Still Useful, How Many Do I Need, and As Is

July 10, 2019
Wednesday, 11:36 am
Rogue Valley Roasting Co. 
Ashland, OR
Patio, partly sunny and 78 degrees

(Photo is from later in the afternoon, and has nothing to do with the "how many do I need" portion of the essay's title :))

Yesterday, in the process of organizing after our trip to Houston two weeks ago and our trip to the Smith River and camping this past weekend, I had brief moments of clarity. It's similar to what happens when I'm driving. The focus on something else, and the movement somehow, seem to distract me from myself and a gap opens and I notice some particularly clear thoughts arising. If I could have a running recorder at my side at all times I might have a trove of useful thoughts and realizations to fall back on. Absent said recorder, and not wanting to forget, I hastily jotted a couple notes on the nearest scratch paper.

The first note: Still Useful.

I have a problem—or maybe it's less of a problem and more of a solution, somehow, that has been dogging me for years in the “What Am I To Do?” department?—with throwing out things that still have use left in them. If it still exists? Then, I believe, it still has use that can be wrung out of it and appreciated. This also applies to people, I think as I write. If I can't find a home for something, I usually keep it until I can find a home for it. But this practice admittedly eats up a lot of my time and energy.

Reflecting on my note this morning, I thought about my resistance to throwing things away (though I've never been perfect at this, and still have a lot to learn and a long way to go), and wondered if it might've been born back in the days when my dad would let me help “drive” us to the dump. That is what we called it then. The Dump. Versus the more polite and-let's-not-think-about-what-we-are-really-doing “landfill” (filling the land?) and “transfer station” (transfer to where?) of our current nomenclature. While my dad raked out the back of the truck, I was free (sorry Mom) to poke around the garbage below and see what others had deemed No Longer Useful. I was surprised at what people would throw away, but figured I was just too young to understand why people did it. I was surprised years later, but wasn't as afraid to question why, when I met Bruce's dad, who supported his family for many years as a sanitation worker, at the many things he had salvaged from “the dump” that others had deemed No Longer Useful.

Perhaps it was these experiences that lead, years later, to my idea of opening a Free Store, an idea I've never yet actually pursued but which has nevertheless dogged me for years. I even had an actual dream about a Re-Store a few years ago but then Habitat for Humanity took that idea! We do have the Free Box at our local recycling center, but you can only drop clothes and shoes. And now it's only one day a week. Where can I take the rest of my shitstuff that's still useful? I thought about it all again the past two days, and how I want to blog, to communicate, and how I would love to sit there and write daily about the things I see that are . . . Still Useful.

But I also want to write about everything else. Instead of a blog and/or website dedicated solely to climate change, a necessary focus and one which I focused on for many hours earlier this year, I realized I need to be writing about whatever comes up that moves me. Maybe I do have Attention Deficit Disorder. And maybe that's not a bad thing. 

While walking here today, and thinking about traditional newspapers, it occurred to me that most people probably wouldn't want to open to just one topic. They want to read about a variety of things. Like Yes! Magazine for example, which was co-founded by Sarah van Gelder. I really enjoyed reading more of her book The Revolution Where You Live last night.

I think it's my favorite chapter so far. “The Detroiters Who Are Redefining Prosperity.” I was especially inspired by the story of Grace Lee and Jimmy Boggs.

No single venture alone was transformative, but together, they showed that people working creatively and persistently, against powerful odds, were creating the city and the world they wanted to live in.

This broad-based leadership—the willingness to step up and make change, and to make it celebratory change—is, in no small part, a result of the influence of James and Grace Lee Boggs. . . . The two of them engaged the city's African American community in a deep reflection on the state of the world, the character of the times, and the most effective ways of making change. Their insistence that we not only resist harmful institutions and practices but also envision and build the world we want has influenced generations of leaders.

Van Gelder says that any trip she takes to Detroit includes a stop at the Boggs Center, which carries on the tradition of deep conversations and working for change.

Yesterday's second note on a write topic: How Many Do I Need? Of Anything? Pencils, pens, scissors, plastic bottles, first-aid stuff, recipes and cookbooks, hair clips and bobby pins, mini lotion bottles, stuff bags, eyeglass cases . . . the list goes on and on and on; these were just the things I happened to be dealing with in my immediate sphere.

As I mentioned last week, one of the things I really enjoyed about our trip to Houston was that I had only one carry-on "stuff"  bag and my one "personal item" laptop backpack (which had my purse inside). I had only what I needed (mostly) and I knew exactly where it was. But at home? I've been working on it, even more than usual the past few months, but we still have so much. For example, I had been looking for 3.4 ounce plastic bottles (why did the TSA not just pick an even number, such as two ounces or four ounces?) for our trip to Houston. Yesterday I found some in the car backpack. Bruce recently bought a new pack of razors, but there's a whole bunch of new razors in the bathroom bin in the hall closet. We do it all the time. We already have it, but don't know where it is so we buy more (and end up creating more and more waste along the way).

