What We Need Is Here

Depression and Depression

"The Thinker" and other Rodin studies - Orsay Museum

One facet of our "new economic reality" (what will it be called someday - the Great Collapse?) that warrants some thinking about is the emotional/spiritual side of this kind of loss. It's been less than six months since the market took its historic plunge and the bailouts began, and most of us have been in a "wait and see" mode. But lately, I am hearing more and more about the repercussions of having the rug pulled out from under one - whether from young people who are about to graduate from college or from older ones who have seen their retirement money suddenly reduced by half.

While most of us knew at some level that houses could not just keep appreciating in value year after year without any actual improvements being involved, and that the gap in pay between those few running the company and those making it run was not just or tenable, and that we couldn't keep on buying and driving more and more without resource depletion, it was a a nice illusion for those profiting from the situation to believe in.  But now here we are in Reality.  And it is scary for those who have lost 40% of their investments, catastrophic for those losing their jobs and homes. It's a matter of security and livelihood and hope in the future, and these things go much deeper than our pocketbooks; they touch us at our core.

Awash in economic advice - Buy more! Save more! Keep your money in the stock market! Get it out of there quick! - I am interested in how to reconfigure the way we look at our lives and the lives of others in an economic system that's changed for good. And I mean that both ways - permanently and necessarily. I've found some voices that have been helpful to me in both understanding what happened and figuring out how to contribute to the "other world" we have dreamed was possible.

Some voices worth listening to:

Parker Palmer - Recently interviewed by Bill Moyers and by Krista Tippett on Speaking of Faith, Palmer offers a sobering analysis of the human failings that brought us here and of the promise of finding ourselves "in one of those interesting points of history where self-interest and idealism converge."

Sharon Astyk - If you read this blog regularly, you know I am a fan. She has been talking the talk with wisdom and an almost frightening understanding of what the future holds if we continue on the path we've been on (she's been right on a lot of the disasters most of us didnt' see coming). She's also walking the walk of raising a young family grounded in values and work that she hopes will carry them and the rest of us through.

Krista Tippett and Speaking of Faith: A new series of short interviews called "Repossessing Virtue" explores the "moral, spiritual, and practical aspects of the economic downtur" with wise folks from all over the political and religious spectrum including urban activist Marjora Carter, physican and activist David Hilfiker, economics professor Ayman Amer, Buddhist teacher Sharon Salzburg, and others.

Bill Moyers - In addition to his recent interview with Parker Palmer mentioned above, Moyers has been on top of the economic crisis from the beginning with thoughtful interviews with economists of every political stripe.

Our neighbors - I learn a lot listening to the fears and hopes of folks in my own neighborhood - the old, the young, the experienced, the newly educated, the hopeful, the fearful, the homeless, the political, those who had money, those who never benefited from the system. They are our community and they  offer us reality, a mirror in which to examine our own belief systems and plans, and real support during times of difficulty. If you don't know your neighbors, now's a good time.

Like the person who is experiencing personal depression who seeks relief through self-reflection, help from others, and the hard work of putting back together a personal world that's fallen apart, I believe we can, during economic depression, find new ground to stand on together. I'm grateful for these harsh and hopeful voices offering us a new and more real understanding of who we are and what the possibilities may be.

Down the toilet

We have a lot of people using our home resources - nine of us living in the house day to day, plus regular guests who sleep on the floor when it's cold or wet, and 100+ folks joining us for dinner over the course of a week. 

So we use a lot water - dishes, showers, toilets. We've tried to self-limit our time in the shower  - not too difficult when all the dishwashing is sucking up all the warm water.  But a lot of water goes down the drain in the dishwashing process, not to mention the water sent rushing through the pipes with each flush of the toilet.  You may know where this is heading.

Gray water. The water that you use for one process - dishwashing, clotheswashing, showering, etc. that's not exactly clean, but not so dirty either. This week we started talking about how we could divert this marginally used water and use it for plant-watering and toilet-flushing.  After batting around some ideas that required plumbing skills, we decided on a simple, first step.

We have stationed large buckets under the kitchen sink and in both showers. While we are waiting for water to heat up for these processes, we'll catch it in the bucket and use it again. I'm curious about how much we'll actually collect. And chomping at the bit to find simple ways to divert washer water and dishwashing rinse water to the same purposes.

