A New Wave of Ocean Stewardship with Youth Solutionist Bodhi Patil

"Protecting what is us" through ocean conservation, the blue economy and bridging traditional ecological knowledge with innovative technologies.

Bodhi Patil is a United Nations-recognized ocean steward and the founder of InnerLight, an organization dedicated to strengthening the connection between ocean health and human well-being. Bodhi’s global upbringing across five continents has deepened his commitment to environmental stewardship and shaped his understanding of the interconnectedness of all life. His work integrates Indigenous wisdom with modern solutions, with a focus on empowering communities to become active caretakers of their marine environments.

Through initiatives like Ocean Uprise, Bodhi is engaging youth and promoting intergenerational collaboration to address pressing oceanic challenges. His efforts aim to restore and protect marine ecosystems for future generations while inspiring a thriving, respectful relationship between humanity and the oceans. Bodhi has been featured on platforms such as TEDx, CNN, and United Nations Web TV, where he continues to share his vision for the future of our oceans.

This interview has been transcribed from audio, with some revised sections.

INL: Tell us about your relationship with the ocean. What does she invoke in you when you think of her?

Bodhi: My relationship with the ocean is deeply personal, and it's something that I've cultivated for 23 years now. I'm 22 years old, but for the first nine months when I was coming into existence, I think that's when I had perhaps the closest relationship to the ocean—in my mother's womb, which was like my own mini ocean that I got to swim and play in.

Now, my relationship to the ocean has evolved in so many ways, becoming part of my life, career, friendships, and personal growth journey. It's quite literally flowed into every part of my existence and every cell of my body, like we're biologically connected. It's really exciting because as the ocean is healed and begins to heal, I feel like my own world begins to heal. At the same time, as the ocean suffers and struggles and she cries out for help, I feel that same sense of difficulty within my body, my mind, and my spirit.

My relationship to the ocean can be summed up as a direct link, an unbreakable bond—one that I can continue to cultivate for 80+ years, hopefully living to be a centenarian in the blue zones of the ocean, continuing this connection for many more generations. I know that my ancestors, from whom I've learned, and the ancestors yet to come, are directly connected to water or riverine ecosystems—and those ecosystems flow into the big blue, linking us through our food, cultures, shipping, goods, the sound waves that carry across the ocean, and the sea floor that shapes rifts, unique species, and habitats.

Everything in the world is basically a creation and birth from the ocean. It's pretty cool that, as we're birthed into this world, for over 3.8 billion years, the ocean has been actively creating all these forms of life in so many special ways.

Bodhi exploring the ocean depths alongside a stingray.

INL: What does ocean justice mean to you, and why is it crucial in today's environmental landscape?

Bodhi: Ocean justice applies the principles of environmental justice to the ocean. Simply put, ocean justice is ensuring that all coastal communities, especially BIPOC communities—so Black, Indigenous and people of color communities have access to a safe, healthy, and regenerative ocean, and the environments that it contains and helps to sustain. It's ensuring that everyone has access to a healthy ocean, especially those that have faced a lot of discrimination and marginalization when trying to benefit from the ocean's resources and opportunities. That's something that has evolved a lot in the last decade.

Historically, ocean justice was commonplace. In the 1700s, 1800s, and earlier, many indigenous communities had access to their coastal resources and traditional fishing practices [without interference]. These practices weren't banned or exploited because illegal, unreported, and unregulated (IUU) fishing didn't exist. For coastal people, ocean justice was the norm. Although there was intercultural and intertribal warfare, and different forms of power struggles—often led by men, like it continues to be—and often corrected by matriarchs. This is the same balance we need to return to.

There's always been a struggle for the use of the ocean, but in many ways, there was more equity in pre-colonial times when the ocean was accessible to everyone. The bravest of souls would voyage across the seas to discover new ecosystems and lands. By the 1500s and 1600s, through different processes of colonization during the [so-called] era of discovery¹, we began to see exploitation of the ocean. Ocean injustices emerged, with things like the transatlantic slave trade perpetuating on massive scale. Enslaved people were transported on big ships from West Africa across the Atlantic to the Caribbean, where a lot of slave trade ports and plantations were established. Ocean injustices have been around since colonization began, and they remain directly linked.

