Category: Uncategorized

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Two Songs and a Poem from Haiti

The aftershocks of death and collapse in Port-au-Prince have filled our hearts with the heaviness of what Haitian writer Edwidge Danticat calls the “layers of tragedy” – political and natural – that blanket the country. By now we have taken in the images of a grief stricken and devastated nation. We have heard about Haiti’s poverty and, hopefully, its history of exploitation by colonial powers (the root of that poverty).

I want to add to this outpouring some offerings of the life and vibrance of Haiti. Let our prayers be filled with the beauty Haiti has given the world from its “empty” coffers.

This song is ever so lovely, and this one conveys a bit of the Haitian experyans.

This poem is by the Haitian writer, Felix Morisseau-Leroy. Women’s Voices for Change writes, “read now, the poem stands as a caution to those who might try to generalize about those whose lives have been upended by the earthquake.”

Boat People

We are all in a drowning boat
Happened before at St. Domingue
We are the ones called boat people

We all died long ago
What else can frighten us
?
Let them call us boat people

We fight a long time with poverty
On our islands, the sea, everywhere
We never say we are not boat people

In Africa they chased us with dogs
Chained our feet, piled us on
Who then called us boat people?

Half the cargo perished
The rest sold at Bossal Market
It’s them who call us boat people

We stamp our feet down, the earth shakes
Up to Louisiana, down to Venezuela
Who would come and call us boat people?

A bad season in our country
The hungry dog eats thorns
They didn’t call us boat people yet

We looked for jobs and freedom
And they piled us on again: Cargo—Direct to Miami
They start to call us boat people

We run from the rain at Fort Dimanche
But land in the river at the Krome
Detention Center
It’s them who call us boat people

Miami heat eats away our hearts
Chicago cold explodes our stomach
Boat people boat people boat people

Except for the Indians—
What American didn’t get here somehow
But they only want to call us boat people

We don’t bring drugs in our bags
But courage and strength to work
Boat people—Yes, that’s all right, boat people

We don’t come to make trouble
We come with all respect
It’s them who call us boat people

We have no need to yell or scream
But all boat people are equal, the same
All boat people are boat people

One day we’ll stand up, put down our feet
As we did at St. Domingue
They’ll know who these boat people really are

That day, be it Christopher Columbus
Or Henry Kissinger—
They will know
us
We who simply call ourselves
People

::

Still with me? Feeling political? Check out this list of

ten things the U.S. can and should do for Haiti.

And Thank You Dr. Martin Luther King! May we ever and always strive to fulfill your vision.

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Evening Walk

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We take the slow route up the ridge

through the sparse clumps of dried grass, over rocks rouged by twilight.

At the top, instead of continuing on, looping down and around

in constant motion as if this were the only way

to ensure the next moment’s arrival,

we pause.

Stillness so seldom left to ripen on its branch

and fall of its own free will.

We sit on the bare spine of earth,

coyotes singing yip yi yi yi yiiii

as the horizon rises towards night.

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Recipe for Mid-Winter Tea

Mix what you have, what warms your spirit,

what feels true to the season.

I had:

Rosehips

Elderberries

Orange peel

Cinnamon

Calendula flowers

Pine needles

Mmmm.

A Proper Tea is much nicer than a Very Nearly Tea, which is one you forget about afterwards.  ~A.A. Milne

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Whoa

So here’s what I’ve been wondering:

If I’ve always taken for granted

that disposable plastic is necessary for life

and am now discovering that this isn’t the case at all,

what else have I believed

that isn’t true?

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Drying Out

There are days when I wonder why we even bother trying to live in a way that produces less waste. Does it really matter, I sometimes ask myself, if I don’t buy the bag of chips or the new hair clip or whatever else it is I want so badly? Almost everything in our culture – from the aisles lined with spiffily packaged food to the promise of the American Dream – tells me that the answer is no. In fact, there are days when not buying my kid crackers seems downright ridiculous.

But more and more, what’s absurd isn’t my cart of rye flour and raisins in muslin bags. What’s absurd are those bursting aisles of boxes and bags and cans and jars that seem less like a source of sustenance and more like a clean and well lit landfill. I don’t see the food anymore, just the waste.

The rushing river of consumerism moves so quickly, with so much force, that when we are caught in it, it is almost impossible to tell how carried away we’ve become. Without making this commitment to living without plastic for even a few months, it would have been close to impossible for me to sit on the banks, watching all the cool stuff get swept by.

