Evergreen and Dark Nights, Thank You

 

Floating fruit fairies,

A hanging wreath:

Many thanks to the forest for this winter harvest.

::

We slow our pace a bit to match the sun

(for solstice is from the latin sol, sun, and sistere, to stand still)

Staying in more than going out,

crafting rather than spending,

watching the sun rise and set each day.

At dinner we take a bit of a rest from the electric lights

and bring candles to the table.

A celebration in honor of this dark season, welcoming it at in our home,

but also a mini-eco sabbath, reducing our impact in a small,

immeasurably pleasurable way.

::

For slow footsteps on the frozen land, leading us back towards

this home filled with the warmth of sunlight and the smells of fir and pine.

For restful days and festive nights,

the fleeting sun and long span of dark cold

– I give thanks –

Powder Day

Up into the mountains

deep into the woods

Paying our respects to the spirit of Winter

and carrying a token of it home:

armfuls of white fir and doug fir, spruce and ponderosa

evergreen branches

scented with the land we love so well.

::

Oh yes we have something up our sleeve…

The Heart of Change

As leaders and delegates from 190 countries gather in Copenhagen to hopefully steer our world back into something like balance, I can’t help but bring this goal home to the individual heart. After all, creating a sustainable future means much more than just shifting our relationship to carbon. While I know how crucial the work being done on this political and economic level is, I also consider it the tip of the iceberg. Same goes for the plastic free experiment underway here at our house. As momentous as it sometimes feels, it is just a starting point. From there the layers begin to peel off, revealing the many ways in which this journey is first and foremost about heart. About learning to live mindfully, carefully, and gratefully. My father reminded me just how deep it is possible to go when he shared this with me yesterday:

“May your quest for a plastic free world unwrap itself and reveal its timeless recipe. There are many ways to keep things fresh in this world. One simple method that I’m learning is to bring myself to love the other the same as I love myself. The friction of such learning is causing the tight plastic cover that has enveloped me to soften and to begin dissolving itself.”

Many prayers that all those in Copenhagen, and all of us in our corners of the globe experiencing our share of the human experience learn, gently and surely, to do the same.

Hands

Forgoing the plastic wrapping that seems to blanket the earth these days has meant relying on our hands to provide the same basic foods and goods we only recently bought heavily packaged from the store. Lately my hands are my teachers, showing me all kinds of things I didn’t know I could do. Hands, in fact, seem to be the primary tool in a plastic free life. These days mine knead bread and stir pots, roll tortillas and express milk from goat udders, pick rosehips for tea, crochet scarf after scarf, and hang diapers on the line. If that sounds like Little House on the Prairie but with radiant heat floors and indoor plumbing, it is, and I love it.

I also like what Susan Lydon says of hand crafting in her book The Knitting Sutra:

“The sensation is almost impossible to describe (she writes),

as it occurs through the hands rather than the mind and is utterly nonverbal in nature,

but it feels as though invisible teachers were guiding your movements.

Perhaps it is not that at all but merely a connection to the collective unconscious

or a kind of ancestral memory common to us all …

you don’t know it’s there until you tap into it by accident,

with a particular motion of the hands, and then suddenly,

with an almost electric shock, the body remembers.”

What are you learning from your hands these days?

A Word of Thanks

To my daughter, first, as each day new words emerge

from that holy little mouth

half formed and persistent pieces of language.

In the moment before I recognize them

when in my denseness all I hear is babble,

they are stars falling, blossoms opening,

the horizon brightening before sunrise.

And then I “hear” her and we both lift from the ground.

::

Thanks also to you,

for sharing this space with me,

and for this conversation

about what it means to live well.

Toxic Plastic News Roundup

While I might sometimes question the benefit our decision to go plastic-free has on the planet’s health, there is no question that it is one of the most significant changes we can make to improve our own well-being. The growing mountain of evidence continues to show that despite its prevalence in our society, exposure to plastic isn’t always safe for us, and especially not for our children.

In November The Official Journal of the Society of Biological Psychiatry released a study linking phthalate exposure to ADHD in school age children.

Equally horrifying is this study by Environmental Health Perspectives that links prenatal BPA (Bisphenol-A) exposure to aggression in two year old girls.

For an article about how BPA has been shown to be present even in “BPA free” bottles, click here. I know we can’t escape the ubiquitousness of these chemicals, but it is upsetting to think that even when we think we are “safe” we probably aren’t.

Speaking of Bisphenol-A exposure, Treehugging Family reports on a study done by Consumer Reports showing how BPA leeches into many common canned foods, including organic ones.

So what is safe? I just can’t say anymore, especially after reading this icing on the cake piece about the migration of toxins from ordinary food packaging, like cheese.  The author of the study says, “even manufacturers of plastics do not know the full extent of chemicals that are present in their products.” So at least I know I’m not alone in my ignorance.