The notion of ocean justice is about coming back to the shared sense of unity that the ocean offers us—a shared sense of resources that are part of the blue economy, and a shared sense of justice in approaching who should and who shouldn't govern the ocean, especially coastal ecosystems that provide so many benefits.

Wisdom Keepers Delegation at the 29th United Nations Climate Change Conference of the Parties (COP29) in Baku, Azerbaijan.

In recent years, the biggest development with ocean justice has been this resurgence of “blue justice” and “blue hope”—with blue representing the ocean or waterways, and justice representing the struggle and fight for equity, something that feels within reach.

A couple examples include the Ocean Justice Forum in 2022 with Dr. Ayanna Elizabeth Johnson, Pacific Island voyagers², and 17 environmental organizations coming together to set forth an ocean justice strategy. This informed a strategy in 2023 with President Biden, and in 2024, the Ocean Climate Action Plan that was released—unfortunately, later overturned by President Trump.

Ocean justice is something that we must continue to fight for because the ocean is a common heritage of all humankind. The deep sea, under the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, is something we share ownership of. Every human being in every country on this planet is a partial owner—and therefore a partial steward—of the deep sea.

The deep sea is the essence of all life. It is where life emerged from 560 million years ago. We must all work to protect it’s systems because they are our common heritage. They’re our ancestors, where we evolved from, and they hold our future. A healthy deep-sea ecosystem is what our future depends on. If we continue to extract, exploit, and move toward deep seabed mining, this will not be a shared future for our ancestors or the generations to come—including Gen Z and Gen Alpha, who are already facing difficult struggles.

Like the environmental justice movement, ocean justice strives for equity and equality in ocean science, policy, and management. But it is very far from being accessible. A lot of the ocean movements and conservation organizations working on ocean campaigns are oftentimes not representative of the communities most affected by ocean challenges—like acidification, coral bleaching, maritime shipping pollution, oil spills, and other impacts.

Like we've seen in a lot of industries, white men and folks from the Global North have traditionally lead these organizations and controlled the flow of funding. This is a historical injustice that continues today. Those closest to the problem should have the biggest roles in finding the solutions because they are most equipped with the knowledge and tools to do so. Of course, collaboration is necessary. Part of the Ocean Justice Movement is making sure that we invite and welcome as many newcomers into this space as possible, especially those connected to these communities. And don't try to keep them away or at bay by using fancy terminology and jargon that keeps people out. Inclusion and equity and making sure young people have access is really important.

That's why I'm really excited to shift and share resources with young people, including upcoming fellowships that allow them to start their journey, build their dream careers, and choose their own destiny in ocean stewardship. I've had many opportunities, and I want to give back in the most inclusive ways possible.

The ocean is a place for everyone to play and enjoy. So let's make sure access is as equitable as possible—because it sure is breathtaking and soul-fulfilling.

Below, see Bodhi’s speech at COP29, as a member of the Wisdom Keepers Delegation.

INL: How do we ensure local communities have access to marine ecosystems while also promoting conservation?

Bodhi: Fence-based conservation is way too old. It's of the past, and new collaborative ways to conserve marine ecosystems are gaining traction. One of my favorite ways is adaptive co-management. People have always lived in these so-called wilderness or pristine ecosystems, but many park services and colonial regimes around the world have established methods to preserving wilderness that remove or forcibly evacuate people who have traditionally stewarded and lived on these lands because they don't fit the picture of an idealized landscape. This reflects a patriarchal, and in some cases colonial or Judeo-Christian, perspective on nature that doesn’t represent what nature is— a connected landscape shaped by human behaviors, decisions, cultures, and biocultures.

