Captain Moore has one word for you on World Oceans Day: Refuse!

Captain Charles Moore is one of my personal heroes and the man whose work discovering, studying, and bringing the world's attention to plastics in the oceans changed my own life completely two years ago. So you can bet that when I was invited to attend his presentation at Google in Mountain View last week, I rearranged my work schedule, rented a Zip Car, and got my butt down there.

Captain Moore's story is the subject of the article commonly known as Plastic Ocean. If you haven't read it yet, stop what you're doing and read it now! But be sure to return to this page afterwards to listen to his important message for all of us.

Moore is not much taller than I, but his presence is captivating and the force of his conviction, palpable. Wearing a necklace made of plastic found out in the North Pacific Gyre, he is a man who has looked into the abyss, not once but repeatedly, and returned to warn us about it. His eyes twinkle, but they also look deeply tired. He has been trying to get us to wake up to the the damage we're doing to our precious planet for over ten years, and the world is just now starting to listen.

Moore's presentation included many samples of the types of plastics found in the Pacific Ocean and that wash up daily on the world's beaches, as well as a hat knitted out of some of that plastic, which he sometimes wears.




And he is a living testament to his convictions. His bag, knitted from plastic grocery bags, is a reminder of plastic in the environment, while his naturally-corked stainless steel water bottle demonstrates his dedication to reducing his own personal consumption of plastic. I must say, I've taken many, many steps to lower my plastic footprint, but seeing that cork in his Klean Kanteen blew me away.



Natural alternatives to plastic may be well and good to an extent. But Charles Moore's message is not about running out and buying "green" products. Just the opposite. In fact, from the things he said during his presentation and in the meeting with him afterwards, I don't believe Charles Moore believes that plastic itself is the main problem in the first place.

The plastic pollution problem is the visible manifestation of the crisis of our civilization. (There's so much more that is invisible.) Progress is not what we're after here. Everything has to be redesigned. We need a new paradigm that subtracts from the consumer lifestyle rather than adding to it. We're after difference. The Great Refusal.

I asked Captain Moore what he thought was the most important thing we as individuals can do. Here is what he said:


Click here to view the video on YouTube, where I've also posted a complete transcript.

Today is World Oceans Day. But according to Moore, the crisis we are facing is about more than the oceans or plastic or pollution. Plastic pollution is a symptom of a way of life that is completely unsustainable.

Today, I plan to get still and meditate. How about you?

Read/view the group's statement on plastic pollution developed by activists, artists, and evironmentalists after Moore's presentation at Google.
 

Is it True?

Got back from Santa Cruz and have been going non-stop ever since. Have some really cool plans for Fake Plastic Fish and no time to execute any of them this week. Don't even have time to post any of your guest posts! Gotta run. In the mean time, how about taking a few minutes to think about (and comment on, if you want) the following question:

Is there one main reason/excuse/explanation you tell yourself to get out of doing things that seem like a challenge? (A couple of mine, for example, are that I'm too tired or that I have too much to do. See above. *Smile*) And then ask yourself sincerely, "Is it true?"
 

Do you know your life's purpose?

I am not religious. Although I was raised in the Mormon faith, I currently hold no belief in a personal god or any other type of intelligent creator. I don't pretend to understand how the universe and everything in it came to be (although I've read some pretty cool theories), and I'm (usually) okay with the mystery. I love this planet and this life just as it is and derive meaning without any need for supernatural forces.

I realize many Fake Plastic Fish readers hold different beliefs and that's fine with me. I only preface my post this way because what I'm about to share and the questions I want to ask you are normally discussed within the context of religion or other spiritual system. But to me, knowing our place and purpose in this life is basic, simple, and completely natural.

So here goes. A few days ago, I was walking home from the BART station very late at night and feeling tired and overwhelmed once again. I'd finished a day at my accounting job and was contemplating work I still needed to do for the Oakland Earth Expo. The thought crossed my mind, as it has many times in the last two years, that I could just stop. Quit. Give up blogging and activism and reaching out to strangers. I could go back to my private little life of watching movies, playing with my kitties, and hanging out with Michael. What's wrong with that?