One small step...

February, you are lovely

San Felasco Hammock - February morning
I almost hate to see to see this month go. February is always full of surprises - warm days followed by frigid nights followed by a rainy day or a sunny one and then a night with thunder cracking... But most of all it is just beautiful. Spring begins early here and in the midst of the mixed-up weather, sandhill cranes are gathering overhead and the robins are coming through. Robins are commonplace in so many places, but they are only annual visitors here, and they seem to bring spring with them.

Robins! Even in a paved city lot.

The real evidence of impending spring is in the woods. I haven't hiked in the San Felasco Hammock since we moved into the center of town; ten miles seems like an extravagant distance to travel for a six-mile hike. But I was desperate enough for solitude last weekend that I made the trip. And then I returned today with my camera.

Tiny new river birch leaves

First dogwood blooms

It was a food for the soul for sure. Add to it birds twittering, the wind rustling the leaves, the crash of deer through the woods - and more robins - and it was a feast fit for Mardi Gras.

When we get out of the glass bottles of our ego

D.H. Lawrence

When we get out of the glass bottles of our ego,
and when we escape like squirrels turning in the
     cages of our personality
and get into the forests again,
we shall shiver with cold and fright
but things will happen to us
so that we don't know ourselves.

Cool, unlying life will rush in,
and passion will make our bodies taut with power,
we shall stamp our feet with new power
and old things will fall down,
we shall laugh, and institutions will curl up like
     burnt paper.

Sustaining Alachua County

I attended Sustainable Alachua County's "first community sustainability workshop" last week. There were over 200 people present representing interests in everything from green business incubators to community gardens to elder care to home energy audits. It was good to see the numbers and the diversity of interest. A lot of white folks wanting to "educate" though. As a white folk myself, I lean in the direction, too, of believing that if everyone "knew" then things could change. But my experience (and the experience of people of color that I've learned from in anti-racism gatherings) is that it also takes a great deal of organizing to get the "attention" of the powers that be. In other words, a lot of hard work, elbow grease, and strategy backing up those ideas and words!

In the small group breakout I was part of on "food" (of course), after listening to a number of people talk passionately about the need for "raised-bed gardens" one participant in her 50s asked, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to raise vegetables organically in this region?" She has had a plot in our local organic community gardens since 1981 - and still has one.  She wasn't saying it couldn't be done, but that it takes a lot of of work and wisdom to do it. That was the take home message of the meeting to me. We have a lot of diverse resources who have found themselves on the same page. We need to organize them, making sure that wisdom isn't lost, that youthful enthusiasm is supported, and that we can match our strengths to the areas of greatest need.

Like You

By Roque Dalton (Translated by Jack Hirschman)

Like you I
love love, life, the sweet smell
of things, the sky-
blue landscape of January days.

And my blood boils up
and I laugh through eyes
that have known the buds of tears.
I believe the world is beautiful
and that poetry, like bread, is for everyone.

And that my veins don’t end in me
but in the unanimous blood
of those who struggle for life,
love,
little things,
landscape and bread,
the poetry of everyone.

in the original Spanish

Como Tú 

Por Roque Dalton

Yo como tú
amo el amor,
la vida,
el dulce encanto de las cosas
el paisaje celeste de los días de enero.

También mi sangre bulle
y río por los ojos
que han conocido el brote de las lágrimas.
Creo que el mundo es bello,
que la poesía es como el pan,
de todos.

Y que mis venas no terminan en mí,
sino en la sangre unánime
de los que luchan por la vida,
el amor,
las cosas,
el paisaje y el pan,
la poesía de todos.

Little Differences?

During my month long visit to France, I couldn't help but notice (and delight in) the little differences among lifestyle - particularly those that affected energy consumption. I wound up staying in Paris for my entire visit and realize some of the differences are common to some large American cities - like New York. Yet the average French citizen uses about half the energy the average American does, and I think some of the differences I noticed may be contributing factors.

