The Brief

“I feel hopeless.”

“I feel helpless.”

“How do I cope with constant sadness, grief, anger, anxiety, or fear when I’m just trying to get through a normal day?”

“How do I plan for retirement?”

“How do I plan for my thirties?”

“What kind of world will my children grow up in?” “Should I even have children?”

“Am I doing enough? Am I enough?”

These are the types of worries that came up at a recent "Climate Cafe LA,” a free, virtual support group that aims to provide an informal, confidential space for people to connect with each other about the painful emotions that come with living in the climate emergency.

A dozen or so people popped into the Zoom “Climate Cafe” being held on this Sunday morning. About half of them left their cameras off (that’s totally OK, though cameras on is preferred). After setting ground rules — only “I” statements, no advice or judging allowed — the conversation began. People shared about their favorite landscapes, their worries for their own futures or their children’s, the sense of sadness, anxiety, anger and cognitive dissonance they feel all too often, even in the most mundane moments like watching a neighbor mow a lush lawn or idle their car for too long.

With ceaseless headlines of climate disasters around the world and the escalating impacts to our own backyards here in the Southland, there’s a growing movement to address the intertwined crises of mental health and the climate emergency. The efforts range from community-based support groups such as Climate Cafes, to the practice of “ecotherapy,” to boosting training for therapists, psychologists and other public health professionals to better recognize the physical symptoms of climate-related psychological distress.

“The most widespread public health impacts of climate change are actually mental impacts,” said Wael Al-Delaimy, a public health professor at UC San Diego.

Holding space for climate emotions … and finding community

Maksim Batuyev first started experiencing depression when he was about 13 years old, growing up in Michigan.

“This was before climate change was even on my radar,” said Batuyev, who is now 25.

His depression improved with therapy and mindfulness practices, but once he got to college and started pursuing environmental studies, Batuyev said that progress was reversed.

“I went on to spend four years learning about all the different ways that humans were irreparably damaging the planet and poisoning communities,” Batuyev said.

Maksim Batuyev, 25, is the director of the Climate Cafe LA Initiative and a Gen Z advisor for global nonprofit Climate Mental Health Network.

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Courtesy of Maksim Batuyev

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By his senior year, his depression and anxiety were once again overwhelming.

“I realized I'd never been told how to navigate the grief that was coming with this,” Batuyev said. “The climate crisis was just this, like, intense backdrop to what was supposed to be a normal college experience in young adult life … and the normal hardships of growing up.”

After graduating, he moved to Los Angeles to work for a sustainable fashion startup. Now, he’s a Gen Z advisor for the global nonprofit Climate Mental Health Network and the director of Climate Cafe LA.

There’s no brick and mortar cafe, it’s simply people getting together in person or online for free, informal, 90-minute conversations about coping with climate-related emotions.

Batuyev initially piloted the conversations with student groups at UCLA and is now offering Zoom Climate Cafes he co-hosts with other Gen Z facilitators. Such gatherings are a growing trend worldwide.

“It's really about creating a container for us to bring these difficult emotions to the surface,” said Batuyev. “Because all too often we have to stuff them down just to get through our day-to-day lives. We're trying to put food on the table, we're trying to get to work on time. We're stuck processing those emotions in isolation.”

Younger people are particularly impacted — they wonder how much of the Earth will be habitable by the time they’re in their 40s and 50s. In the largest study of its kind, a 2021 survey of 10,000 young people across the world found the vast majority experience emotional distress over the climate crisis on a daily basis, while more than half feel humanity is doomed.

Climate Cafes are mostly geared towards Gen Z, but they've proven to be needed spaces for people of all ages and walks of life.

At the recent virtual Climate Cafe LA, folks from all over the world joined — from Canada to India to the U.K. to New Jersey to right here in Los Angeles. The attendees encompassed a range of ages and professions: activists, therapists, a veteran, scientists and a faith worker. Though a small sample, the group exemplified the diversity of who is struggling with climate-related emotional distress.

Feeling our feelings … without the need to act 

Batuyev said one of the most important — and perhaps surprising — parts of the Climate Cafe is that it explicitly pushes back against the action-oriented narrative that’s common in most climate spaces.

“I think a lot of times when people think about climate, they imagine saving the polar bears, they imagine protesters, they imagine people yelling at each other or demanding that others sign petitions, and it's kind of easy to understand why not everyone's comfortable starting to engage in that way,” Batuyev said.

But providing a space simply to feel emotions, and not act on them, can allow people to build community and find ways to engage with the climate crisis in their own way, Batuyev said. 