Yeah, I know I've been going roundy round about this for a long while. But it takes a long long time to simplify your life after complicating it with so much stuff. It seems that this one thing, more than any other aside from child-rearing, has taken up the bulk of my life's energy. Dealing with my stuff. First trying to acquire it, and then all the energy taking care of it, and then the energy involved in deciding when, where, and how to part with it. And that's a sad sad statement on my life right there. To date anyway.

Lying in bed last night, hoping I'm not dying and that all this increased sorting and organizing this year isn't some weird pre-death nesting instinct, I vowed to myself that I need to live another 54.5 years so that I can make the second half of my life more what I would have wanted the first half to be about. People and relationships and taking care of each other, and doing my best to make a positive impact on this earth we share.

Just had a lovely chat with Riley's friend Nate. He is struggling a bit right now with being back in town and trying to meet people. He invited me to an event he got going, Cribbage for a Cause, here at the Roasting Co next Friday. I hope to make it. After we talked, and I entered the above passage from van Gelder's book about deep conversations, I thought about how it might be nice, despite our difference in ages, to work with him somehow to create more community here. He did say that he wanted his thing to be non-political. The first Cribbage for a Cause is to support the animal shelter. He figures if you don't like pets you shouldn't be here. But if he did Cribbage for Dems then that wouldn't appeal to Bob who is a Republican. And I agree. I do like specific causes, like paying attention to the climate crisis, or the current border crisis, but I also feel we really need to work to build community, where we live, that welcomes all viewpoints (to a degree that remains respectful) so that we begin to see how truly connected we all are, opening the way for us to then come together to work on the issues that affect us all, regardless of political viewpoints and affiliations. I'm often reminded, as I've noted numerous times before, of what Julia Butterfly Hill said when she was here so many years ago, something to the effect of: you have to make change fun. I thought the same when I read last night, and then highlighted above, the words Celebratory Change.

That was another thing I enjoyed reading last night, about Growing Power, an urban farm, food stand, and youth training center in Chicago [nts: check it out online and maybe in person].Van Gelder ties up the chapter by saying, “Food does much more than nourish our bodies. It connects us to our families—children who eat with their family regularly do better on all sorts of measures. It is at the center of celebrations and cultural events, so it connects us to our identity. And food connects us to place, to the soil and waters of where we live.”

I'd like to take the time here to type out some of the other things I've found especially inspiring or meaningful in this book so far, as I feel it is helping me clarify my own way forward.

In Danny Glover's forward to SvG's book, he shares a timely quote from a speech MLK Jr gave in April 1967:

We are now faced with the fact that tomorrow is today. We are confronted with the fierce urgency of now. In this unfolding conundrum of life and history there is such a thing as being too late [I hope this doesn't apply to my stated hope of living another 54.5 years]. Procrastination is still the thief of time. Life often leaves us standing bare, naked and dejected with a lost opportunity. . . . This may well be mankind's last chance to choose between chaos or community.

In SvG's prologue:

• I especially wanted to find out if the places at the margins of society might have answers, and if those answers were early signs of a new society.
• The climate crisis is jeopardizing our future, and opportunistic politicians are whipping up racism and hate to win over voters angry about being locked out of the prosperity that others seem to enjoy.
• In difficult times, strong-man leaders often arise who offer an outlet for anger, and fear disguises as nationalism.

From the chapter “We the People Love This Place.”

• At the root of these issues, I think, is a system of beliefs and a power structure that allow big corporations and their enablers in government to extract wealth from our natural world and our communities.
• To tolerate this, we learn to numb ourselves, binge watching television series, taking drugs, or overeating. We separate ourselves emotionally from our communities, from the natural world, even from ourselves. Schools teach us this, as does advertising.
• We learn to leave family or community to chase down a better job, to leave our children in sterile child-care centers because we have to earn a few dollars working a low-wage job. We learn form watching nonstop images of violence in the media that other people are not trustworthy.
• And we learn to use stuff to fill the hole left by isolation and to disassociate from our deepest values.
• I'm not sure why we allow all this. I think it must be because we are exhausted by trying to get by—many people are deep in debt and work multiple jobs to pay the rent. And we are mesmerized by corporate media. And we are isolated.
• When we lose our connections to each other, we lose our power.
• Akaya wasn't about to answer these questions. Instead, she asked another question. “If the universe could deploy the one small person that is you, what would it have you do?”
• What I said next surprised me as much as it surprised her, “I'd go out traveling and see for myself.”
• I would avoid the power centers on the two coasts, and the progressive enclaves, visit places I don't usually go, and learn what people care about and what they are doing about it.
• As I prepared for my travels, I honed the questions I would be asking on my trip, and I narrowed them to these three: Is anti-racism work best done in communities? Climate change: Is local activism the way to both stop the extraction and transition to a sustainable future? Can we build a new economy, rooted in our communities, that can support us and protect the natural world? [I wrote in the margins, “Gives me goosebumps,” and, “What would my questions be?”]
• I named the truck Caracol (“snail shell” in Spanish), because I would be carrying my home on my back. The snail also represented slow journalism [which I highlighted]. I would slow down enough to be with people and hear their story on their terms, and let them tell me what was important to them. [Reminds me of what I envisioned on my train trip with Nancy. I just got so into listening that I didn't do much documenting!]
• The people whose strategies were most powerful—that energized people and resulted in real change—do some combination of the following [abbreviated]:
  • They build bridges among people who have been separated.
  • They reconnect to their ecological home.
  • They rebuild the economy.
  • They take power.
  • They carve out spaces for healing, creativity, and spirit.
• Those who are most effective distance themselves from the consumptive mindset that is part of corporate media.