We have to first understand that humans and nature being separate is a false notion, fed to us by extractive industries hoping to maintain this divide for their benefit. When people realize that extracting nature isn’t just an economic pitfall in the longterm but also a biocultural, biological, and cultural health issue, they’re strongly opposed. These notions of separation and disconnection are false narratives perpetuated by industries and corporations that have gained immense wealth in the 21st century. We need to break these systems of separation if we want to achieve justice, health, and well-being for our natural world.

In the marine world, especially with marine ecosystems, countless communities have existed. On the West Coast of Vancouver Island, for example, people have lived for over 14,000 years, as evidenced by carbon-dated shellfish and clam piles. Around the world, communities have stewarded marine ecosystems for over 30,000 years, using traditional ecological knowledge (TEK) techniques. These range from fish ponds in the Kingdom of Hawai’i to algae cultivation in Southeast Asia to sustainable salmon fishing and seal hunting in the Arctic.

In the early 1800s, more than 450 fishponds were dotted around the coastlines of the Hawaiian Islands. Image by Mickey Pauole.

There are countless examples of Indigenous communities stewarding marine ecosystems and cohabitating these spaces alongside the biodiversity native to them. Just as species are endemic to certain places, people can be endemic, native, localized, Indigenous—or, in Canada, First Nations—whose cultures are directly connected to these places. This makes them just as much a part of the ecosystem as any plant, animal, rock or natural feature. In marine conservation, we have to understand that the marine space is a transboundary space—something that transcends borders that have been made by humans to divide—and the ocean transcends division. The ocean connects us; it doesn't feel the borders, besides the illegal fishing and malpractice on the high seas that are a shared space.

When governing marine ecosystems, we must prioritize adaptive co-management and ensure funding and support for Native and Indigenous communities co-stewarding these ecosystems with governments and conservation groups. From the very get-go—like with the Chumash Heritage National Marine Sanctuary off California's coast or the Great Bear Sea in Vancouver—there must be mechanisms in place to properly fund, support, and educate communities. This ensures the protection, monitoring, and continued application of both Western and Indigenous science for generations to come. That is true conservation. That is true long-term regeneration of marine ecosystems.

Lastly, many ecosystems hold intrinsic value, both culturally and biologically, that can’t be measured monetarily. Through the rights of nature and the nature-based economy movements, particularly in valuing natural assets, we’re beginning to see how much intrinsic value nature holds in the market. Supporting people to protect these shared natural assets benefits both the global community and those who live closest to them.

On a balance sheet, cutting down a mangrove is worth far less in the long term than sustaining that mangrove, which sequesters carbon and provides habitat for juvenile fish. Educating and supporting local communities and Indigenous people (two separate categories) is really important, as this protects natural assets and increases long-term value. Our natural capital is running low, and our economy is following suit. We will soon reach a point where natural assets are so depleted that replenishment becomes impossible. This ties into the concept of planetary boundaries, particularly with greenhouse gas emissions. We have only a finite amount of time to stop destruction and start regeneration. That time, according to the climate clock³, is just 4 years and 161 days—so let’s get cracking on it. Time it ticking.

Conserving marine ecosystems is, in my opinion, the best tool we have to restore planetary health. Marine ecosystems have been the planet’s longest-standing carbon storage systems, dating back 3.8 billion years to when the ocean was first formed. That’s incredible. Plus, conserving these ecosystems allows us to connect with communities that have protected them for thousands of years. It’s very special to learn their solutions and stories—they have powerful ones to share.

There are countless ways you can support organizations that lead and champion adaptive co-management, co-management, or co-governance of marine ecosystems, supporting both Indigenous rights and the rights of the ocean. She [the ocean] should have rights, just as we do.

Fisherman and Eyak tribal member Dune Lankard is leading Indigenous efforts in Alaska’s kelp boom while advancing ocean co-management and climate adaptation.

INL: Which sectors or funding mechanisms do you think have the greatest potential to drive ocean restoration? How do you propose allocating those funds?