I feel, sometimes, like one of the addicts I used to nurse at the hospital. Just as I start drying out from that rushing river you might call Modern Consumer Culture, I start asking what’s one small hit/bag of chips going to do? I’m ready to jump back into the current, to get swept away again.

Because of that vow, I am discovering ways to drown out the all-pervasive voice of culture and advertising and a whole lifetime of pretty much getting what I want. And I look at that bag of chips and ask two new questions: How was the earth harmed to make this? How will the earth be harmed when I throw it away?

I can’t always articulate an answer, but the gist of it steers me back to the bulk food aisle, or home to do some knitting, or for a walk on the land. Like any addict, I sometimes ask the higher power for help. The moment passes. And I feel relieved to be sitting out the deluge, drying out little by little.

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One Small Change

One of the best parts about blogging about our journey to simple, plastic free living has been the conversation it creates among our community, both here in Santa Fe and online, about living with more ecological consciousness. It’s like a great big web of mutual inspiration, with everyone’s passion and knowledge getting fed and activated and potentized by everyone else’s. What started out as a somewhat lonely, symbolic action has become one of the most positive, community building experiences of my life. Which feels much, much cozier.

And now there is a wonderful project in the works inviting folks like you and me to make one small change per month until Earth Day (April 22). Hip Mountain Mama had the idea, and you can learn more and see what participants are up to at her blog. What I love about One Small Change (the project’s official name) is the way it inspires each of us to tap into our personal genius and hearts for the small (or large!) change that we most want to implement in our lives. And frankly, it’s the healthy sort of peer pressure we could all use more of.

So far folks are doing all sorts of different things. Some are hanging clothes on the line to dry. Some are educating their children about frugality and conservation. Some are bringing cloth bags to the store, or joining a CSA. Some are switching to cloth diapers or taking the time to walk instead of drive on one errand per week. One Small Change challenges us to find the action that is personal, possible, and powerful, and to do it. It doesn’t matter what it is we do, just that we do something. That is, a little more than we already are.

So along with the big changes we’ve got brewing over here, I’ll be making just one more small (and quite delightful) change. More on that tomorrow. In case you are as susceptible to the collective momentum of this concept as I was, please do share your own small change. I love to see the way they all add up to a really big one.

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Hello, Goodbye: Getting Ready for Life After Plastic

This well-loved and sun bleached trike was dropped off by a friend a month or so ago, and we so appreciate the timing. If it had been offered in the new year, we wouldn’t have been able to accept. That’s the terms of the plastic fast (January 1-May 1) we’ve committed to: Love what you got, make do without what you don’t. We’ve been getting ready to live by this motto for several months now, not so much stocking up (see exceptions below) as learning how to live without the things we once thought were so essential. In the process, we’ve been saying hello to some new products and goodbye to others. In no particular order, the things on my mind these final days are:

Hello:

:: Hello Glue in a can. I love making small books and collages, and burn through glue sticks like nobody’s business.

:: Hello chevre, yogurt, and sour cream cultures. I ordered them from here, and am stocking up as they unfortunately come in tiny plastic bags.

:: Hello mineral pigments in metal tins. Goodbye liquid makeup in a tube.

:: Hello water activated paper tape. Yep, there are times when string just won’t do the job.

:: Hello Compressed natural cellulose sponges. I’d love a Skoy cloth or two, but rags will have to do.

:: Hello fruit juice sweetened ketchup, the only one I can find in a glass jar. It’s good for us, right?

:: Hello cloth baby wipes. A solution of 2 tbsp baby oil, 2 tbsp baby shampoo, and a cup of water make cleaning bums a breeze. I also stack a few to the needed thickness for menstrual pads. We’ve been using cloth diapers since our daughter was born, but not always at night. So bye, bye disposables.

:: Hello renewed sense of right livelihood and balance.

Goodbye:

:: So long, Braggs, beloved condiment that has been with me all my days. I still can’t figure out what you actually are, but I’m forsaking you for tamari from the bulk section of the co-op.

:: Goodbye, condoms. At a mining museum I once saw old tins that held one reusable, animal gut “shield.” As far as I know, nothing like that is available today (or actually effective). Instead we’ll continue using Fertility Awareness (which has worked for us for ten years), and hoard our little stash of latex for fertile day emergencies.

:: Bye, bye, Monterey Jack. We can buy bulk cheddar and baby swiss (and bring it home in a tiffin), but no jack. I’ve been making lot’s of simple soft cheeses and appreciate the way they’ve expanded my culinary world, but this is a favorite, and we’ll miss it.

