Haga: I work a lot with incarcerated people, and one of the incarcerated trainers that I've been working with for the last 10 years once told me something that stuck with me.

Resolving a conflict is about fixing issues, and reconciling a conflict is about repairing relationships. 

Oftentimes, we see injustice only as a political issue. We only think so far as to how we “fix” the issue. What is the policy that needs to be changed? What is the law that we need to pass? We don't think about the harm that human beings experience from injustice. 

Part of the theory that we've been playing around with in Fierce Vulnerability is this idea that injustice is not a political issue. It is a manifestation of our collective trauma. And as anyone who works with trauma knows, you can't go to a traumatized person and point your fingers and say, “You're a bad person, you're doing a bad thing, you need to stop.” If our intention is healing, that's never going to be effective in helping someone move through their trauma. 

If we can understand injustice as a collective manifestation of our trauma, then maybe we can begin to understand that many of our activist movements move with this, “we're here to shut things down” energy because “you're wrong”, and “we’re here to defeat you.” And that might be effective in fixing issues, passing legislation, and changing policy. That's a critical component to social change. That's often what needs to happen first.

But at the end of the day, if we're not working on repairing and strengthening the relationships that were harmed throughout the process and addressing the collective trauma that gave birth to that injustice, then that pain, underlying trauma, or resentment lingers. And then at some point, we're going to be dealing with a new conflict, a new injustice, a new form of violence. We're always going to be spinning our wheels.

I'm inviting us to imagine social justice movements that see our work as being healers for collective trauma.

Kaméa Chayne: I really resonate with your invitation for us to go deeper and look at a lot of the things that might not feel as tangible or visceral, but that undergird a lot of the more visible changes that we're hoping to see, and learning to embody those changes as well. Maybe it helps us to look at the different zones that you talk about. 

Given the state of the world right now, through so many different lenses and issues, I feel like people are feeling increasingly panicked, stressed, and overwhelmed as to how we can address all of these different entangled issues and injustices. 

I want to welcome you to introduce these “zones of comfort, stretch, and panic” that you talk about. What do these zones look like in practice, and how do they affect the ways that our brains might receive, perceive, or lead us to react or respond to conflict and crises?

Kazu Haga: Yeah, definitely. The zones are something that was designed by an educator named Karl Rohnke. And he says that, for most of our days, most of us spend time in what he calls our “comfort zone,” which is when we're, by definition, “comfortable,” when our breathing is regulated, and when we're able to connect deeply with other people. 

That's a good place to be, but it's not where growth happens as human beings. We grow, we heal, and we learn in what he calls the “stretch zone,” which is, by definition, a little uncomfortable. If you go to the gym, you're working out and you're not at least a little uncomfortable, you're not gonna get stronger. And so the “stretch zone” is when we're being challenged with new perspectives or trying to learn new things. 

But the key to being in the stretch zone is that we're still able to take in information. We're still able to consider different perspectives, have empathy for the other side. But if we push ourselves too hard, we go into what's called the "panic zone.” The panic zone is when our emotions are completely dysregulated at the brain chemistry level, the amygdala takes over and shuts down the prefrontal cortex that can think about nuance, that can have creativity and vision, that can connect with different perspectives, that part of our brain literally from a neurological level gets shut down.

Everything, then, becomes binary—our body goes into a fight or flight state. We are living in a time of the erosion of democratic processes, climate catastrophes, and pandemics. There are so many triggers for our panic and our trauma. The world itself is in panic. And so it makes sense that so many of us, as individuals, communities, families, and nation states, are also in panic. 

But if we respond to that panic from a place of panic, then we're only adding more panic to the world. And that is not a place that is conducive to healing. So what we're trying to encourage, particularly people in social movements, to think about is, what are the practices that we need to do for ourselves so that we can stay grounded and connected to our highest selves? 

When we’re in panic, we’re responding from a place of trauma. Our capacity to practice nonviolence, to think about the complexity of the world, to have long-term visioning, goes out the window. 

The invitation is for us to learn to be more comfortable in the stretch zone.

Kaméa Chayne: There's already so much that you shared here. I guess maybe a more relatable experience for me is having the sense that, for example, the comments section on social media, I don't find as a fruitful places for people to hold conversations, because it's a lot of people attacking and judging each other.