Bodhi: Ocean funding needs to drastically increase to reach the potential of a regenerative blue economy⁴. This means more investment in ocean technologies young ocean leaders, traditional stewards of oceanic ecosystems, and blue carbon ecosystems. We also need investment in offshore wind, offshore maritime tidal, and offshore energy as a whole. And, of course, in industries of aquaculture and mariculture, along with regenerative (specifically fish) farming in local ecosystems—that cut out the pollution, waste, and mismanagement that many [industrial] fish farms create, which are destroying otherwise healthy ecosystems.

The ocean economy breakdown is a little like this: it’s projected to reach $3 trillion by 2030, positioning it as one of the fastest-growing economies, according to the Middlebury Center for the Blue Economy⁵. Organizations like Our Shared Seas and Save Our Seas provide valuable insights into ocean conservation capital.

For capital that goes towards restoring or protecting natural ecosystems and restoring or protecting communities that help steward ocean ecosystems, the total value of that capital is less than a trillion dollars—far less, in fact. It's not even a billion dollars. Even though the ocean economy is growing quickly, much of that growth has been based on activities that cause significant pollution and noise pollution. This includes offshore drilling, offshore techniques in oil and gas, and offshore maritime transit. These are all part of a non-regenerative—or extractive—blue economy.

A lot of the capital has been directed toward ocean activities that harm rather than benefit the ocean. We have to flip the script. Moving from an extractive to a regenerative blue economy is key. We need to increase the allocation of capital toward activities like seaweed farming, coral gardening, and seagrass restoration, and restoring blue natural capital or ecosystems—including mangroves, salt marshes, seagrass meadows, and tidal flats—that are incredibly important. These ecosystems [also] play a critical role in sequestering carbon and storing it for long periods of time—sometimes over a thousand years—in sediment cores, the benthic zone or seafloor of the ocean, and in coastal areas.

Underwater roots of mangrove trees, crucial for coastal ecosystems, providing habitat for marine life and protecting shorelines from erosion.

It just requires a little bit of waking up and a little bit more cash flow. Our Shared Seas Report⁶ shows that many big philanthropies support ocean conservation activities by investing in organizations like Oceania and bigger ocean NGOs that aren't necessarily putting most of their capital into communities. They're using a lot of it for overhead, marketing, campaigns, and communications, which reaches a small group of people. This doesn't accelerate the amount of impact that can happen when you invest directly in a community.

In order to protect the ocean and restore ecosystems, we need to invest directly into communities. Private philanthropists have to be willing to take riskier investments directly to coastal stewards of blue natural capital. That will help us have more attractive ocean investments because it'll de-risk investing. More investors will then put in, realizing that it's a really good investment to protect a mangrove estuary, as it generates economic, social, governmental, political, and environmental returns. It's not just a triple bottom line—it’s a quintuple bottom line. There are many other benefits to the long-term health of those systems when you invest in protecting a mangrove forest, seagrass bed, or an estuary of dugongs, or whatever it might be.

Accumulating more capital isn't enough. We have to change the system of how we invest and who controls the investment. Having fund managers or asset managers who are connected to communities, Indigenous people, and coastal stewards is really important. This way, they can understand and discern which might be the best calls—not just pouring 60%, for instance, in the case of some large conservation NGOs that will not be named, into overhead. Instead, we should aim to put 60% into the community, or 80% into the community, with the remaining 20% for marketing, communications, education, and capacity building.

So yes, we’ve got to get more money for the ocean, spend money better for the ocean, and direct it to help the people who have the most experience in protecting it make the calls. That would make the world a much healthier place and the ecosystems that we love and want to protect a lot better in terms of their condition and overall health.

Bodhi as speaker and judge at the Sustainable Ocean Alliance Wavemakers Impactathon Accelerator, 2024.