These kinds of thoughts come when I'm tired and usually dissolve as soon as I've had enough sleep. I know that, and was in the process of reminding myself of this fact, when I was stopped dead in my tracks by an inner voice that said, "You can't quit because this isn't yours to quit in the first place. The blog... the activism... the reaching out... you don't do them; they do you."

I've heard this voice before -- once on top of a peak overlooking Death Valley and once during last year's all night vision fast -- and I absolutely trust it. If I were religious, I'd probably say it was God. Since I'm not, I just think it's something we all have inside us that knows precisely who we are and our place in this world, something preverbal and very primal, that can't be fooled by the machinations of our left brains. The part of us that understands how ultimately, there's no separation between us and anything else.

I had all kinds of other realizations that night too. It was kind of like being on acid, actually, except without the cool hallucinations. I understood that my eco activism, and this blog in particular, are expressions of my ultimate place in this world, my purpose, and that to quit right now would be a rejection of who I am, in the largest possible sense. I also realized that the parts of me that I perceive as character flaws... jealousy, perfectionism, obsession, even procrastination... are part of what make me perfectly and uniquely suited to carry out that purpose. And finally, I realized how much I love Oakland and that in addition to finding my place in terms of life purpose, I've also found my place geographically... the place where I feel truly at home.

When I tried explaining these things to Michael, he thought it all sounded pretentious. And maybe it does. But to me, it feels like the opposite of pretention... like total humility. Because there's nothing in it I can own for myself, in the small sense. Nothing for the ego to grasp and claim for itself, try as it might.

So, if this makes any sense at all to you, I'd love to know what you think. Do you know why you're here and what your purpose is on this planet? Do religion or spirituality play a part? Are you searching to figure out who you are and what you should be doing? Are you content to simply be?

If you came here looking for advice on living with less plastic and would rather not deal with philosophical questions, check out my post on Blogher.com. But if you're in the mood to wax pretentious with me, please share.
 

Dear Planet Earth, Are you sad? Or am I just anthropomorphizing again?

Dear Planet Earth,

How are you? I am fine. Well, not exactly fine. I stay up late at night blogging. About you. Sometimes with a glass of organic wine. I'm kind of obsessed with you, actually. Wondering if you're doing okay. If you're sad about how we drill into you to fill up our cars, cut down your trees to wipe our butts, remove your mountain tops to keep our lights burning, and pump noxious gases into your atmosphere. Does it piss you off that massive areas of your oceans are filled up with our bottle caps, cigarette lighters, and cheap plastic toys, that coral is dying and beaches are washing away?

A lot of people have ideas about how to save you: recycling batteries, turning the lights off for an hour, or not turning off the lights, watching a movie, carrying our own bags, etc. There are even iPhone Apps to Help Save the Planet. Do these things make you happy?

And will you still be our BFF? We're giving up buying new plastic and reducing what we send to the landfill each week. We ride our bikes to the store and buses and trains to work. You like that, right? We drink from the tap and eat from the local farmer's market. I know I don't spend enough time quality time with you, but that's because I'm busy running around picking up trash!

Planet Earth, can you hear me? Or am I just talking to myself? Because sometimes I wonder if you actually care about any of this at all. I mean, in the long run, you will still be around after all of us humans are gone. We can destroy whole ecosystems and ruin every last livable space, but your plates will continue their tectonics, mountains will shift, and tides ebb and flow as you travel your habitual orbit around the sun. Finally, the sun will die, taking you with it. But until then, will you miss us?

After all, we do some pretty amusing things. Like creating a white trash wedding out of plastic grocery bags, throwing a party to celebrate pee, playing Matzah Frisbee, or rowing across the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans to learn Zen acceptance. Often, we do these things with such fervent sincerity that you must ripple with laughter from time to time. Is that what earthquakes are? Like how I topple my kitties onto the bedroom floor when their cuteness is too intense for me to lie still?

Also, Planet Earth, besides being amusing, we humans really care. We care so much that learning about some of the destruction we've caused brings a few of us to our knees. We care that sea birds and turtles and fish die from eating plastic, mistaking it for food, and that our children are exposed to toxic chemicals in their tubs. We care about suffering happening on the planet right now and suffering yet to come. Because for us humans, caring is what we do.