I sense that when people already feel attacked, they're not going to be open to shifting. Maybe they've already put up a wall to defend themselves. So I'm sure there are a lot of real-life examples that people might feel like they can relate to on this front. 

Another question that I have, and I'm guessing the answer is yes, but because everybody is unique, would different bodies have different preconditions in terms of our thresholds and what our spectrum of comfort, stretch, and panic looks like?

Kazu Haga: Absolutely. There are a lot of factors that go into that. And a lot of it has to do with systemic forms of violence. The more someone has unresolved trauma, the less likely they are to be in their stress zone. A lot of people go from comfort straight into panic. And that has to do with the fact that a lot of us have not had opportunities to process and integrate and heal from our traumas. So our capacity to be in stretch is very thin. 

Oftentimes, it's because of systemic forms of injustice and violence that people don't have access to those healing modalities. When I first started entering my journey into healing, I had a decent amount of capacity to be in the stretch zone. But when it came to talking about a particular childhood traumatic incident, I had zero capacity to be in the stretch zone.

A person may have a lot of capacity to be in the stretch zone, but when it comes to talking about a particular issue, there's very little capacity. If you zoom out into the fractal and look at a nation state like the United States of America, they are very comfortable going to war. Being in that kind of physical confrontation could put a lot of people into panic. Yet collectively, when we have conversations about things like racial reconciliation, then as a country, we tend to go into panic. 

There are a lot of ways in which something that can put me into panic might be a comfortable thing for you. So there are a lot of factors that these three zones manifest for every individual.

Kaméa Chayne: I appreciate how you connect the dots between trauma at a personal level to more community levels, and to more societal and systemic levels. And maybe a helpful analogy here is thinking about how, if I have a strained muscle, then I might be sitting and I'd be perfectly comfortable. But as soon as I stand up, I already feel that pain shooting through my body. So there's less of an in-between there.

Something that you acknowledged, that I felt a bit of resistance towards and questions about, but that I know I need to further unpack, is this word “nonviolence” in the context of how we might meet and respond to conflict and crises.

I think you're getting at these nuances that we need to look at. You’re adding nuance to things that we might jump to conclusions with, for example, this possible pushback where people might say, if the existing system is violent, if a community is under violent military occupation or genocide, then we can't critique the people's means of trying to get free, even if that entails armed struggle. And maybe this also calls on us to look at what we even mean by violence or nonviolence.

But where would you like to begin unpacking this big conversation about nonviolence and the different ways that people might resist or land on this word?

Kazu Haga: I love this conversation. We could talk about this for a long time. I've always said that the role of an advocate for nonviolence is never to place judgment on the ways that people choose to fight for their freedom. 

One of the things that I've been talking about a lot and wrote in my first book is that violence can keep you alive. It can save your life, it can protect the lives of your entire community. It can be very effective in doing that. There is great value in that.

But one thing that violence can never do is strengthen or heal relationships.

To me, nonviolence is not about casting judgment on those who choose to pick up arms and use violence as a way to survive. 

Some of the movements that I've been most inspired by in my entire life are the Zapatistas and the Black Panther Party. All these movements have picked up arms to fight for liberation. But it's important to remember that as advocates for nonviolence, our ultimate goal is reconciliation. Our ultimate goal is this idea of beloved community, where all people can fulfil their potential as human beings. And we acknowledge the deep interdependence between all people.

That means you and me and everyone on the so-called “other side” of the political aisle. If we want to get to a place where all people can achieve justice, then at some point we need to do the work of healing relationships. And that's the one piece of work that I feel like violence can never do. So it's not about saying violence is wrong.

But to me, if our goal is to build a nonviolent future, then it acknowledges that certain pieces of work need to happen, that violence is not capable of giving us.

Kaméa Chayne: There’s so much here. And I want to bring in this quote that you shared: “As the intensity level of violence escalates, our response escalates with it. And as we escalate the tactics we use, we also escalate this binary of ‘us versus them.’ And this is at the heart of what is destroying the planet, that our liberation is not bound with the liberation of all life.”

I think this parallels the acknowledgement that, very often, the people inflicting harm on others have trauma of their own that they need to heal. And it is unfortunately being misdirected and expressed in these harmful ways. So it goes with this saying that hurt people hurt people, but at a systemic and mass scale. 