That’s a bit about the ocean funding world and my take on how we can improve it, working with venture capitalists, philanthropists, and investors. We have a long way to go—but what an exciting opportunity to invest better in the ocean. There are so many great technologies out there, and the best technology of them all is just simply restoring and supporting ecosystems that have a large capacity to buffer our heat and carbon.

The ocean has been the largest carbon sink since pre-industrial times. It’s absorbed 90% of the excess heat released from carbon emissions and greenhouse gas emissions from fossil fuel burning. Simply put, the ocean is our greatest climate solution. Investing in the ocean is the safest long-term investment you could possibly make on a planetary level.

INL: What does it mean to be a youth activist today? How do you navigate peer-to-peer relationships while also learning from elders? How do you weave these intergenerational connections to bring a broad perspective grounded in wisdom?

Bodhi: I was thinking a lot about that this weekend because a lot of my friends are always asking, “How do you balance work and life?” A lot of young people are also asking: “How do you balance the nexus of having a global voice—putting ocean conservation, ocean climate solutions, advocacy, Indigenous rights, ocean health, and human health into the ether, into the global web and network of connection in a professional way—and also just be a student? Be someone who’s loving life, having fun, and not being serious all the time?”

I think being a youth activist today means taking your job seriously, but not so seriously that it becomes all-consuming. That's been a really tricky space to navigate because we're constantly inundated with issues—like Robert Bank's Terminal 2 outside of Vancouver near Point Roberts, Washington, where I grew up every summer playing in the tide pools—which is going to be an expanded coal port that’s going to damage our salmon runs and our critically endangered Southern Resident killer whales. There's only 73 left.

A young Southern Resident killer whale chases a Chinook salmon in the Salish Sea near the San Juan Islands. Image by Holly Fearnbach.

So, when things like that are coming up on a daily basis—the expansion of the coal port or the expansion of the Trans Mountain pipeline just over here in North Vancouver in the Burrard Inlet (an ecosystem stewarded to the Tsleil-Waututh people)—and also, I'm here on the lands of the Musqueam, Squamish, and Tsleil-Waututh people, their shared ancestral, unceded traditional territories. A lot of these developments, just locally, are massive. Then, if you think outside of Vancouver, the amount of threats facing the ocean is massive.

When you care about the ocean so deeply, to a point where you feel when it suffers and you feel when it celebrates, it's really painful not to take action—when action is the greatest antidote to apathy. So it's hard not to engage.

Sometimes being a youth activist today means putting your phone down, putting your technology down, and taking a break—having a laugh, going out to the bar, going for a ski or a surf, or doing whatever you can to not always be thinking of what to do next. The greatest threat to being a youth activist—or a youth solutionist, which is what I call myself, someone that helps to solve problems rather than create more—is really burning out, and more than that, imploding.

I think you see a lot of young people who have built great trajectories and careers lose a lot of steam and momentum because they just can't handle what they're building, and they can't handle themselves. The greatest gift you can give the environment is being a master of your own destiny and yourself. Because if you can master and be at peace within, then you can help create peace outside of yourself.

I think that's such an underrated topic—and even a taboo topic—in youth activism, because it's always on to the next. That informs a lot of my peer-to-peer relationships and just hanging out with my friends, because sometimes I can't really relate to the problems they're having, and sometimes they can't really relate to the struggles, the depth of understanding, connection, and pain I'm feeling—or the joy when we have advocacy wins or environmental wins, like protecting the deep sea, stopping offshore gas development, stopping coastal development, starting a new ocean investment firm, starting a new consulting line, or a fellowship for ocean justice, for instance. These are all things that have come up in the last year.

I think it's really important to listen to the elders in that context. Sometimes, even when you have these great relationships with young people and your friends—even as a “yelder”(a young elder, as I've been called by elders myself). It's interesting because you have to balance two worlds and walk between both of them, with one foot in each, and sometimes two feet in each. You're hopping lines, between different worlds, navigating different languages and interpretations, and always code-switching⁷, which can be exhausting. It also means self-care just as much as it means the continuation of action. It means grace as much as it means pursuit, passion, and perseverance.

