On care

To continue my series "On ____," I've decided to pick the idea that's been preoccupying my mind as of late: Care. A thing.

It's like I can't decide if "care" is a resource or not. I feel like it isn't, because I can care about a lot all at once: my friends, my roommate, strangers, the whole world, the environment, Beyonce-- you name it, I can care about it.

I feel like I care a lot, and freely. Care is inexhaustible right? But then, sometimes, why can't I help but feel, exhausted?

I had to sit and think on this. Talk to some people. Read some things. I honestly think care is awesome and lovely, and creates the world. If there was no care, there would be nothing. At least nothing to care about: no societies, no language, no cathedrals or art. What'd be the point? We have it programmed in us to care, and it's not a resource to dole out one slice at a time. That type of behavior stems from fear, so I feel like I've come to my conclusion. We should care freely and beautifully. Care as much as possible, because people like it! People like care, love it even, and there can't be too much passed around! Go forth, to love and to serve, says the Bible. Basically, go forth and care.

But then, I've forgotten why I brought the question up at all. Why am I exhausted? Why does caring take so much energy? I sat back and thought, "Well, because people don't seem to care!" BAH! This is awful.

I got here because a lot of what I do is ask people to care. Will you care about the air and sign this petition? Will you care about the ocean and give us $20 a month to protect it? Will you care about state parks and make this phone call? Some people say yes, but most people say no. But what are the No's all about? They make me sad and exhaust me. I find myself whining, "Why don't they just care?"

People care because it helps us survive as a species. To care for one another and our kids is innate. The disconnect lies in time. We're really good at, like most animals, recognizing imminent threats to our survival, like a fire or flood, or even the modern example of a pay cut at work. We reassess, re-budget, re-purpose ourselves to survive. But, not everything seems imminent, so that's where I place the disconnect in care. Time. My foe. My owner. My friend. My everything: Time. She makes care seem exhaustible, something to prioritize and place here or there, when we can spare it.

But NO! Don't let her fool you! When you wonder if you should care, care is not time, it's not even money. Zoom out and ask: will caring about this make absolutely anything better? If the answer is Yes, or even Maybe: go forth, and care.

almost a month later...

Wamp wamp.

Sacramento, California, 9/6/11

So I've decided that I'm going to start blogging again.

Excerpt from an email to Sharon Teal:

I can't believe it has only been a couple of weeks since I left Nashville.

First, I was in Boston for a week and a half training. We had a lot of briefings, role plays, and actions through the week. For example, someone would do a presentation on how to pitch stories to reporters so they'd come to an event, say a press conference. Then we'd break into small groups and practice calling each other so we'd solidify the idea. Other times they'd teach us something, like calling members to ask them to phone a senator to do so-and-so, and then we'd actual call members with a goal they'd set for us. We had an hour and a half and we had to call as many people as we could with the goal of getting 12 people to agree to call their senator and 4 volunteers to commit to helping at future events. Pretty simple.

Another thing we did was "canvassing." They taught us how, gave us a "rap" or speech basically, and then they pretty much just dropped me at the corner of a neighborhood with a map. My goal was to raise $150 to protect the Quabbin Resevoir in Massachusetts. I earned $680! The highest of all the group and they applauded me, which made me feel better about my blisters and dehydration.

Another thing we did was take metro into the city and collected signatures. The only neat thing about it was I got a cute boy to sign my petition and it turned into a coffee date, which turned into a dinner date, which turned into another dinner date, which really lead no where, but it was fun. :)

The last day of training they told me I was coming to California. I'm on an extended special mission. They even call it SWAT (Special Weekend Action Team, or something like that). SWATs usually only last a weekend, and they were created for those key moments before a particularly important vote when they need more people on the ground ringing doorbells, calling people or just straight-up lobbying politicians. So that's why I'm here, but it's extra SWAT-like because it's for 72 days. 69 now.