I do think it can be very difficult for people, especially who have been on the side of being oppressed or having been stolen from, or taken advantage of, to reach this capacity to be able to say, “I have love and I love those who are inflicting this pain onto me and my loved ones.” 

So you mentioned beloved community, but I'm curious, what is your invitation here in terms of building this beloved community and expanding even how we look at accountability?

Kazu Haga: Absolutely. There are a couple of thoughts I have on that. One is that when we talk about love, it's important to remember that there are many different kinds of love. Like when Dr. Martin Luther King Jr and all these other people advocated for quote unquote, “loving our enemy,” he wasn't saying that we need to get to a place where we have the same kind of love for our friends and family that we do for our opponents. It's really about acknowledging that, no matter how much harm somebody does, they are a human being and thereby they have inherent dignity. That all life is sacred. And that the liberation of all people is bound with the liberation of the mind. That's what it means to have what Dr. King would call “agape love.”

In the Buddhist tradition, we talk about Metta, which is this universal goodwill for all people, because we know that, deep down, we are all interdependent with each other.

One of my friends, Sierra, used to always say that the beloved community is a really big place, and someone could be on the other side of the beloved community. I don't have to have them over for family dinner, but I have to acknowledge their dignity and their sanctity as a human being. 

I think it's important to remember that we're not saying we need to have the same kinds of compassion and love for all people. One of my favourite quotes, which no one knows where it comes from, is one of those pieces of wisdom that says, “Hating someone is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.”

When we hold onto hatred and resentment for another person, it damages us more than it damages the person that we're holding onto hatred for. 

The work is to try to live into this idea that universal interdependence is for our own liberation as much as it is for anyone else's liberation. I want to get out of the delusion of separation and individualism for myself, so that I can be healthier and I can be lighter as I move through the world. It’s not just that we need to do these things because it'd be nice for the person who is committing violent acts, but for ourselves to heal as well.

Kaméa Chayne: It sounds like this is an invitation to go beyond the carceral logic of “this group is good” or “that group is bad,” which is how the criminal justice system often works. It’s like, this person did this thing, we have to lock them up because that thing was bad, rather than seeing this as a whole human being who possibly and likely has been hurt in some ways, and is being pushed to the brink to act out in a certain way. Yes, that perpetuates harm, but let’s dig a little deeper and honor everybody as human beings. So, how do we not replicate that sort of a dynamic?

Kazu Haga: And to be clear, none of this is saying that there isn't space for individual accountability for people who cause harm. Because, in all the work that I've done in my life, and particularly working with incarcerated people who have committed a lot of harm, I have seen that genuine accountability is a critical component of their healing. 

I think if we have compassion for all people, if we acknowledge that my liberation is bound with the liberation of all people, then I want the people who commit acts of violence to go through a process of accountability because that's important for their healing.

If accountability is important for someone’s healing journey, then at its best, accountability is an act of love.

We’re actually providing space for people to go through a healing process by being able to hold themselves accountable for the harm that they caused.

Kaméa Chayne: Thank you for this important reminder. The topic of accountability, I think, is one that I still have a lot of questions about. I wrote an essay on Substack on systemic narcissism and how our socioeconomic political systems seem to reward narcissism and lack of empathy, and how the systems themselves, as well as corporate interests and nation state interests, oftentimes also embody narcissism at larger scales. 

I think I've just had trouble seeing where accountability can come from when the system does the opposite and rewards those kinds of qualities and traits. It feels like we are presently, in a lot of ways, still caught up in this vicious cycle of harm that is continuing to spiral. 

So I'm not sure how to approach thinking about accountability at levels beyond the interpersonal level. I'm curious what you've thought through on this front or what questions you might still have on it.

Kazu Haga: It's a timely question given the current administration in the United States and the narcissism that is just emanating from that. In nonviolence, we're taught that only equals can negotiate. If there's a power imbalance, then one of the roles for nonviolent direct action is that we use direct action and protest to leverage more power so that we can have dialogue as equals. 

And so, I think there's a really important role when we talk about systemic forms of violence that direct action has to play in harnessing the power necessary to get to the table and to be able to have genuine conversations about accountability. And there are a lot of examples of what that looks like in practice. 