“When we're able to help people connect with these intense emotions of grief or despair or anxiety around these issues, what we're really doing is also helping them connect with a place of love,” Batuyev said. “These emotions themselves are very often transformative and what drive us to act and get involved, but I think our problem is that we lack a community around us that enables us to express ourselves and experience these emotions in a safe and comfortable way.”

An accessible support model

Though Climate Cafes are not meant to replace professional help, therapy itself can be out of reach for many people, so these groups can provide support for those who otherwise may not be able to access it, said Isaias Hernandez, 27, who grew up in Sylmar and is the creator of environmental education platform Queer Brown Vegan.

Isaias Hernandez, 27, is the founder of education platform Queer Brown Vegan. He created a Climate Emotions Scale to help people name the feelings they're experiencing around climate change.

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Courtesy of Isaias Hernandez

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Additionally, he said this kind of grassroots peer-to-peer model can be replicated to fit the needs of many different communities.

“Mental health services are expensive. It's a privilege to afford it,” Hernandez said. “Creating grassroots models that center a need for community and a safe space is important.”

Hernandez created a climate emotion scale to help people find the language to describe their climate-related emotions. 

“When someone else validates another person about what they're feeling,” Hernandez said, “I think that allows them to say 'It's not just in my head, it's not a disorder, it's a natural response to what I'm experiencing.'”

How to cope with climate emotions

Recognizing and acknowledging the emotions that are driving our internal narratives around climate change is an important first step to coping and building mental resilience, said Long Beach-based therapist Carol Bartels, who specializes in “ecotherapy,” where clients process their emotions outside in a natural setting.

Coping with those feelings comes down to a lot of well-researched strategies in trauma recovery, she said.

“That is finding a sense of safety, finding the resources inside of our own bodies to relax and to feel a sense of some control and ability to regulate our own emotions,” Bartels said.

Carol Bartels is an ecotherapist based in Long Beach. Here she is at DeForest Wetlands in Long Beach, one of her favorite places to take clients.

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Courtesy of Carol Bartels

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Using breathing exercises or other forms of “grounding” to return to the present moment can help us alleviate panic and find safety and calm within our own bodies, said Bartels. To help her clients get there, Bartels often takes them outside — what’s called “ecotherapy.”

“Getting grounded in one's own body, feeling what's really going on inside of us — nature has a way of helping us tune into that and bringing us right into the present moment,” Bartels said. “Nature does half of the healing.”

Taking action … when you’re ready

Bartels said once you can recognize and hold space for your own climate-related emotions — whether it be grief, anxiety, anger, fear, despair or all of them at once — taking action can play an important role in further building mental resilience.

“It doesn't have to be some grand action of changing the world, but maybe getting involved at a more local level of sustainable projects, or even just within one's own home,” Bartels said. “We can channel these emotions into something that we do have control over, because the feeling of lack of control is such a big problem with this issue.”

To cope with her own overwhelming climate emotions, Bartels grew a permaculture food forest in her backyard. She emphasized that choosing actions rooted in one’s own personal passions and interests — not “shoulds” — is essential to building true emotional resilience.

“As we move forward, we're going to need educators and healers and artists and musicians,” Bartels said.

The next global mental health crisis?

The UC San Diego public health professor, Wael Al-Delaimy, has firsthand experience of the impacts of war and displacement on mental health. Originally from Iraq, Al-Delaimy spent most of his career as an epidemiologist working with refugees in the Middle East and here in Southern California.

Today, he sees the mental health impacts of the climate crisis on people all over the world as the next major public health challenge. He's currently researching how climate disasters are affecting the mental health of people in the Middle East.

Wael Al-Delaimy is a public health professor at UCSD who's researching how the climate crisis is impacting the mental health of people in the Middle East.

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Courtesy of Wael Al-Delaimy

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“The physical impacts are limited to people who are injured, who may die from extreme weather events,” Al-Delaimy said. “And this is small compared to the much more widespread mental illnesses, psychological impacts, which can become chronic. People become traumatized.”

For example, he said, people who have survived a wildfire or serious flooding may be triggered every time they smell fire, or every time it rains. He pointed to how research has found that violence and suicides increase during extreme heat events. There’s also the concept of solastalgia, the emotions that come with watching beloved landscapes change and disappear, upending livelihoods and cultural traditions — something Indigenous communities around the world have coped with for generations.

“The health care system is not prepared for either the acute nor for the chronic [mental health] conditions from climate change,” Al-Delaimy said.

