I have been a social justice activist for over forty years and have found hope to be a prerequisite for creating change and inspiring others. Hope has been built into the DNA of my life. I come from a family dedicated to social justice. My father was a pioneer in the field of criminal justice and led the fight against capital and corporal punishment in Canada. With our morning oatmeal, my two sisters and I were taught that we owed something back for the privilege of living in a place of such opportunity. We were taught that hope is a moral imperative, and it has been my lifelong mantra. Recently, however, it has been getting harder to remain hopeful against the relentless tide of negative information that threatens to drown us in a sea of despair. It is hard to pass a day that we don't read of more fires, hurricanes and drought; of the mass melting of the planet's ice cover; of the sixth great extinction.

As well, we are entering a time of great economic uncertainty and devastating hardship for many millions of our fellow humans. Even before Covid exacted its terrible discipline, the UN announced that three quarters of the world's workers are in precarious jobs, without pensions, security or even a livable wage. The idea of this book came to me on a lovely June evening in 2019 in a packed Ottawa church. I was on a panel about the Green New Deal where each person spoke in language that I can only describe as apocalyptic, the message hammered home that there are only ten years left of a habitable planet. I noted that there were a lot of young people in the audience, including my 16-year-old granddaughter, Eleanor. In my presentation, I spoke of hope and about building movements. After the event, a high school student came up to me in tears and thanked me, saying she and her friends had sat devastated throughout the panel discussion until I spoke. What could they do in the face of such overwhelming evidence of ecological collapse, she asked.

On my walk home, the air fragrant with apple blossoms and lilac trees and the evening too lovely to feel anything but joy, I made a vow to help that young woman, and my grandkids, to find the path ahead. How could I take what I have learned -- including all the mistakes -- and share it in a helpful way with others? Standing under a newly leafed tree silvered by a new moon, I remembered the words of a PEI farmer friend who said that when he is overwhelmed, he stops thinking of the enormity of the challenges he is facing and instead, asks himself one simple question: what is the next appropriate step to take? Then he takes it. Well, for me, the next appropriate step to take was to write this book. I offer it to you, with hope.