On November 2nd there will be a vote on many things, but I'm particularly concerned with Proposition 23. It's a ballot measure backed mainly by two Texas-based oil companies, Valero and Tesoro, that has been packaged as a jobs initiative. It would essentially roll-back California's premiere clean energy legislation until unemployment falls to or below 5.5% for 4 consecutive quarters (which hardly ever ever happens). It would stunt everything! And for what? Oil. Nice. So my job, after this stint in Sacramento (which is kind of like a staging area), will be to move onto some college campus (TBA) and rile them all up to vote NO on Prop 23.

This week though, about 8 of us have made about 300 cookies that have "23" with an anti- sign on it to pass out to legislators tomorrow. We made everything from scratch and used one conventional oven. It was insane. I've never been in a kitchen so hot. I have some funny pictures and a blister on my finger from stirring dough. We even made gobs of icing and decorated them ourselves. It's just one crazy thing to do to get visibility.


The other campaign the office is working on is to ban plastic bags in California. It's such a tight race I think I would literally get fired if I walked in the office with a plastic bag, for my boss's fear of the opposition (American Chemistry Council) gaining any leverage.

Everything is a whirlwind. I'm tired and hungry a lot and I have a cold, but I'm having an exciting new adventure! It'll all settle down when I'm in my own place. I'm staying with a co-worker and have been since Sunday. Things just aren't the same when you can't have you stuff in place, you know? That was awfully vague, but I'm living out of a suitcase on a pull-out couch. I think I'd just like to be able to leave my toiletries in the bathroom. I'm sure they wouldn't say anything if I did, but as a guest, I must consolidate and hope to be as invisible as possible (aside from my actual person), but you know what I mean. There's one bathroom for two adults, two guests, and one very adorable two year old, Oliver.

Well, I should be off to bed. We have a protest in the morning, followed by the grand cookie drop-off, and more prep for another visibility event on Friday.

Update on things that maybe someone cares about

I haven't even been here for a week and I'm already having trouble remembering Nashville summertime. There is so much to learn we're still training for 9, 10 hours a day, followed by socials that last into midnights, and there's little time to think about even what day it is.

I had a one-on-one talk with a trainer for placement on Sunday and she told me to think about going to California. I'll know for sure where I'll be sent by the end of the week.

I can't believe I'm moving on Sunday!

Somewhere, here I come!

Boston

First time here and it's a pretty rad city so far. Wide side walks that are well-lit, lots of nice people, and last night I met someone who designs shoes! Who designs shoes besides Steven Martin in Father of the Bride and the dad in Jumanji? A stranger, in Boston.

Training for my new fellowship with Environment America is one day down, nine to go. Ten hour days leads to a surplus of new ideas I want to research or talk out.

So far the most important thing I've learned is that every conversation with a stranger can lead to new and exciting opportunities. If I can be an open mind and open book, everything is available.

There is palpable potential here. Everyone is so willing to be open.

"After Years"

Today, from a distance, I saw you
walking away, and without a sound
the glittering face of a glacier
slid into the sea. An ancient oak
fell in the Cumberlands, holding only
a handful of leaves, and an old woman
scattering corn to her chickens looked up
for an instant. At the other side
of the galaxy, a star thirty-five times
the size of our own sun exploded
and vanished, leaving a small green spot
on the astronomer's retina
as he stood on the great open dome
of my heart with no one to tell.

Ted Kooser

"Kindness"

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you every where
like a shadow or a friend.

-Naomi Shihab Nye

"The Summer Day"

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

-Mary Oliver

Predicting the next 100 years

taken at the lake

(!!!) I have been hired by a Environment America to start in August. It's a big girl job in the big girl world, complete with a salary, paid-time-off, and a dress code. I'm stoked out of my mind, but I was thinking today that I've been hired to be a go-between. Go-betweens are great, but in our capitalistic society, they're phased out ASAP.

My broad-term job description is "environmental advocate." Buzzword: advocate.

Advocates are usually the good-guys, which is hopeful, but they inherently stand between two entities. Those two entities exist whether the advocate is there or not, like a child and a courtroom. Unfortunately for me, the advocate's existence depends directly and completely on the necessity of its existence. Interesting.