He said physicians and mental health professionals alike need to be trained in talking to their patients about climate-related mental health concerns. And that training needs to be culturally aware, particularly in longtime landing spots for refugees and immigrants such as southern California.

“The mental health crisis is there without climate change,” Al-Delaimy said. “Climate change is just going to make it worse.”

But Al-Delaimy said he sees a lot of promise in the peer-to-peer support model, such as Climate Cafes. For example, his research on community health workers doing outreach with Somali, Iraqi and Syrian refugees in San Diego during COVID found communities were far more likely to trust and engage with workers from their own communities.

“Mental illnesses are hidden. There's denial about them. There's a stigma about it,” Al-Delaimy said. “But they're like any other chronic disease …They need attention. Without that, our society will continue to suffer.”

Resources for people seeking help with climate emotions

Resources for health professionals 

L.A.’s homeless services agency has not completed any internal audits in years — and one that was started two years ago is still incomplete because management is taking months to provide responses, officials said Monday.

The delayed audit has been looking into why the L.A. Homeless Services Authority, known as LAHSA, failed to spend $7 million in federal dollars it was granted to house and serve people in need. The roughly six-page audit report hasn’t been released because it’s missing LAHSA management responses that were requested over two months ago, officials said.

Internal audits are considered critically important to protecting taxpayer dollars at every level of government. L.A. County auditors, for example, issued about 100 reports in a recent fiscal year.

“ We haven’t gotten anything,” said Erum Shahnawaz, LAHSA’s chief internal auditor, referring to the lack of response from LAHSA management at a meeting of the agency’s audit committee on Monday.

“That’s the only thing that's holding us from issuing the final report,” Shahnawaz said of the underspending audit.

That audit is examining a repeat problem. A previous, external audit in January 2022 found LAHSA had left $3.5 million in federal grants on the table by not using them.

Shahnawaz flagged management’s delays to the LAHSA Commissioner Justin Szlasa, Szlasa said. He chairs the commission’s audit committee, and has repeatedly called out LAHSA executives’ delays in providing information about taxpayer spending over the past year.

“ I've been trying to intervene and use whatever I can to try to help provide support,” said Szlasa as he described his attempts to get the auditor the answers needed to complete the report.

Szlasa was appointed to the commission by L.A. County Supervisor Kathryn Barger.

 “It shouldn't take us two months to receive a…management response to an internal audit,” Szlasa said at Monday’s meeting. He said the industry standard for internal audits is eight or nine weeks from start to finish. That compares to the two years — and counting — for LAHSA’s federal underspend audit.

“We haven't had a single internal audit completed here in the last couple of years, which is nuts,” Szlasa added. He called for internal audits to happen much more frequently.

Long delays to LAHSA audits also are not new. In November 2024, the county issued a widely-seen audit that included findings that LAHSA was failing to complete internal audits.

Half of LAHSA’s governing commission is appointed by L.A. Mayor Karen Bass and half appointed by each of the five county supervisors. Bass is also the only elected official on the commission. She served on the audit committee for several months last fall. Records show she was absent for all of the meetings during that time.

Janine Lim, LAHSA’s deputy chief financial officer, said management’s responses to the audit on underspending haven’t been provided yet because LAHSA leadership did not have clearly defined roles for who is supposed to coordinate responses to internal audits.

“ We need to work on clarifying that role internally,” Lim said.

 “The last two months have been probably some of the most stress-filled two months that we've had at LAHSA,” said Paul Rubenstein, chief of staff to LAHSA CEO Gita O’Neil, pointing to mass layoffs.

Szlasa said there’s not that much in the audit for management to respond to.

“It's like, six pages or less,” he said.

Szlasa said  another option is to “just say we've asked management for responses and we're awaiting management response. We can publish the results.”

In response, Shahnawaz said that if management doesn't have an updated timeline for a response, then she’ll go ahead and issue the report without the response.

Once they floated that idea, Lim committed to providing the responses by next Tuesday.

LAHSA’s leadership has downsized the internal audit team — dropping from a staff of three to just one in the agency’s proposed budget up for approval Friday.

Delays in getting access to financial records

The delayed responses from management are not the only thing that’s been slowing down audits, Szlasa said at the meeting.

LAHSA policy, approved by its governing commission, says internal auditors are “ authorized to access all organizational records, personnel, and systems necessary for conducting audits,” he said.

But the auditor has faced challenges in actually getting that access, Szlasa said — including delays in being allowed to view LAHSA’s databases that show contracts and financial payments.

 ”We finally were granted access, but it wasn't, it wasn't easy, it wasn't immediate. It was slow,” Szlasa said.