Planet Earth, we are the caring part of you.

So am I actually writing this letter to myself? Probably. Once, I thought I heard you answer, but then I realized it was only the sound of my own breath.

Sincerely yours,

Beth Terry, aka Fake Plastic Fish

This post is my latest contribution as guest editor for Blogher.

How many environmentalists does it take to spoil the party?

Apparently just one: me, insisting, "No thanks. No really. No, I don't want it. Seriously, no!" to the guy at the theater door trying desperately to hand me a plastic goody bag full of Sing Along Grease paraphernalia. Here are my friends Red and Jen sporting theirs:


Included in the plastic goody bag:

1) Plastic pom poms
2) Plastic sunglasses inside plastic baggie
3) Plastic bubble soap
4) Black plastic comb (for slicking hair back)
5) Fake cigarette (have no idea what it's made out of)

Without these implements, one cannot (the organizers would have us believe) participate fully in the Sing Along Grease Experience. Do you think that stopped me from belting my lungs out on "Hopelessly Devoted"?


No way, man! There are worse things I could do than say no to cheap plastic toys for a few hours. I could fume in my seat, self-righteously grumbling about plastic while everyone else had all the fun. But you know that's a thing I'd never do. So I didn't get to blow bubbles during "Beauty School Drop-Out". Jen said the cheap plastic bubble wand sucked anyway.

Now, back at home, I wonder about all the plastic waste generated last night. How many attendees will reuse any of those items? How much of it was left in the theater and how much will end up in the garbage? But these questions don't diminish the fun I had with my friends. They simply add another dimension to the experience. An extra layer of reality.

So my question for you is whether you ever find yourselves having less fun at social events because of waste or other environmentally unfriendly practices that no one else seems to notice? And if so, what strategies do you use in order to enjoy being with friends while dealing with eco anxiety?

(Note: Youtube videos linked were recorded by someone else during a previous event at the same theater... not last night's. We were much better singers!)
 

The Sweet Smell of Burning Plastic: Mindfulness Fail

I thought the smell was coming from my computer. I even turned the machine off and opened it up to make sure the fans were working properly. Then I remembered... Oh crap! I'd put water for pasta on the stove probably an hour before! Here's what happened when I attempted to remove the lid:


The whole house smells toxic. My poor kitties. This is why I shouldn't multi-task when one of the tasks involves fire. It's not like this was the first time I'd ever put something on the stove and forgotten about it.

Sad. The melted knob will go into this week's plastic collection... once it cools down and solidifies again. The metal lid? I'll have to find a metal recycler to take it to. Either that, or maybe handy RobJ can figure out how to make a new knob for it. Preferably out of wood this time.

It's a small amount of waste, certainly, but nevertheless avoidable if I had paid attention to what I was doing. Which is what this plastic-reduction project has been about, really. Paying attention to the materials that pass through my hands. Taking care of them, and thereby taking care of the planet.

And my inattention is perhaps symbolic of what goes on every day on a much larger scale. This week a plastics recycling plant in Northhampton County, PA caught on fire. Wonder what that smell was like.
 

I eat a lot of bread!

Last Friday, Arduous wrote a hilarious piece in response to Michael Pollan's request for readers' "food rules". Instead of healthy rules for eating, her post, "Things That I Call Dinner," confesses menu items such as candy, s'mores, and plain spinach with apples.

My own rule for Michael Pollan, which I left in a comment to his article, is "Real food doesn't come packaged in plastic."

That's all very well and good. What I didn't say was that sometimes days go by during which I'm too busy or lazy to eat anything but plastic-free bread. That can't be healthy, can it?

Granted, we do have the best bakery in town. La Farine on College Ave bakes fresh, whole grain, organic bread every day. And I bring my organic cotton ecobag to carry it home... avoiding all packaging, paper or plastic.


Keeping it fresh is another story. Once home, I store the bread inside the cloth bag with a plastic grocery bag wrapped around the outside. I just keep reusing the same plastic grocery bag. In the refrigerator, the bread can last for weeks.

But usually it doesn't need to last that long. Because it's, you know, dinner!