I am currently an unpaid advocate of the environment, mostly because I'm a student in environmental studies who likes to communicate. But soon, (i.e., August) the difference will be a definite rise in income and productivity. I will officially be a go-between. "People of the United States, ladies and gents we chose to make our decisions for us, meet the environment. You've know her all along, but this is what she does for you..."

It's all public relations really, because who's going to argue with me when I say, "If our planet isn't healthy, we aren't healthy"? Maybe a lot of folks, but not forever, especially since the American learning curve seems to be steepening. Steepening? Steepening.

Go-green ads aren't just for adults anymore. I became aware of this while watching TV the other night and when I came across the Disney Channel's greenery. Of course, I started looking things up online. Studies are showing that "Green Teens," or those teens most interested in environmental issues, are also more likely to be popular in school. With the Disney channel in all its celebrity saying what's up AND the added potential of becoming prom queen? What pre-teen isn't going to go green?

This is my evidence that my job is temporary. Hopefully.

I'm looking forward to the moment when environmental advocacy jobs are something of the past. I hope to goodness that my job becomes unnecessary and out of date sooner than later. Then, I will know my job is done. The neat thing is, I think it will happen in the next couple of decades. And in a hundred years I hope kids laugh at how silly an environmental advocacy job sounds. Why need a go-between when we can all do it ourselves?

My very own morning cup of links

syncretism

anxiety culture

"His heart is as open as the sky." -Tao Te Ching

If you like scrabble, maybe you'd like Bananagrams.

If you like trivia, maybe you'd like sporcle.

Cabinet, cabinet on the wall. Why do you exist?

I was walking around my apartment, thinking about things I don't use. I could very easily get along without cabinet doors. Are those for looks? I've walked through cabins in Rocky Mountain National Park that show visitors "how we used to live" and those cabins don't have cabinet doors. They have shelves.

So, hey, I'm 22. I've always had cabinet doors and never thought much more than, "Nice handles," or "Mm, I would've picked pewter." But I can do without cabinet doors, especially after I got home after class and my kitchen looked like a ghost was messing with me. All my cabinet doors were open due to my rushed morning, and I thought, "Why do I even have these things?" And why do I have a door on my pantry? It's perpetually open anyway, so I'm not sure why it's there.



But with my wonderful human ability to reason, I see how they'd be helpful if you have pets or small kids that like to "get into everything," but I still think it's something we can skip.

My towel closet is essentially a shelf covered by a door. A full wood door, painted white, three hinges, and a handle. That's a lot to cover a shelf.

This pretty reckless assertion (get rid of all the cabinets and doors!) stems from a more modest (and probably more practical) idea from Ted Helm, entrepreneur on the e-commerce frontier, that packaging is so silly! We shrink wrap everything, and it's basically just waste in transit.

If you sell me floss, I'll buy the floss without the paperboard backing and plastic cover. Just pour all the floss dispensers in a bucket, and I'll grab one. No big.

I can also do without these individually wrapped pieces of gum. Remember Chiclets? Just throw em in a box, a cup with a hatch, everwhat and it's okay. Won't we all still like gum?

With this idea that packaging is waste, there's no sense in ripping off my cabinets (they'd exist here or in a landfill at this point), but I will peacefully protest aisle 11 in all its individually-wrapped glory.

"The Imagination of Nature"

I was checking out Mental Floss, one of my favorite sites, and found this sweet video remixing the excitement Bill Nye and Carl Sagan harbor for the interconnectedness in the universe.

It's kind of exciting to listen to the lyrics and watch their faces get so excited about "being made of star stuff," because I too get excited about being connected to everything. By chemicals, by purpose, it's far from belittling to think of all the bonds. What's the difference between my purpose and a black hole's when we look at the universe? How can I even begin to think about something like that?

Are you upset?

I saw "Where The Wild Things Are" tonight with some friends and it basically confirmed that someone else thinks assholes are only assholes because they're people who are scared. I really do think that. How can anyone really just be an asshole? I refuse to believe that can happen. There just MUST be something behind it, and like I've said, fear is behind everything negative.