I think the biggest way to navigate this is to always strive to be yourself—not the best version of yourself, but just yourself. Normally, for most people on this planet, being themselves means being a pretty good person because your true self hasn’t necessarily been co-opted by different narratives—whether by MAGA or petromasculine ideas of what a powerful or strong young man should look like.

I think a lot of the co-opting of narratives has changed people to be not themselves, to be bad versions of themselves. Striving to be myself every day is enough—not even the best version, because there can always be a better one.

Learning from the elders can be tricky, but I try to learn from them and then respect the way I share that knowledge with the “youngers” as an intergenerational bridge. Being a bridge—or a bridge builder—is really important. It helps you weave intergenerational perspectives that are grounded in wisdom and healthy movements forward.

With the Wisdom Keepers Delegation⁸ at COP29 in Baku, we were able to be intergenerational bridge builders and weave ancient forms of knowledge into new contemporary solutions for climate policy, advocacy, and ocean health. It was definitely a struggle, definitely difficult at times to code-switch and speak across generations. However, it's something you have to practice and always pursue because it’s more important now than ever before. We need intergenerational wisdom to inform our climate solutions. We need elders' wisdom. We need traditional ecological knowledge that elders have—in a way that can be implemented in contemporary media, contemporary climate solutions, tools to protect ocean health that use data and science, and that integrate new forms of science with ancient Indigenous forms of science to help reach a common goal.

Recognizing it is the beginning of being a “yelder”, although I’m definitely far from being able to speak on what that means to do successfully because I’m figuring it out every day. I’m learning a lot from the Indigenous leaders, from the Wisdom Keepers Delegation, and the Earth Elders—Indigenous leaders and folks like Mindahi Bastida, Grandmother Helene, Rutendo Ngara, Jacob Johns, and so many others who have passed down that knowledge and are actively in the process of co-creating something better. That’s what we’re doing—to hopefully rebirth a new Earth, but at least helping make our current Earth a little bit less f*cked up. That’s a good start.

Bodhi listening in at the COP29, in the Oceans Pavilion.

INL: How can we better integrate traditional ecological wisdom with emerging technology to drive ocean protection and restoration?

Bodhi: There are some really powerful emerging tools that use new forms of intelligence, like AI (not ancient intelligence, but artificial intelligence) to help with ocean data, monitoring, and research. The Ocean Justice AI tool by Black and Marine Science is something I've been using in my studies and in my consulting work with Inner Light, the ocean consulting agency that I run as a student, and will continue to expand after graduation in six months. So, yeah, Ocean Justice AI is a great tool. I also recommend a lot of educational climate and ocean learning tools online that help spread ancient wisdom in contemporary ways. You can think of traditional learning tools on climate, education, and the environment like Climatebase, Green Jobs Board, and Terra.do. Then, you can think of different contemporary solutions around Indigenous wisdom—Advaya does a really good course on water and ancient wisdom. There are a lot of ways you can access learning from ancient wisdom, including on Instagram through the Wisdom Keepers account and also the Wisdom Keepers or Wisdom Delegation accounts that constantly share media I'm involved in.

I think the use of technology to share Indigenous wisdom is a two-edged sword. On one side of the sword, it can cut really deep into communities and hurt or damage through co-opting or taking knowledge and using it in a way that mainstreams it out of context. We see that a lot with the misuse of plant medicine and the misuse of different traditional ecological knowledge practices or stories that are taken out of context.

So that's one sharp side of the sword. The other side can really help create solutions, take down a lot of harmful systems, and solve problems because it's based on reverence and respect for nature. It's based on the notion of Indigenous intellectual property—Indigenous people having the ability to manage and actively shape the narrative about them around the world. Historically, Indigenous communities have been written about by colonizers, shaping Western media and beliefs, when in reality, those communities and cultures have rich stories to tell themselves. Sharing and respecting those cultures will help us advance some of the climate tools.