From the chapter “Resisting the Otter Creek Mine.”

• “I'm a grandmother, and I'm going to be a great-grandmother soon. What would I tell my grandkids if they said, 'Grandma, what did you do to stop this? What did you do to help save our water and our land and our air' They might ask me that, and I'll be able to say, 'Here are the records and the articles. Here—I spoke up for you.'”
• [I entered a quote in the margin: “Only when it's dark enough can you see the stars.” MLK Jr.]
• “We're all in the same battle; we're all looking at a holocaust if we don't stand up.”

From the chapter “No Fracking Way Turtle Mountain.”

[NTS: check out Cedar Gillette's “No Fracking Way Turtle Mountain” Facebook page]

• where she posts not only about her reservation but also about others around the world resisting fossil fuel extraction.

• When people have a chance to study, discuss, and decide on options, they favor this sustainable path.

From the New Era Windows [a worker owed manufacturing cooperative] chapter.

• “It's kind of fun, because at the end of the day it's for the benefit of everyone.”

• New Era's worker-ownership model offers something else: it's based on “enough.”
• This cooperative has created a model for abundance and shared prosperity.
• [I wrote in margin: “Enough! A good title or name ...”]

Back to the chapter on Detroit:

• Incite Focus, a fabrication laboratory (fab lab). Its goals are . . . to “work and spend less, create and connect more.”
• Incite Focus is also designing and building net zero-energy homes that produce their own solar energy and grow their own food, and the group hopes to cluster eight to ten of them into intentional communities.
• The aim of the lab is more about channeling creativity and about learning how to meet your needs and those of family and friends. Making you less reliant on a job frees up time and the psychic space to create the sort of life—and the sort of world—that works for you and your neighbors.

I appreciated the bit in this chapter about the Avalon Bakery. “When they first opened, they were advised to keep windows small and covered with bars because of the area's high crime rate. They did the opposite. The bakery has enormous windows that reach nearly to the high ceilings, inside and outside tables, and an entrance that invites all comers.” Reading this reminded me of Sugar Mill on Tortola, and their open bar and gift shop, where you just needed to write down what you had taken. I've long wanted to include that in a write about trusting vs fearing...

2:52 pm

Still on the patio, and after reading back through I'm wondering if this entry is something I could actually post. It is my favorite sort of writing--and a nod to another idea I've had for a book or blog: As Is. And I did overhear a woman say earlier that writers shouldn't worry if they are writing the right thing or the right way, they should just be themselves and write. I've wondered all this before but then I went and spent so much time trying to edit that I had to move on and never posted. Multiple times x many times. Plus, and anyway, I need to have a blog that I've created. Of course, I do have one over at blogspot (what is it again?), but I'd rather have a website that I use. Or? Whatever the current “best” way is and all. Jeez. And so my ADD kicks in and I decide that I'll distract myself with checking out Growing Power online, and that No Fracking Way page on FB. And then I'll probably get lost again and have to leave in a couple hours and that'll be that till this time next week (hopefully at least that) forgetting everything I'd gotten clear about up to this point this week.

Update on Growing Power. According to a great piece at Civil Eats, the original location in Milwaukee, started by Will Allen in 1993, went out of business in 2017 after inspiring many in the food justice and urban farming movements here and abroad. Later that same year, his daughter Erika, who was running the Chicago location, joined with Laurell Sims and renamed the entity Urban Growers Collective and are now focused more on food access (employing re-purposed city buses in the Fresh Moves Mobile Market food delivery program) and training.

One thing I love about Allen's approach was his emphasis on composting. “It's all about the soil.” I don't know what the percentages are, but we throw away far too much that, instead of contributing to greenhouse gasses, could be turned, in a closed-loop system, into soil to grow food.

Just did an internet search—“composting and closed-loop systems”—and returned this piece from Green Biz that was published this past February. In addition to learning how sexy composting can be, I found the data I was looking for just a few minutes ago: “A 2014 estimate by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency reports that 38.4 million tons of food scraps are generated in the United States each year, with only 5.1 percent recovered and recycled.”

Nuff said. Post this shit, says me to myself. You want to communicate and connect? Then communicate and connect! You can worry, if you must, about editing another day. (Or year, as I just noticed, egad, that I put the “e” before “i” in my “Finding My Lost Yoda” essay back in 2016.)