The kid in this flick was lonely and afraid he wasn't loved so he acted out. Then he went to this beautiful and diverse island where the Wild Things were all scared and lonely and feared they weren't loved and then THEY acted out. Then the all realized they ARE loved and hugged each other and made me want to cry. Because sometimes I'm an asshole. Because sometimes I'm scared.

But I think it's maturity that lets me see that sometimes I'm an asshole. Sometimes I'm scared. Maturity let's me accept it, and attempt to deal with it. Maturity.

Concurrently, there's a mutiny in my World Civ class because our professor is a jerk. I wonder what he's afraid of. I've been getting emails from my peers telling me to join them in sending an email to the Department Head to complain. Now I'm not exactly sure what to do at this point, because all I really want to do is hug him and tell him that it's okay. It's aalll okaaay, like his mom once did, or didn't do, and who the hell knows what the problem is. I sure hope he isn't fired because he knows world history. He just is an ass. And that's really too bad.

Floating thoughts

It was raining yesterday. I was on my way to class, late, standing at the corner waiting for the light to change. I had the umbrella Kelsey left in my apartment before she left for Wales, which is bigger than my little green one that can barely keep a girl dry. I noticed a guy with his shoulders up around his ears, cold and wet, so I did the unimaginable: I invited him under my umbrella. I forgot I was late while we walked and talked and I made a new friend.

Who doesn't love white-noise, like a fan running, when you fall asleep?

And is this the first day of peace? (I really do feel like it might be.)

I've been collecting data to determine whether or not I'm an adult. I have a game closet. That's a very adult thing to have. I have beer in my refrigerator, but I always have trouble spelling refrigerator. Hm. Quandary. I pack snacks for road trips.

But what's more is (yeah, check it out), I can apologize when I've messed up. I can hug people when they're crying. I can tell someone when they have hurt my feelings. Now, that's adult.

flickr

On fear

flickr

I love fear. Fear is awesome. Fear runs everything, you know. If you gave me the chance, I would try to link every negative thing you've ever done to some fear you had. Isn't that crazy? I didn't always think this, but once I did, it was certainly hard to shake. I'm glad it's hard to shake though because wouldn't you like to know about something inside you running your life in all sorts of strange ways with not so much as a note to why? Yeah you would.

Regrets are linked to past fears. Wars, even this war going on right now was started by some fear. Why are people mean? Why do people cheat? Why do we fight? Why are there guns? Why is there so much shit going down all over the world, men? Why did I just single out men? Because men are more afraid than women. They, hands down, have the most to lose.

Love,
s

On worry

flickr

It all started with Baz Luhrmann. I watched his version of Shakespeare's "Romeo + Juliet," (1996) and subsequently hopped on itunes and bought the soundtrack.

First of all, the album is great, a sweet kick back to the 90's, but that's not really my point.

The song, "Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)" struck a cord. Maybe it's because I'm nearing the end of college and for some reason the worry and anxiety that is usually (albeit constant yet) "underlying" is now screaming (more with everyone around me, but a bit for me too).

For days, I was holding onto one of the song's mantras, "Don't worry about the future, or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum." I was rolling it around and thinking about my friends and all their worries, about how I was worrying about their worries, and about my own worries and the ways all this darn worrying was affecting me. I've concluded that worry is bizarre and fascinating.

But what's more is why do we worry? I was researching social norms, the things we say, the ways we think because of what we are told, the flight or fight response, the idea of inherent self-worth, "earning" and "deserving" and it's so complicated we hardly ever give ourselves over to thinking about it! Worry is crazy! Guilt is crazy! It's self-inflicted anxiety! Masochists. A society made up of masochists. No wonder we're so preoccupied, giving ourselves polyps and ulcers, and dare I say ...cancer to have any time left for happiness.

I looked up "worry" on the internet. That's right. I looked it up and I found a whole website devoted to anxiety. It has articles about combating worry, finding your purpose, and how our society is selling us emotions. Emotions are tight. Every single darn one of 'em. (Please note that Worry is not an emotion.)