• Transportation: Like many big cities, most people in Paris use public transportation. The Paris Metro is known for being one of the most efficient underground transportation systems in the world. Still, most of my stops were about 1/2 mile from where I lived and required a lot of walking underground to make connections, with regular stair-climbing involved. I couldn't help but notice what most Americans notice about the French - they are thinner and more fit-looking. I didn't see many gyms on my walks around the city. What would you rather do - stare at a tiny television screen while you use the elliptical machine - or walk quickly (everyone walks quickly there) through the rues de Paris?


• Heating: In general, thermostats seemed to be kept at a lower temperature. When I've visited colder areas of the U.S., I've often felt almost suffocated by the drastic change in temperature (and clothing requirements) between the outside and the inside. In Paris, I found myself comfortable keeping my coat on (and certainly my sweater) at restaurants, stores, offices and even the homes of friends.


• Water: Bathrooms are quite different! Fortunately, I did not have any contact with the infamous "Turkish toilets" - simply holes in the ground. I did notice that the regular toilets, without exception, were the "low flow" type and almost all of them - both private and public - had two choices for flushing: big flush and little flush.  Most French homes do not have bathtubs, but only showers. And these are not designed for long, leisurely hot showers. Most have hand showers with no hooks on the walls; they're used by hand. This, combined with cooler inside temps, had a definite effect on the length of my showers.


• Food: French food was wasted on me since I don't eat meat. But I enjoyed the leisurely pace of eating in both homes and restaurants. In general, French people eat dinner around 8 - mainly because they prepare it from scratch and need the time after work to do so. I noticed portions were much smaller than what I'm used to getting in restaurants here. And of course there are not nearly as many fast food restaurants. I did stop at a Starbucks coffee one day (mea culpa) and was served a typcial giant-sized latte, but in a ceramic coffee cup. You don't see as many people in Paris walking around with food and drink in hand - even on the Metro. Occasionally, I saw someone biting into the top of a baguette they'd just picked up at a bakery on the way home.  No "Big Gulps."  I think this also must contribute to the petite girth of most Parisians.


• Homes: I wasn't in a lot of them, but the ones I was invited to were much smaller than our average home here, but probably more like you would expect in New York City.  A strong difference I noticed, though, was the amount of stuff in them. Even in the more expensive ones, every wall wasn't covered with decorations and every corner filled with a piece of furniture - like we tend to (or hope to) do here. I appreciated the spareness and simplicity - and beauty - of it.

As much as I enjoyed the French and their ways, two typical Parisian behaviors continued to rub me the wrong way even though I grew in understanding as I talked with people about them - too much emphasis on clothing and a little too much social reserve. I give us credit here:

• Dressing down: I noticed immediately how very "put together" most Parisians are - men and women. While they may not have as many clothes (closets are small or non-existent), they seem to feel compelled to dress up wherever they go.  One guidebook described a woman engaged to a French man who one morning put on some sweatpants to run to the bakery at the corner. Her betrothed asked her in amazement, "You are going out like that??" When she replied that she was only going to the bakery, his response was: "But it's not nice for the baker!"  Questions about the sanity of dressing for the baker's pleasure aside, I did begin to comprehend that the French may consider it a civic obligation to look beautiful. After all Paris as a city has been obsessed for centuries with being the most beautiful city in the world.  But still, sometimes while wading through a street of smart-looking women and men in pointy shoes and matchy accessories, I longed to round a corner and come upon a big, fat, Gator-shirt- wearing redneck - or anyone in sweatpants. Didn't happen, ever. Americans, by and large, are a lot more easy-going, and possibly less self-conscious about clothing. I like that. We have way too much of it, but our general attitude toward clothing might be more sustainable for the long haul.


• Friendliness: I came to understand that Parisians, like many big city dwellers, tend to avoid eye-contact; there are a lot of faces to acknowledge on a short walk. What I can't understand is the general Parisian opinion that people who do make eye-contact, or - God-forbid - smile at a stranger seem shallow at best, and maybe even idiotic. I got used to it over time, and I thought a lot about whether it was true that Americans behave like silly puppies wagging their tails at everyone they meet. I especially took to heart the critique that acknowledging anonymous people in our path is a sign of shallowness. Honestly, I think not. I think smiling and greeting people we don't know is a lovely way of recognizing the humanity of our fellow human beings; it's encouraging, and it's kind. The first time I walked the dog around the neighborhood when I returned, I was caught off guard by the strangers who wished me a good morning or waved from their front porches. I love that about us. I think any kindness and recognition of the "other" is good for us and for the planet.