Okay, in the interest of getting my act back together in the health department, I'm going to go eat an orange. Are there any supposedly healthy foods that you consume to excess? Once again, I'm looking for some company in the confessional.

P.S. Michael's birthday is today. He's getting so freaking old! I may take a day off from blogging. We'll see.
 

Healthy bodies are good for the environment

The ferocious flu that hit me several weeks ago resulted in quite a few trips to Kaiser Permanente. During one of those visits, I noticed something in the public restroom I'd never seen there before: a green bin and green liner... telltale signs of composting afoot. I moved in to take a closer look. Sure enough... compostable liner and a sign above the bin instructing users to deposit paper towel waste there.

Sick as I was, I had my camera with me and the presence of mind to snap a few shots, while curious restroom users stared. I forgot about this green moment in Kaiser until reading the Ecology Center's recent issue of Terrain Magazine on BART this morning, particularly the article, "When More then the Scrubs are Green."

The piece describes the efforts of some medical institutions, including Kaiser, to reduce waste and switch to environmentally-safer products... from the food they serve patients to the carpets and furniture installed in buildings. And it points out that while a few hospitals have made changes to lighten their ecological footprint, most go through immense amounts of waste each day, much of it toxic, in an effort to protect patients' health. Ironic, no?

But the part of the article that really hit me came towards the end (emphasis mine):

No matter what percentage of its trash a hospital recycles, or how local its food is, or how sustainable the building, the uncomfortable truth is that modern medical practices have a big impact on the environment.... Possibly the best way for each of us to reduce the impact of hospitals on the environment is to do our best to avoid using them. That means making lifestyle choices like eating well and exercising, and advocating for better access to good food and laws that clean up our air and water.

In my case, of course, it also means getting more sleep.

We often think about the relationship between ourselves and our environment in exactly the opposite way. Pollution in our air, water, and food is harmful to our bodies. This article shows one way that our sick bodies can then contribute to further degradation of our environment. It's a vicious cycle, and someone needs to stop pedaling!

I'm guilty as charged. I stay up way too late. I imbibe excessive quantities of caffeine (My dentist advised me yesterday to give up coffee and I replied, "But I have. Many, many, many times.") and sugar and baked goods. My exercise routine is suing me for neglect (I will run again, I swear!) and my ass is getting flatter by the minute from so much sitting. Many of you have heard this litany from me before.

What I'm doing to my body is not just harming me... it's harming the whole planet. Yeah, fundamentally there's no real separation between me and anything else anyway. But on the level of everyday human experience, it's good to have a concrete reminder that the excuse, "I'm only hurting myself," is ultimately meaningless. When I get sick, sickness in the world increases. Medical waste increases. Medical spending increases too! Actions become ineffective. It's all just one big FAIL.

Now, before anyone jumps on me for "blaming the victim," I'm not saying that people don't get sick for totally random (as far as we can tell) reasons or due to factors over which they had no direct control. What I am saying that wellness is the responsibility of all of us... for all of us.

Healthy choices we can make that have far-reaching environmental consequences include:

1) Buying less plastic
2) Choosing organic food
3) Eating more plants and fewer animals
4) Driving less and biking/walking more
5) Practicing relaxation techniques like meditation, stretching, & breathing
6) GETTING ENOUGH SLEEP!

What are some ways that you keep both your body and the environment healthy?
 

Do you have an Eco Confession?

We did a terrible thing yesterday and will now be stripped of our official green membership card. Actually, Michael did it. But he wouldn't have if I hadn't begged him to.

We turned up the thermostat on our hot water heater.

Icebergs will melt and polar bears will be stranded because I couldn't handle one more luke warm shower. This morning, standing in the steamy heat while my skin turned red and blistered, I thought, "How can something that feels so good be so wrong?" And then I started belting out Like A Virgin.

My mom would totally understand. Here's a picture of her in Hawaii recently when the temp dropped to a frigid 70 degrees F!

This post has nothing to do with plastic but everything to do with questions about how willing we are to make personal sacrifices to care for the wider world outside our own skins. And my skin was screaming for heat.

Fake Plastic Fish readers sometimes make little comments about how they could never be like me in the plastic department. In fact, one of them who will be rooming with me at the Blogher Conference wondered if she'd measure up as my roommate.