I don't claim to have an answer; I don't know how to be save my friends from worrying. But I'm giving myself a shot. I'm going to, like the "Anxiety Culture" website suggests, take my feet off both peddles. No accelerator. No brakes. Hey, no hands!! (I added that last one myself.) Don't get me wrong; I'm not going to throw in the towel on the world, I'm just going to hug and welcome it. You know, I was reminded about a fact of life by the sitcom "Big Bang Theory:" we are born, we consume calories, we expel waste, we die. Neat, huh? And I promise all that will happen, too. Guaranteed. The rest of it cannot, by definition, contain mistakes. Since nothing else is noted in the rules of life, anything goes. Happiness goes. Happiness! We can have it! No one cosmologically important said we can't. We said we can't. WE said we can't? Masochists. Masochists. We can be happy, you know. And we don't even have to feel guilty about it.

So here's to it: thinking about what I'm worrying about, separating the feeling of anxiety from the actual problem and welcoming the problem. Hey, impending graduation, real world, and no path of aspiration! What up? The time that my mind has already given you, that doesn't even exist yet, will happen. For shiznizzle. It will definitely pass, and then what? Will I be happy? No matter what happens in that already donated slot in my life? Guaranteed. Happiness. Guaranteed!

Love,
s

At the dinner table, Sarah recited this from memory:

"How could I henceforth be content in any other life
than one that sets the brain in a hot merry fever with its stir?"

-Augusta Webster, "A Castaway"

(This isn't Sarah. This is Katie.)

Reduce. Reuse. Recycle.

I'm glad people are recycling, but what about the two steps before "recycle?" I find them to be arguably more valid, simple, and worthy steps, too, but they don't get near the press time their famous, or perhaps now infamous, sibling Recycle has gotten. (Did you know it's been dubbed a "craze?" Yeah, really.)

Don't get me wrong, it's encouraging to see good things like recycling and organics become in vogue. Finally old fads like large SUVs and super-homes are becoming ugly with the label "excessive," said with upturned noses by those who once yearned to possess. Our country is socially catching up with the rest of the world, which is neat to watch. Hey look guys! Our resources are finite! Hmm.. Let's recycle!

But what about steps one and two? Why so hasty to fix the problem by jumping to three? Reduce your consumption; why not? It's cheaper, like reducing the amount of packaging you contract (makes it sound like a disease, eh?) Like using a cloth shopping bag or buying the two liter bottle of Coke instead of a six pack of plastic bottles you defensively validate by saying, "Well I'll recycle them." My engineer grandfather has created a system of his own, and I have a feeling it's more a personal thing (ie financial) than about our environment. Once upon a time, he bought a six pack of club soda in their lovely uniform glass bottles. He drank them, washed them, and saved them. Now he buys the large bottle of club soda. Since he lives alone and can't finish the large bottle by himself before the contents becomes flat, he pours the soda from the large bottle into the six little bottles and refrigerates them to drink at his leisure. It's practical, efficient, and smart. Well done Papa.

Which brings us straight to the elusive step two: reuse what you already have. Novel, I know. What happened to the Tupperware craze of the fifties? We all remember that handy invention, so why did we switch to plastic ziplock bags? Since we (seemingly) all have dishwashers now, it would be a cinch to clean and reuse those dirty tuppies we all know and love. Can we also lean on nostalgia a little for the lunch box our mom's used to pack for us and stop sending our kids to school one brown paper bag after the other? (Or even use them ourselves?) And it's cheaper! We like cheaper!

Man oh man, what a world! What a great world! We have so much and we're even starting to like each other and look around to see what's goin' on. Sweet. It's a great day to be alive, with ideas and colors and lots of smiles and such. So grab that reusable shopping bag and go buy some local strawberries! Heck, take a bike ride there and high five your next door neighbor on the way. Don't fret about recycling so much, because there are two easy steps that can leave you with very little to recycle in the end anyway! Wahoo! Freedom to make choices! And good ones at that! :)

Back in the US of A

I'm back and it's nice. Who knew Tennessee would be so green?

Too many things have happened for me to write, but many good things have passed and some neutral ones. I can't remember if there have been bad things, but I take that as a good sign.