I think we have the heart, but now we need the resolve to live "simply so that others may simply live." That decision may be in the process of being made for us by our (global) crashing economy.

Kid-Friendly Casserole

Riley helps with dinner

On my recipe card for this is written this note: "Anna loves this - 1994." In fact, every kid in my life (past and present) has seemed to enjoy this. And this is the right time of year for oven-baked food.  This recipe uses local veggies available now at the farmers market: potatoes (we're at the end of the sweet potato season, the very beginning of the white - either works) and cabbage (or another mild, quick-cooking green like spinach or kale could substitute).  

This went well and looked nice with a green salad made with "spicy salad mix" from Mrs. Carlisle at the Saturday market, dolled up with a few sliced, leftover boiled eggs and a splash of vinaigrette. Very nice.

Late-Winter Potato Casserole

Ingredients:
2 potatoes per person
about 1/4 as much cabbage as you have potatoes (4 cups chopped potatoes = 1 cup shredded cabbage)
Butter or olive oil
A little milk, buttermilk, yogurt, vegetable broth, or potato water
Grated cheese (optional)

Directions:
Shred cabbage by slicing it very thinly in pieces no longer than 2 inches or so.  Chop potatoes (peeled or not) and cover with salted water; bring to a boil then lower and cook till tender. While potatoes are boiling, saute cabbage in butter, olive oil or a mix of the two until tender.

Mash potatoes with enough liquid (options listed above) to make them the consistency you would  like them.  Mix in cooked cabbage. Put mixture in lightly oiled or buttered casserole dish.

Cover with grated cheese if desired and place in medium oven (350 degrees) till cheese melts. Or serve without the oven step if you are not using cheese.

Riley contributed one seriously peeled potato.

Throw Yourself Like Seed

Red Maple Tree in Seed, February

Shake off this sadness, and recover your spirit;
sluggish you will never see the wheel of fate
that brushes your heel as it turns going by,
the man who wants to live is the man in whom life
   is abundant.

Now you are only giving food to that final pain
which is slowly winding you in the nets of death,
but to live is to work, and the only thing
    which lasts
is the work; start then, turn to the work.

Throw yourself like seed as you walk, and into your
    own field,
don't turn your face for that would be to turn it
    to death,
and do not let the past weigh down your motion.

Leave what's alive in the furrow, what's dead
    in yourself,
for life does not move in the same way as a group
    of clouds;
from your work you will be able one day to
    gather yourself.

- Miquel de Unamuno, translated by Robert Bly

Calomondin Marmalade

This is one area in which our region excels: Oranges in Winter. Oh, it is good. Not only are they high in vitamin C which is very handy this time of year, but citrus fruits are little orbs of sunshine on a cold day.

We used some of the littlest orbs - calomondins - to make marmalade this week. Calomondins originated in Asia and are thought to be a hybrid of kumquats and tangerines - but no one seems to know for sure. They have thin, sweet peels like kumquats, and they peel easy and have easily sectioned fruit like tangerines. They are extremely sour, though, which is why most people grow them only as ornamentals.

We bought four little baskets full from the Hendersons at the farmers market on Saturday and turned them into sweet and sour marmalade. The process took about two hours of my time in the kitchen, although the juice had to rest in the fridge overnight midway to develop the pectin.

I am not a fan of jellies, jams, and marmalades generally. But I love the idea of local ones so much that I truly enjoy them when I make them or get them from someone who has.  And they do taste so much more fruity than the kind you buy at the supermarket. This one is my favorite so far - tangy, textured with little bits of tasty peel, and lovely to behold spread on warm toast on a cold morning.

CALAMONDIN MARMALADE RECIPE

Select four cups of firm fruit, free of blemishes. Remove seeds and slice thinly. Measure fruit and place in saucepan. Add 3/4 cup water to each cup of fruit. Bring to a boil and boil for 15 minutes. Cool, and place in the refrigerator overnight to develop pectin.

The next day, measure the stock, and for each cup of stock add 1 cup sugar. Bring mixture to a boil and continue to boil until candy thermometer reads 220 degrees.  Pour immediately into sterilized jars and process in a hot water bath for 5 minutes.