She was just joking. I think.

Because what's easy for me may not be for others. And what sucks for others might be no sweat for me. Washing my hair with baking soda to avoid a plastic shampoo bottle and to save money? No problem. Doing it in tepid water? Forget about it!

In my defense (because, you know, I'm all about being defensive) I don't shower every day. So I rationalize that my long, hot showers (Did I mention that they're long?) should really be considered as several day's worth. Still, I wonder what Crunchy Domestic Goddess would think (she doesn't shower every day either), just as Lisa Sharp wonders what I would think when she buys plastic.

What are your eco sins, children? Please confess. I think we can all use a bit of absolution once in a while. On the other hand, if there really is someone out there without eco sin, please go ahead and cast your stones. I can take it -- as long as I can be warm. And as long as we can all have a good laugh at the end of the day.
 

Guilt, Gratitude, & Glass

A couple of weeks ago, I bought ten brand new Anchor glass refrigerator containers, similar to the vintage variety mom had. I found them at my local Container Store for the lowest price, and if there had been more of them in stock, I might not have stopped at just ten.


The containers and lids are made of glass, packaged in cardboard, with zero plastic. Nada. And they are sturdy, able to survive freezer, oven, microwave, & dishwasher without complaint. Each holds exactly one day's worth of homemade cat food for Soots and Arya, unlike the repurposed plastic containers I had been using which were all different sizes and shapes and generally a pain in the neck to fill and to stack.


So why the guilt?

Because I don't buy new things unless they are necessary! I found a used crockpot, used computer monitor, used litter boxes and cat carriers. I certainly could have found truly vintage glass containers similar to these on eBay or Craigslist or in thrift stores. Or I could have just kept using the plastic containers. I'm only filling them with cat food, for crying out loud. And... and... what will Clif say when he finds I'm not making use of the plastic I already have? He once gave me holy sh*t for whining about how tired I was of washing out plastic bags.

Oh, I worked myself into a bit of a lather over these little glass containers, which kind of surprised me. Because in addition to thinking of myself as someone who avoids buying new things, I consider myself someone who has progressed beyond unhealthy emotions like guilt. Ha! As I write all this, my tongue is literally pressed against my cheek because it all just sounds so ridiculous, silly to have such fixed ideas about who I am in the first place. My identity. My ego.

So anyway, for two weeks I've been planning to write this post and ask if any of you ever feel guilty for buying new things... guilty to the point that you don't actually enjoy the new things you bought. That was going to be the whole point of the post, until tonight after spending two nourishing hours with some very, very wise teachers.

This evening, I attended a conversation between Jon Bernie, my meditation teacher, and Brother David Steindl-Rast, a Benedictine monk and founder of ANG*L (A Network for Grateful Living), "a worldwide community dedicated to gratefulness as the core inspiration for personal change, international cooperation, and sustainable activism in areas of universal concern."

Cultivating an attitude of gratefulness is all about living in the present moment, appreciating what is here for us, allowing whatever arises to be, and finally, saying "Thank you." And as I walked home afterward and started thinking about writing this post tonight, I laughed out loud. Because I realized that all I feel about these little glass containers now is gratitude. Gratitude for how perfect they are. How they stack so well in the freezer...


and in the refrigerator...


and that they are designed so well and so beautifully. And then the gratefulness expanded to include the humans who had physically created the containers and those who had sold them to me. And when I looked around at the street and realized that my hands weren't actually holding a glass container but were firmly stuffed in my jacket pockets, I started feeling grateful for empty pockets, and for the thread I used the other day to patch the holes in them, and for the couple of coins that could no longer fall out.

I could go on and on about all the things I felt grateful for tonight as I walked home, but I think I've made my point. What's the use in feeling guilt when gratitude feels so much better?
 

Saving the Planet (aka Plastic, a**holes!)

If you haven't seen George Carlin's infamous rant about the arrogance of thinking we can "save the planet," you should. It's here on YouTube. But I warn you: it's not for the faint of heart, delicate of sensibility, or young of age. I haven't embedded it in this post because I don't want to be accused of corrupting the young. Again. (Hi Hayley.)

