On Choosing Optimism & Hope
Sustaining the energy from within.
At RIISE, we talk a great deal about optimism. Our brand is anchored in the idea that hope and optimism are not just pleasant states of mind but powerful forces that can transform our environment and, indeed, our world.
Hope and optimism are often associated with joy, effortlessness, joie de vivre. But it would be a mistake to think of them as the easy path. In the context of climate change - a conversation dominated by fear and anxiety - hope and optimism are subversive choices. Cultivating them takes conscious, intentional work.
I’ve been involved in the climate space since my early thirties, and my optimism has ebbed and flowed over that time. To share optimism, I first need to find ways to sustain it myself. When my reservoirs run low, these are the practices I return to.
Climate Change Is a Marathon
I remind myself that climate change is a marathon, not a sprint. (I once attempted the Paris marathon - making it to 31km before my body gave in - so I do know what that kind of endurance feels like). The lesson: celebrate the small wins. I avoid looking too far ahead, as it can be overwhelming, but I do look forward. My focus is on daily actions: what I put in my shopping trolley, cycling to work, or shopping on sustainable platforms like RIISE. Alone, they may feel small, but collectively, billions of little actions are profound.
Stay Informed, Not Consumed
I aim to balance awareness with self-preservation. I want to understand the impacts of a warming climate - forest fires, floods, shifting ecosystems - but I no longer allow myself to spiral into helplessness. I take solace in the fact that no one wants to live in a dystopian future. With every news headline, I no longer just see moral panic, but a growing call to collectively take action.
Optimism Is Contagious
Optimism is energy. I talk about what I’m doing, celebrate the actions of others, and in doing so, create a ripple effect. Joyful acknowledgment fuels others to do their bit. When my own mood dips, I lean into connection - thinking of my children, my supportive network, people I love or have left an indelible mark on my life. These thoughts lift me, and in turn, allow me to radiate optimism outward.
Movement Is Medicine
A knee injury is keeping me from running at the moment, but running has always helped me move out of the analytical mind and into the feeling body. It’s where I process frustrations and come back lighter, clearer, more optimistic. Swimming and cycling offer the same reset. Optimism requires intention and focus. It doesn’t just arrive out of a vacuum, it’s something we practice.
When All Else Fails, Think Bigger
Of course, sometimes the above just doesn’t cut it. I’ve had moments of deep despondency, when optimism feels near-impossible. In those times, I’ve learned to dig deeper and think bigger. In 2017, during one of these down periods, I met Paige Perillat-Piratoine, a French woman living in London who was exploring ‘organic cities’. Together, we developed prototypes for climate-conscious cities designed to house ‘people on the move’ - a newer term for refugees. The idea resonated deeply with me. Having left Sweden for the UK at age 11, I’ve never felt a true belonging to one nation or place. That disconnection, paired with the privilege of an Australian passport, makes me sympathetic to people who are displaced. Our project never progressed past the prototype stage, but the act of reimagining solutions reinvigorated me.
Just Keep Going
This is what I’ve learned: optimism is not naive. It is a deliberate act of courage. Some days, it will waiver. But every small, flawed step adds to collective momentum. Wherever you are on your journey: what you’re doing matters. Every action contributes to the whole. See it, celebrate it, and just keep going.