Indigenous wisdom and traditional ecological knowledge are not obsolete. In fact, they are the most relevant forms of knowledge and scientific study we must draw from to inform new tools. They teach us the basic values of dignity, respect, care, and compassion—values we're supposed to learn in kindergarten. As a society, we have to relearn these basics: treat your neighbor as you want to be treated, and don’t steal other people’s things and ideas.

Indigenous wisdom and traditional ecological knowledge are not obsolete. In fact, they are the most relevant forms of knowledge and scientific study we must draw from to inform new tools.

In the case of Indigenous communities, a lot of Western media outlets constantly steal ideas, reshape them, or change the terminology and co-opt them, even though they originate from rich cultures with much more meaningful stories than an Instagram post or TikTok.

Going back to kindergarten values, the biggest one is building a sense of community—communities based on mutual care for others. We really have to do that. So, even though it's a double-edged sword, we know which side we can cut with. We can address the bad and uplift the good.

Using ancient wisdom to help ocean solutions is really relevant now. There are great examples where we can use AI to unlock future insights. We can use AI to monitor fish better, like On Deck Fisheries is doing at the basement of my school, where I'm actively involved. We can use AI and different contemporary media tools to build ocean communities, like Ocean Uprise is doing with their virtual educational platform and master class series.

There are hundreds, if not thousands of organizations using new technology for the ocean, but a much smaller percentage—maybe one to five percent—are actually using Indigenous practices. We can invest more in Indigenous research centers, like the Center for Indigenous Fisheries at the University of British Columbia. We can support a lot more Indigenous research practices and methodologies and have a stronger investment in Indigenous peoples using data, AI, and software development. This helps ensure algorithms aren't biased, racist, or trained only on white data—for example, human detection software that only recognizes white faces.

So, basically, we have to relearn our kindergarten values and respect DEI, even though it’s been banned in the US, which is the dumbest thing ever. We need to make sure everyone has an equal playing field, especially when it comes to ocean justice.

That all ties back to ocean justice because Indigenous ocean finance and investing in ocean communities is really all about justice—making sure that those who have been most harmed receive the most funding, resources, support, and technological capacity. Oftentimes, people cite the lack of investment in communities as a reason for their struggles, but we need to change that narrative.

So, let’s go back to kindergarten, relearn our values, invest in the right ways, and support ocean justice and equitable data for AI—shaping and using ancient intelligence for a better ocean.

INL: How would you envision a world where humanity maintains a regenerative relationship with its oceans? Describe what that looks like, and how that would feel.

Bodhi: A regenerative ocean is an ocean where all animals, sea creatures, tiny pieces of bacteria, and phytoplankton that provide the oxygen we breathe, to the biggest fertilizers—like phytoplankton and creatures in the ocean, the great blue whale—are respected, protected, and have rights. A regenerative ocean is an ocean where we put back more than we take, where we leave things better than we found them.

One of the things my ancestors and teachers have always taught me, because they're samurai masters and my grandpa comes from a background of karate and my mom is a karate world champion, and I’ve learned a lot of martial arts, including Iaido (Japanese ancient swordsmanship), and the essence of being a samurai is that you leave things better than you found them, and you always give everything—put it all on the line. I think we have to be bolder and think in more systemic ways if we want to help with a regenerative ocean.

A regenerative blue economy is possible when we start to revalue our natural assets—our blue natural capital that we all share. When we start to understand that the tragedy of the commons doesn't have to be a tragedy anymore. The billionaires of the world have the opportunity to invest in the commons and support these commons because of the pressure people put on them, because of movements being wielded for good. Even if we can't depend on the billionaire class or the rise of conservatism to help our economy and our nature-based economy, we can build social movements and build social capital to protect ecosystems and create a regenerative or healed ocean.