I'm a firm believer in reparations as a form of systemic accountability. One of the most beautiful kinds of acts of healing that I've ever seen on a collective level is, I didn't get to witness this particular thing happen in person, but I got to spend a little bit of time at Standing Rock when that campaign was going on. And there, a group of U.S. military veterans got on their knees and apologized to the Indigenous people for the harm that the military has been causing Indigenous people for centuries. 

And it wasn't just an apology that they made, but they actually came and put their bodies on the line to try to protect the sacred lands at Standing Rock. I think that is another form of collective accountability. And so, if we look around, there are a lot of beautiful examples of collective accountability that can take place. I do believe that the power of nonviolent direct action has to play a critical role in making sure that we have the power to actually bring these issues to the table.

Kaméa Chayne: As you mentioned earlier, the people who may have committed acts of violence towards other people in that process of accountability, it brings them healing as well. Maybe we can systemically look at this, in that when, politically, a nation state can provide something like reparations, then even though it is a relinquishing of power in a sense, that relinquishing of power is meant to also be healing for the people who are giving up that power. 

Maybe it's tiring to be holding onto so much weight and power all the time.

Kazu Haga: I think it is. I think it's “not giving up power” in the most genuine sense of power because one of my teachers always talks about how we've outsourced power and made it an external thing. Power comes from having money and having positions and having fame and all these things, but genuine power is an internal thing. 

And I think there is a way in which people who have relied on external factors for power have become deluded, and they're living in a delusion. I look at someone like Donald Trump. You can make the argument that he is among the most powerful people in the world right now. There would be truth in that argument. But at the same time, when I think about who he is and how he's living his life, I think, is he powerful? 

I believe real power is an inner resource. It’s about how deeply connected we are to our sense of humanity and how much we know that we belong in this interwoven web of life.

If I'm deeply connected to my sense of value, then I feel powerful enough to never feel like I have to take away someone else's power. 

So, if we understand power in its truest essence, you could make the argument that Donald Trump is not powerful at all. He's acting from a place of powerlessness. And therefore, he's trying to grasp onto all these delusions of power to fill this gaping hole in his heart. I think when we talk about power, we need to be clear about what we’re talking about. 

When we talk about things like reparations, I think we're asking some people to give up some financial resources. But I do think the things that they gain as a result of that, the repairing of relationships and reentering back into the web of humanity, can, in a sense, give them access to more genuine power.

Kaméa Chayne: Thank you for this reframing of power. I appreciate all the reframes or invitations to nuance different common words that often get thrown around. 

I resonate with your invitation to look at power differently, and differentiating between power over, which is dominating and oppressive, versus the power that we hold. I feel like some people might push back and be like, this is all well and good, but given our current political system, with Trump as the president, he is in a position, as defined by our current legal and political system that we exist within, to make all these decisions. And with a signature, he can affect so many people's material lives. 

So, how do we bridge this gap between the internal and embodied felt power with the more material realities that we might experience?

Kazu Haga: A lot of what I was trying to get across in the book is the importance of the “yes/and.” And of the 200 percent truths, and the 300 percent truths, and the 500 percent truths. We live in an incredibly complex world where two truths that seem completely contradictory can both be 100 percent true. 

I really, genuinely, do believe that Donald Trump is acting from a place of powerlessness. When I look at what is motivating him, I think it is his fear and his lack of true, genuine inner resource. And it's also true that he has a ton of material power, the ability to achieve purpose. 

A lot of the work of Fierce Vulnerability is about harnessing enough power so that we can respond to the injustices that are coming down from his administration. I think that, at the end of the day, Fierce Vulnerability is about how we heal. And one of the things that I kept having to say over and over in the book is that I have this fear that people are gonna read this book and say, “If I work on my trauma healing, then that's enough. That will create a peaceful world.” And I don't think that's the case. 

I want to be part of a movement that centers our healing, not so that we can be healed, because I think in an interdependent world, individual liberation is a delusion. There's no such thing.

I want to be part of a movement that centers healing so that it is grounded enough to be able to harness the power necessary to stop injustice.

While also remembering the love that is necessary to heal injustice. So yeah, there's a lot of power that we're going to need to mobilize to stop so much of the violence that is happening in our world today.

Kaméa Chayne: I feel like the thread of narcissism is still shining through for me when you talk about someone like Trump actually acting from a place of powerlessness. I think a lot of those with traits of narcissism, the core of it is having a low sense of self-esteem or a feeling [of being] empty on the inside. And then that gets expressed as having a lack of empathy. 