:: Farewell, contact lenses and associated waste. Hello glasses! (Not me, him.)

:: Adios, cheap underwear and socks from big box stores.

:: So long, canned tomatoes and coconut milk. I’ll keep writing letters to your manufacturers asking them to package you in glass, but until, then, be well.

:: Good riddance, Ebay.

:: Bye for now, snack food for kiddos. Okay, I’ll confess, I bought C. a giant bag (no cardboard) of O’s, but have stashed them in a jar for emergencies.

:: And a fond farewell to feelings of guilt and powerlessness. Thank you for propelling us to make these changes!

::

If the things on these lists seem, well, minor, they are (but let’s talk again in February, shall we?) That’s what I’ve learned during these months of weaning off plastic – we don’t actually need (much of) it. Some exceptions that my pragmatic side asks me to acknowledge our need for are:

:: The occasional plastic cap on milk bottles and the like. Before buying plastic parts I’ll try to go without, or make my own (mayo and toothpowder, for example). We’ll be saving all plastic that makes it’s way into our home, maybe for a fabulous art project if that glue turns out to be worth a dime.

:: Motor oil. Our cars are old, efficient, and kept alive by regular transfusions of oil. But we’ll try to keep it to a minimum by driving as little as possible.

:: Cat food. I’m not planning to make Nippy give up wet food, though one friend pointed out that if I really cared I’d make it for her. I guess we all have our limits. I’m having trouble finding dry food in a paper bag not lined with plastic. Suggestions? As for cat litter, let’s just say Nippy will be spending more time outdoors.

For more on changes we’ve made to make trips to the grocery store plastic free (easily the biggest hurdle), read this post. The long-time plastic-free blogger Fake Plastic Fish has a much more comprehensive list of changes and alternatives here.

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Quiet Days of Simple Splendor

We go through days and seasons of busy-ness and calm, but this is the first year that I can say the holiday season is actually relaxing me. The old, familiar acts of honoring this time of cold and preparing for the soon-to-return light create a new framework for my days. They pull me away from the computer and back into a world rich with creativity and handmade works.

The tasks at hand? Creating an altar in honor of Winter; taking walks upon the frozen earth, cheeks red with cold; making beeswax ornaments to revive a bit of summer’s warmth (thanks to Gardenmama for the inspiration); crafting simple gifts from yarn and herbs, paper and paste; writing cards by hand to relatives and friends; cooking with the bountiful foods of winter, the turnips and beets, carrots and greens and leeks; making the spiced cookies my daughter’s great, great Grandmother brought with her from Russia.

All this and so much more bring a richness of purpose and creative fulfillment to these short, potent days before we gather with family, sharing love and small gifts and plentiful food. Sure, things will get wild at some point. But for now I’m heeding the call to be still. To turn away from the rush and towards the simple, thankful for a season that gives us so much to celebrate.

Have you seen the new e-magazine Rhythm of the Home? It is brimming with simple, beautiful ways to celebrate the winter. Consider it my gift to you!

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The Teachings of Guru Yo-yo

So, my girl taught me to say yo-yo, and the joy of it is so great I swear I’ll never say yogurt again. Turns out yo-yo has a few lessons of its own for this woman trying her hand at the old kitchen arts. It says, if you want to make me, remember:

::Sing often and loudly. This work is a celebration.

::Pay attention, to temperatures and tablespoons, but also to the rhythm of your breath, the sureness of your hand.

::When things come out differently than planned, remember that the unexpected is a generous detour, and not driving is another way of discovering new delights.

::Give way, give way. This isn’t the dairy aisle, Dorothy. Thin, thick, sour, sweet. None of it will go to waste if only you give way, give way.

Note from the humble yogurt making disciple: I used to think making yo-yo was as easy as cooking a pot of rice. Then came the time I now call The Month of the Funky Yo-yo. With each new batch I tried to reclaim my groove, tinkering with the starter, the incubators, adding rennet, and on an on. For my efforts I’d get something acceptable for adding to pancake batter. And I’m not picky! This week it just…worked. We are enjoying the loveliest, creamiest, thickest and sweetest goat milk yogurt imaginable. I am delighted to say that I have no idea why it worked this week and not the others (unless it had to do with my forgetting all about it and leaving it to incubate 11 hours instead of 8). It is alchemy and magic and my only advice is this: persist, don’t insist.