To me, when I close my eyes and think about it—visualize what a healthy ocean or regenerative ocean looks like—it looks like one where communities along the coast of Aotearoa New Zealand and the West Coast, Coast Salish nations, and Vancouver Island, going and doing their traditional fishing practices. It looks like sharing stories on new technologies and platforms that support regenerative fishing or non-destructive fishing methods to grow. It looks like seaweed farms. It looks like coral gardens in the Pacific that are helping to heal and bring back thermally resilient coral. It looks like whale migration routes and pathways, and the rights of whales being recognized in addition to their economic valuation.

A regenerative ocean is something that is possible. And although we're far, far away from it, it's something that I will dedicate every day of my life to working towards. In the simplest of terms, in the clearest ways, a regenerative ocean is an ocean that we can all be proud of—an ocean that helps to create a regenerative or healed society. The ocean holds some of the secrets, in the deep waters and in the coastal shallows, to healing our relationship with ourselves and each other.

Just like when you go underwater and everything changes—you feel this sense of calmness and stillness, or excitement and sometimes unease when you're swimming with big pelagic species, sharks, and whales—it’s really special to have that feeling. Because that is something that makes you want to steward, to give back, to protect.

We must protect what is us. Because we are the ocean.

And of course, we've all heard: you only protect what you love, and you only love what you know, and you only know what you get to experience. But we need to really hear more that: we must protect what is us. Because we are the ocean. We're all a drop of the ocean and the ocean in a drop. I think that is something that can define our relationship to a regenerative ocean, a regenerative economy, a regenerative ocean for coastal communities, or a regenerative ocean for shipping. It doesn’t have to be just stopping all activities or the de-growth of the economy and society. We can advance forward by learning from the past—and we must.

The ocean offers that, because it's a time capsule that holds secrets from millions of years ago in the hydrothermal vents, in the deep sea ecosystems, and in the coastal caves and rifts that it created.

The ocean can heal us all. So let's work better towards healing her, because she needs all the help she can get. It’s time to really rise up for a more matriarchal, regenerative ocean world and economy, and end the notion of petromasculine that is shaping our ocean decision-making and economy. [This transformation] happens both on the ocean and on land. I think our underwater relatives and friends—all the fish that swim beneath us, all the whales that connect these migratory routes and islands together—are our ancestors. They inform Polynesian voyagers and are the greatest stewards of knowledge, culture, and bio-cultures. So let's listen to the fish. Let's be kinder. And let's help create a regenerative ocean, because that will help heal us all.

You can learn more about Bodhi Patil and his work here, and the Wisdom Keepers Delegation here. You can follow Bodhi on Instagram here, and LinkedIn here.

1. The so-called Era of Discovery (1500s to 1700s) refers to the period when European powers explored and colonized vast regions of the world. While often framed as a time of exploration and advancement, it also marked the beginning of widespread colonization, exploitation, and the displacement of Indigenous peoples. The term overlooks the fact that many lands and oceans were already known and navigated by Indigenous communities long before European contact.

2. Pacific Island voyagers represent communities with deep ancestral knowledge of ocean navigation and marine stewardship. Their inclusion in such meetings acknowledges the importance of Indigenous expertise in addressing marine conservation, climate resilience, and sustainable resource management. These voyagers carry the legacy of generations who have maintained harmonious relationships with the ocean, offering invaluable perspectives on environmental governance.

3. The Climate Clock is a public tool that counts down the time left to limit global warming to 1.5°C, emphasizing the urgency of climate action. Find it here.

4. A regenerative blue economy restores ocean health while driving economic growth through sustainable fisheries, renewable marine energy, and ecosystem-based industries that benefit both communities and the environment.

5. New Perspectives on the Ocean Economy of the Mid-Atlantic States pdf here

6. Funding Trends 2023: Tracking the State of Global Ocean Funding pdf here

7. Code-switching is the practice of alternating between two or more languages, dialects, or communication styles depending on the social context or audience.

8. The Wisdom Keepers Delegation is a group of Indigenous leaders and elders who share ancestral knowledge to address contemporary challenges, focusing on cultural preservation, environmental protection, and sustainable solutions.