I like how you shift between looking at the personal to the systemic. I'm also curious about how this entire system of trying to control, quote unquote “natural resources,” and monetize everything, and commodify everything to control it, perhaps also comes from fear. Because we can't control so many aspects of how our planet is so beautifully complex and immense. At the end of the day, we’re just a tiny little blip out of everything. 

Even this entire socio-economic political system is a manifestation of some cultures’ lack of self-esteem in a more systemic way, so that they've created these systems that attempt to control what can't be controlled. I’m curious if anything else comes up for you here.

Kazu Haga: For sure. And that desire to control natural resources and monetize it comes from the scarcity mindset of “not enough.” If I don't have all of these resources, then I won't be taken care of. And I think it also comes from a lack of relationship and genuine community. 

I don't think my child's future is going to be secured by having a huge retirement fund. I think the best way to secure my child's future is to have a deep, deep community so that no matter what happens to our world, what happens to me, I know that my child has relationships with people who will take care of them. 

The more we can double down in community, the less people might feel a need to find security through financial wealth and hoarding of natural resources.

And I think a lot of people don't have that. We live in such an isolating society that people don't have the trust that they will be taken care of by the community. And therefore, again, there's this gaping hole in their heart of, “I don't have community. So if something happens, I need to be able to take care of myself. I need to have a huge bank account.” And that leads to all of this grasping. 

Kaméa Chayne: I know people often talk about the tragedy of the commons. And I feel like that also comes from the scarcity mindset. And the tragedy is the loss of community, because if you have strong relationships within a community where people are coming from a place of mutual care, reciprocity, and love, then people are going to collectively take very good care of whatever is being shared around to a point where, ideally it reaches a point where it's even more regenerative than what can create scarcity in particular social contexts. 

I want to circle back to the different zones that we were talking about earlier in terms of offering some invitations for our listeners. You say that we live in a world of panic, and our ability to practice nonviolence is hijacked. I'm curious, because I know this can look different for everybody, but how would you invite people to start in terms of stretching our stretch zones? Where could that begin for people?

Kazu Haga: Like you said, it's going to be different for every person. I feel like a lot of my life has been trying to bridge the gap between people who are involved in the streets and engaged in nonviolent action, protests, and demonstrations, with people who are in spiritual communities and people who are doing healing work and self-growth work and things like that. Because I think both are so necessary if we are to bring healing to the world.

And so I think, if you feel like going out into the streets and joining demonstrations and things like that is a stretch for you, that's where I want people to stretch into. And at the same time, if you feel like slowing down is a stretch for you, and perhaps doing some work at looking at your shadows and healing some relationships in your community and your family is a stretch for you, that's what I would invite people into.

Our commitment to healing and spiritual practice, paired with the courage to get into the streets and say “no” to injustice, is so desperately needed in the world.

And we need both to be happening in a deep relationship with one another. So wherever you feel that stretch, lean into that stretch. There are a lot of amazing resources that are trying to bridge that gap, too. So look for those resources, and whatever you don't want to do, go do that.

Kaméa Chayne: So, it's like an invitation to find the alignment between what we feel like the world is asking of us in our particular communities and context, and also tuning within to seeing where we're currently at and what might feel a little uncomfortable for us that we could try to inch towards. 

And as we come to a close for our main conversation, I want to invite you to share anything else lingering on your mind that I didn't get to ask you about, or any other exciting upcoming projects that you'd like to share.

Kazu Haga: I feel like it's really difficult to talk about any of these issues at this time without continuing to come back to the current administration. So just a couple of thoughts that I want to share on that is, one, there are a lot of people who voted for this guy, which is scary. And a lot of people say they're inspired by him. 

But I think one way to think about it, and I've been playing around with a lot, is that to me, as someone who's worked a lot with trauma, it's very obvious that Donald Trump is a deeply, deeply traumatized person. And that's where he's operating from. He's not operating from an ideology. He's operating from his fear. And there's a way in which his trauma so obviously reflects the trauma of, particularly, white male America.

So all of these people, particularly white men around the country who are so-called inspired by him, I wonder if it's inspiration or some weird sense of trauma bonding, where they see someone from a very public place operating from his trauma. And they're like, “I don't know what that is, but I so deeply resonate with that. That is me.” They're feeling some sort of connection with that. I think these kinds of perspectives can help us ground ourselves in this lens of trauma, to understand the world. 