Many failed outside audits

The delays on the internal audit come even after LAHSA failed multiple external audits in recent years, which have found the agency — overseen by city and county elected officials — has neglected to properly track billions of dollars in spending.

Largely in response to earlier audits, L.A. County supervisors pulled funding from LAHSA and are having the county instead oversee it directly. L.A.’s mayor and City Council have continued to have LAHSA manage the city’s homeless spending while the council delays plans to start studying a possible plan to transition away city tax dollars.

Signatures under scrutiny

LAHSA is also in the midst of a different internal audit — expected to finish in late August or early September — examining whether top officials followed requirements when signing contracts and letting others sign. It was launched in the wake of LAist reporting that found LAHSA’s then-CEO Va Lecia Adams Kellum’s signature finalized a $2.1 million contract with her husband’s employer.

LAist also discovered Adams Kellum’s signature, as LAHSA’s CEO at the time, finalized a quarter-million-dollar contract between LAHSA and a longtime service provider she led up until two months earlier.

That contract was signed so soon after she left the service provider — St. Joseph Center — that the contract paperwork still listed her as one of St. Joseph Center’s points of contact and authorized signers.

She is currently under a state ethics investigation into whether her actions were an illegal conflict of interest.

When Bengara opened in Los Angeles' Arts District earlier this year, its owner and head chef had something special lined up in their kitchen arsenal.

It was genshiyaki, a rare traditional Japanese grilling method that dates back 1,500 years.

Chef and co-owner Tyler Burges had only encountered it once while traveling in Japan at a robatayaki spot in Fukuoka, a port city on the island of Kyushu.

Robatayaki, a style of slow, ember-cooked grilling rooted in Japan's rural coastal kitchens, usually centers on an open charcoal hearth. But the restaurant Burges visited had something even more noteworthy: a genshiyaki pit, a gentler, ambient method of cooking that uses radiant heat instead of direct flame.

Loving the unusually subtle, delicate flavor and texture it produced, he and head chef Phil Mireles decided to bring genshiyaki back to the U.S. and build their Arts District restaurant around it. The genshiyaki pit is a rare enough technique that Burges had to work with fabricator Phil Roxworthy for six months just to get the grill built to spec.

It's Burges' and Mireles' first L.A. project. The pair are also behind Smoke Door, their acclaimed Lake Tahoe restaurant, and Bengara brings a more casual, day-to-day take on the same fire-driven cooking.

All roads lead to the Arts District

Chef/owner Tyler Burges (left) and head chef Phil Mireles at Bengara.

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Wonho Frank Lee

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Courtesy Bengara

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Burges and Mireles both got their start at San Francisco's Saison and Angler under chef Joshua Skenes — who's now just down the street in L.A. at LYNX with fellow alum Brandyn Tepper.

Burges traces Bengara's DNA back to two mentors: Ron Siegel, who introduced him to Japanese ingredients and technique in his mid-20s, and Skenes, who taught him to cook with live fire. It was Skenes, Burges said, who showed him that fire didn't have to mean char and bravado.

"The one thing I loved about wood-fire cooking is you get this subtle, sweet barbecue flavor when you cook correctly over embers, and you don't cook directly over the fire," Burges said. "Most places, when you think about grilling something, you think of char, bold flavors, masculine flavors. But Chef Josh — it's like a master art, getting really delicate, subtle flavor using that grill method."

The uni kiritampo, Bengara's take on a traditional Akita-prefecture rice skewer, finished with scallion.

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Wono Frank Lee

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Courtesy Bengara

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What sets the food apart

Take their luscious miso cod. On a normal grill, the marinade's sugars would blacken before the fish cooked through. On the genshiyaki pit, the cod sits at a distance from the embers, cooking gently until the very end, when it's given one last pass directly over the coals — what Burges describes as a final "kiss" of heat before it hits the plate.

To fuel genshiyaki's slower, ambient style, ordinary charcoal or wood is replaced with binchotan, an ultra-dense, pure-carbon hardwood charcoal traditionally made in Japan, which burns hotter and cleaner.

The signature dish

A perfect example of how this cooking style comes together is the uni kiritampo, the Akita prefecture rice skewer, reimagined with uni and cooked via genshiyaki — born of an offhand kitchen conversation with one of the restaurant's Japanese chefs about regional dishes cooked over fire.

Once they realized genshiyaki was the dish's original, historic cooking method, the rest fell into place.

"It's like the most delicious thing," Burges said. "I don't know why it never made it over to the United States earlier."

