Chapter 1. Introduction —Holding Both Fire and Water

The wildfire smoke hangs thick in the summer air, carrying stories of forests and homes lost. Along the riverbank, an Elder watches the water’s edge slowly rise and remembers the old teachings: fire and water are powerful teachers. In this moment, our communities are learning to hold both – the destructive “fire” of climate impacts and the life-giving “water” of hope and resilience.

Climate change isn’t a distant threat for Indigenous peoples and communities – it’s personal, immediate, and intimately tied to our ways of life. In British Columbia and across Turtle Island, First Nations, Métis, and Inuit communities have witnessed unprecedented wildfires, deadly heat domes, and devastating floods in recent years (1). These events are not just “natural disasters” in a news story; they strike at the heart of our territories and our identity. For Indigenous Peoples with deep ties to the land, melting glaciers or dying forests aren’t abstract environmental issues – they are traumatic events that represent a loss of culture and home (2). The land holds our stories, language, and ancestors. When it is threatened, our mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being is threatened as well.

Holding Both Fire and Water

The title of this chapter reflects a balancing act that many Indigenous communities understand well. “Fire” symbolizes the crisis – the climate-fueled wildfires, the scorching heat, the drying of our territories – as well as the anger, grief, and urgency that come with these changes. “Water” symbolizes life, healing, and the flow of resilience – the ceremonies by the water’s edge, the tears we shed in grief and in hope, and the teachings that help us adapt. In our traditions, water and fire can both cleanse and transform. To hold both means to acknowledge the pain and loss (fire) while also nurturing hope, healing, and knowledge (water). Indigenous Elders often remind us that we must face challenges directly but not lose sight of the remedies and teachings that can guide us through. This guide is about navigating that balance, carrying grief and hope together as we respond to the climate crisis.

Climate Change and Mental Health in Indigenous Context

Climate change’s psychological toll on Indigenous peoples has often been overlooked in the past, viewed as an “invisible” impact behind sea level rise or temperature charts. But ignoring these mental and spiritual impacts is dangerous – unchecked climate distress can lead to depression, community disengagement, or hopelessness, which undermine our overall resilience. Recent research is finally highlighting these often-ignored consequences of climate change on culture and well-being (3). For example, studies show that those who contribute least to climate change, such as Indigenous communities, often experience the most severe psychological distress from its effects (3). This guide exists because we recognize that climate change is not just a physical battle, but an emotional and spiritual one too. We must address it on all fronts.

Climate change is far more than changes in weather patterns; it is entwined with colonial history and the well-being of our communities. Indigenous Peoples have endured generations of colonial disruption – forced relocations, loss of lands, and suppression of cultural practices (2). Now, climate change is adding to that strain (2). For many, there is a sense of cultural mourning: as species disappear or seasons shift, it can feel like losing a relative or a part of oneself. Traditional foods, medicines, and sacred places are at risk. These losses impact not only physical survival but also mental health, identity, and community cohesion. Indeed, research shows an “inextricable link” between mental health and the impacts of climate change on culture (2). For example, if a First Nation community’s salmon run fails due to warming rivers, it’s not just an economic loss – it’s a spiritual and emotional wound, a break in the relationship between people and the land.

It’s important to recognize that Indigenous perspectives on health are holistic. Whereas Western frameworks often separate physical and mental health, Indigenous communities include spiritual health and emotional wellbeing as equally vital aspects of health (2). All these dimensions are interconnected. When the land is hurting, we feel it in our bodies, hearts, and spirits. Changes linked to the climate crisis – from melting ice to prolonged droughts – affect health across all these categories (2). In other words, climate change can cause eco-anxiety, climate grief, and spiritual distress in Indigenous contexts, because land, culture, and well-being are deeply interwoven. An Elder from one community described the feeling as “like losing part of your family every time the land changes beyond recognition.” Such experiences underscore why we must address climate change not only with policy and technology, but with healing and mental wellness in mind.

Resilience and Traditional Strengths

Yet, alongside the fear and grief, there is strength. Indigenous peoples are not merely victims of climate change – we are also knowledge holders and leaders of resilience. Our ancestors survived ice ages, floods, and great transformations of the earth by listening to the land and holding onto collective knowledge. First Nations, Métis, and Inuit communities carry thousands of years of wisdom about adaptation and respect for natural cycles. We have stories of fire that regenerates the forest, and of water that finds new paths when blocked. These traditional teachings are incredibly relevant today. They remind us that while change is constant, so is the possibility of renewal.

Throughout this guide, we will see how communities are revitalizing cultural practices and land-based relationships to bolster mental health in the face of climate adversity. Maintaining and sharing cultural traditions – whether through song, art, harvesting, or ceremony – is itself a powerful way to cope with climate change (4). For example, some coastal Indigenous communities in the Torres Strait turn to music and dance about the ocean to ease their anxiety about sea level rise (4). Closer to home, you might see youth and Elders organizing berry-picking outings or medicine walks after a wildfire, to reaffirm that “the land is still here and so are we.” These acts of cultural continuity are more than symbolic; they actively enhance emotional well-being and remind people of their resilience.