Me doing whatever work that I need to do to be able to go into movement spaces that have the power to stop this administration while holding sanctity as a human being. I am under no delusion that Donald Trump will ever be impacted by my compassion towards him. I think a misnomer about nonviolence is that if we just have enough compassion for people like Donald Trump, he'll magically change. I don't think that's ever going to be the case. 

I think my compassion towards him will never change him. But it does change me.

The work that I’m doing to try to cultivate understanding for even my worst enemies changes my DNA.

It reminds me that the very structure of this universe is interdependent. And that does mean something. That does have an impact on my own life and the life of our movements. And so again, this isn't just about doing a “nice thing” for Donald Trump because it's a nice thing for him, but about us reminding ourselves of this deep truth: our interdependence.

Kaméa Chayne: So, it's not about this intention of wanting to fix other people that we cannot control. And there is a release of control in that sense. 

As we come further towards a close, I've thought a lot about theories of change over the last years. And I still don't know the answers in terms of what our path should look like from point A to point B. I have some general ideas in terms of things that I feel more drawn to and that resonate more with me, but I'm also very aware that, at the end of the day, every single social environmental context is different. And if there's anything I've learned, it's that there's no one-size-fits-all answer that can be universalized and applicable everywhere. 

So I also love how you similarly landed on “not landing” as well, and pointing out that the worldview that underpins a lot of our current methods of engagement of trying to create change, things like control, human supremacy, and dominations, are the same ones that got us into this mess. 

With this in mind, what lingering thoughts or guidance can you share with us on staying with the discomfort of not knowing?

Kazu Haga: You mentioned theory of change, and I think I might have written about this a little bit in the book, too. 

I think what we need right now is less of a “theory of change” but rather a “theory of being.”

I think what's happening right now is that the Earth is going through massive transformations that, at this point, we as human beings have no control over. We have no idea the kinds of changes that are in store for us over the next 10, 15, or 50 years. And so, there's no way that we can map out a strategy that gets us from here to liberation in the midst of all of these massive transformations that are happening.

I think what we can understand is, how do we need to be in this moment? What does it mean to be human? What does it mean to be in a full, right relationship with myself, with other human beings, with other forms of life, with the Earth? And maybe that's the best we can do. To have a sense of what it means to be human, and what it means to be alive in this moment, as opposed to being in this delusion that if we think long and hard enough, we can figure out how to get out of this mess.

// musical intermission //

Kaméa Chayne: What has been one of the most impactful books you've read or publications you follow?

Kazu Haga: I have to say the book Hospicing Modernity is one of the most grounding books I've read in the last several years.

Kaméa Chayne: We had the honor of welcoming Dr. Andreotti on the show as well, so I resonate with that. 

What is a motto, mantra, or practice you engage with to stay grounded?

Kazu Haga: I will cheat and share two of my favorite quotes. One is, “Slow is smooth and smooth is fast.” In such an urgent time, I think we need to remember that. And also a paraphrase from the work of Sobonfu Somé who said, “Conflict is the spirit of the relationship asking itself to deepen.” Two of my favorite models.

Kaméa Chayne: Thank you. And what is one of your greatest sources of inspiration at the moment?

Kazu Haga: By far, my nine-month-old, Yexen, we call her Yeye. Seeing her smile every morning and just remembering the purity of what it means to be human is so deeply, deeply grounding.

Kaméa Chayne: I love that. Well, Kazu, thank you so much. It's been such an honor to share this time and conversation with you. I already feel shifted and stretched by this conversation. So, gratitudes for that. 

And as we close off here, where can people find your work, and what are some final words of wisdom on Fierce Vulnerability that you'd like to leave us with as Green Dreamers?

Kazu Haga: I hate social media, so I'm rarely on it, but people can find me at kazuhaga.com. It's K-A-Z-U-H-A-G-A. 

And just to remember that, in this moment where the Earth is going through these massive transformations, I think we're at a place where we are no longer the agents of change. 

Earth is the agent of change. We just need to be in the right relationship to the changes that are inevitable. 

And so, remember the Earth as our biggest ally in this moment. That's a huge ally to have on our side.

 
kamea chayne

Kamea Chayne is a creative, writer, and the host of Green Dreamer Podcast.

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