Bengara's Arts District dining room pairs industrial bones with warm, low lighting and long communal tables.

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Wonho Frank Lee

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Courtesy Bengara

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The chewy exterior, with just a hint of smoke, gives way to a creamy inside, like a caramelized custard, that’s topped with a decadent amount of uni, providing a semi-sweet finish — one memorable bite.

Tasting menu option

Bengara recently added a daily eight-course tasting menu ($98) that doubles as a greatest-hits tour of the kitchen — Toyosu carpaccio with chili coffee oil, pork belly "tacos" wrapped in mochi crepes, miso cod, Mary's half chicken, and handmade citrus soba, with optional wagyu and uni add-ons.

The price includes a beverage pairing, with a full non-alcoholic option alongside the boozy version. Walk-ins are welcome, and reservations can be booked via OpenTable.

Topline:

Why it matters: Museum officials said you will “likely experience high demand and long wait times in the queue" and thanked people for their patience.

LAist saw estimated wait times up to 6 hours, and it took a little more than 4.5 hours for this reporter to get through. On the bright side, there were still plenty of tickets left, including for the first day. Do not refresh the page or you may lose your spot.

The details: All tickets are timed entry. Tickets are $25 for adults and $21 for those 65 and older. Children, members, active-duty military, personal aides or attendants and EBT cardholders have free entry. Museum neighbors in the LM37 program will also be free, with that pass opening in August.

But how do I buy: Each person is limited to nine tickets, and you’ll have 20 minutes to check out once they’re added to your cart, according to the museum. You can find the link here.

What's next: The grand opening is Sept. 22.

Go deeper: How to secure Lucas Museum of Narrative Art tickets ahead of the fall opening

Inglewood officials are working on a full rewrite of the city map for the first time in nearly 40 years, laying out how they want the city to grow and change for the next two decades.

Along part of Manchester Boulevard, city planners are setting up an option for developers to rebuild rows of small storefronts with a mix of homes and commercial space. On La Brea Avenue, south of Centinela Avenue, they envision the possibility of dense housing and business blocks as high as six stories.

Jerome Johnson, an Inglewood local, said he’s lived through three decades of change in the city. He recalled watching a “raggedy market” at the corner of La Brea and Centinela make way for the two-story shopping center that’s there today. He said the potential developments around the intersection could be a catch-22.

“There’s a shortage of housing,” Johnson said. “But you don’t want it to turn into New York City.”

It’s all part of the ongoing process for Inglewood’s new general plan, the foundational guide that governs things like what kind of buildings can be built where in the city and how they need to look. A draft land-use plan will go before the Inglewood City Council on Tuesday, then go into the environmental impact review process.

“This is really a historic milestone for the city,” Bernard McCrumby, Inglewood development services director, told The LA Local. 

McCrumby said planners are aiming to open up room for new housing and to revitalize some of the city’s flagging business corridors, without changing the city’s existing residential blocks or sacrificing the grocery stores, barbershops and local restaurants that make neighborhoods tick.

“The stadiums and arenas are here, they’re not going anywhere,” McCrumby said. “Now we can plan around those.”

The last time the city did a full update of its general plan was 1987, when horses were still racing at Hollywood Park and the “Showtime” Lakers were winning championships at the Forum. Edward Vincent Jr., the city’s first Black mayor, had only been in office for four years. 

The city has made intermittent updates to its planning guidelines since then — notably remapping a band of Inglewood along the Metro K line before it opened — but city documents indicate planners spent the past couple years working on a comprehensive rewrite. 

The new update to the general plan could set the city’s direction until 2050.

Planners hope to change some of the city’s commercial corridors into mixed-use zones that allow for housing and businesses alongside each other or even stacked on top of each other.

Those zones could go in place along Century Boulevard and Arbor Vitae Street as well as Manchester, Centinela and La Brea.

The rest of the update, McCrumby said, is aimed at lining the city’s zoning regulations up with state law and the city’s current reality on the ground.

City staff held several community meetings over the last year as they put together the draft and still aren’t done gathering feedback. 

The next year will see at least one more community meeting and a 45-day public review period, according to city documents. McCrumby said that, with the anchor of the land-use map in place, planners will continue to work on the rest of the general plan, targeting final City Council approval of the plan and accompanying environmental impact report next spring.

You can get all the details on the general plan at nextlevelinglewood.com and attend the City Council meeting at 2 p.m. on Tuesday to give a public comment.

We also want to know what you think of the proposed changes. Email isaiah@thelalocal.org with your questions or thoughts.