While BPA and phthalates are unavoidable completely, we can take a simple step to reduce our exposure to them: quit plastic. It will help keep your family healthy, and who knows, it might just help the planet, too.

Thanks to Life Without Plastic and Treehugging Family for leading me to these stories.

Just to be clear (b/c it’s not always obvious where the links are on this blog), the highlighted bold white words should take you to the studies I mention.

Introducing. . . Mamita

That’s the Little Mama on the right, offspring to the Grandmother who hails from a 1965 French kitchen. They’re red wine vinegar, potent and rich, filled with the flavors of decades of nurturing and countless glasses of leftover wine. Some friends gave Mamita to me most generously, the Grandmother brew passed down in their family through the generations.

Do you see that blobby bit popping up out of the vinegar in the little jar? That’s the Mother of Vinegar, which Wikipedia says is a “substance composed of a form of cellulose and acetic acid bacteria that develops on fermenting alcohol liquids,” and basically turns them to vinegar. Think of kombucha and you can imagine what the Mother looks like. In time, daughters grow and can take charge of their own vinegar.

I brought Mamita right home, gave her an honored position on the top shelf of the cupboard, and declared we had to have wine with dinner in honor of the newest member of our family. Of course I shared the leftovers with her, and she’s happily topped off.

I love having food in my kitchen so alive – so sentient! – that it demands a name. Take care of me, Mamita, and I’ll take care of you. For a long, long time.

1/20/10: Just found this very comprehensive post on making/maintaining vinegar. Enjoy!

Quality Storage

Well, call me a product of my times and culture, but nothing gets me excited about saving the world like cool gear. Specifically, I’d like a whole freezer filled with stainless tiffins like this one a friend brought me from India. I’ve also been coveting the glass storage containers for sale at my local co-op. As much as I’d like to stock my house with such things, I don’t really need them. And cutting back on plastic just to get lots of cool new “green” gear just doesn’t make sense to me.

Of course, a gal does occasionally need to satisfy her yen for New and Wonderful. While doing my Christmas shopping at the thrift store last week I treated myself to a small assortment of mismatched bowls of different sizes and vintages, all fitted with a carefully chosen plate-lid. Ta-da: our new very cute and eco (but not freezer or travel worthy) tupperware.

If you’re sure you can’t live without a freezer and travel worthy tiffin of your own, a local Indian food market would be a great place to look for affordable and authentic ones. If you’re stuck out on the mesa but have a few pennies to invest in your personal scheme to save the world and the economy (one cool gear item at a time), check out Life Without Plastic, where the high quality tiffins, glass containers, and much more will make you, too, want to swear off plastic forever.

Fierce Hope

We spent Thanksgiving with my folks at their house on the edge of the mountains. Watching my parents with their first grandchild, my daughter, made me hope with all the power in my body that my own grandchildren know a world as beautiful as the one we live in. And that they can look forward to sharing the ponderosas and magpies, the rivers and coyotes and the smell of sage with their descendants.

But all that fierce hope isn’t going to bring future about. Did you hear the news last week that climate change is “accelerating beyond expectation” while the percentage of Americans who believe global warming is happening has fallen from 80% to 72%? We can hope all we want that this situation gets turned around, but without personal action to feed that hope we can easily succumb to the dangerous side of hope: complacency.

Hoping that the UN or scientists or the president or environmentalists will do the right thing and steer humanity back into a sustainable balance, is, well, hopeless. We can’t just hope that a better day is coming. We’ve got to make sure that is does. It’s up to us to face the abyss (yep, it’s bleak out there), and then lift our hands to act anyways.

It’s up to us to reclaim our humanity, to do everything in our power and sometimes more to live in balance. We must choose, over and over and over, to be careful about what we buy and eat and throw away and even what we do, so that the least harm is inflicted on the planet. And then we can hope. Hope with our whole hearts that all that will make a difference.

If I’m lucky enough to meet my daughter’s children, or their children, I want to be able to tell them that I lived with them in mind. That I bled, sweat, and cried to change my unsustainable ways. I’ll tell them how my hope that all that work would pay off was what got me out of bed each day, looking for the simplest, most effective and heartfelt solution I could find to the daunting task at hand.

For suggestions on small and large things you might invest your hope in click here.

Praise

The broken pot, the burnt meal,

the family gathered, the family scattered.

Praise the hunger and praise the bounty

Praise the crooked trail that gets you there

or nowhere.

Praise the anger and the hope,

the beauty and the fear.

Praise the hands lifted and able.

Praise the call to live this good life

gratefully, carefully,

wakefully.