Here's a sample, (one of the few bits without four-letter words) as Carlin begins his unique rap about plastic:

The planet has been through a lot worse than us... been through all kinds of things worse than us. Been through earthquakes, volcanoes, plate tectonics, continental drift, solar flares, sun spots, magnetic storms, the magnetic reversal of the poles, hundreds of thousands of years of bombardment by comets and asteroids and meteors, worldwide floods, tidal waves, worldwide fires, erosion, cosmic rays, recurring ice ages, and we think some plastic bags and some aluminum cans are going to make a difference?

I was reminded of this monologue twice this week: first, in the comments on Fark.com and then this weekend while visiting a friend's father who is living with terminal cancer, and who is just as salty and irreverent as Carlin was. AO's war stories were mesmerizing, and his jokes had us in stitches as he held court from his bed.

Tonight, I'm thinking about the visit and the video as I try to write my blog post for this month's APLS (Affluent Persons Living Sustainably) Blog Carnival. The topic is "Nature." What is it? "What makes nature so powerful or meaningful? How has your experience with the natural world shaped your own environmentalism? Is love of the natural world an essential motivation for sustainability?"

And to that last question, I feel myself channeling my own inner crusty old man as I mutter, "Of course it is, but not how you think!" Because I am the natural world. So are you. So is plastic. Just ask Clif. Every breath reminds me that there is nothing separating me from anything else. My senses, as I walk down the street, ride on BART, stare at my computer, or pull weeds in my garden, let me know constantly that I am not alone.

The nursing home room where my friend's dad is spending his final days is anything but "natural" in the traditional sense of the word. It's sterile. Artificial. Efficient. And full of plastic. Yet in this man's wryly optimistic presence, I felt a deep, deep connection to humanity, to the body, to the miracle of each heart beat and to the constant thread of life, the thread of which death is a natural part. And there's that word again.

I'm not saying getting out to the woods or mountains or local park isn't a good idea. We know our bodies and minds do better when we give them space and clean air and earthy smells. And we ought to be working to even up the playing field so that no one has to breathe smog and drink contaminated water. Children should be taught where their food really comes from and how the many non-humans on the planet live.

But compassion can arise anywhere in any situation. I was casually browsing the Internet when I stumbled upon the photo of the Laysan albatross carcass full of plastic pieces, the photo that broke my heart and caused me to question the unconscious way I had been living. We don't literally have to hug a tree to care about life on planet earth.

But actually, it probably does help.

Because for some reason, most humans today do appear to feel separate from "Nature." Why else would we have created such a word in the first place? A word that implies something other than what we are. Our minds can be such tricksters, desperately holding our personalities together, convincing us that we are special, that we are different and in charge. But our monkey minds are part of nature too, having evolved in just this way to ensure our survival. And it's these brilliant, deluded minds telling us we are separate that may be also ensuring our destruction as a species.

So let's get out, stick our noses in the grass, squish our toes in the mud, watch a group of ants for an hour and maybe even taste one (my little sister used to eat them off the kitchen floor!) And then let's go inside and watch Planet Earth on TV, all the while reminding ourselves that nature isn't something out there to be saved. It's us. Right here. Wherever we are.

George C. says the planet will be fine without us. We're just another species. Ultimately as expendable as all the other forms of life that have gone extinct. And I have to agree. Death is part of life, after all.

He also seems to think we're already screwed. I hope not. I like being part of this world. Don't you?
 

I believe...

... that I don't always have the right answers.

This month's Green Mom's Carnival topic (which will be published tomorrow on The Smart Mama blog) is "I believe." Once again, I'm struggling with the theme because when it comes down to it, I recognize that whatever beliefs I hold are merely thoughts in my own head which are subject to revision at any time. So, with that qualification, here is a list of what I believe as I sit here at my computer tonight.

I believe that each of our individual actions ripples out and affects the rest of the world. We are not separate from each other or the rest of the universe, so why should we think what we do doesn't matter?

I believe in the power of the Internet to spread ideas, both creative and destructive, and that each of us is responsible for the content we send into Cyberspace (blog posts, comments, emails, etc.) as well as what we choose to take in.

I believe that one woman tallying her plastic waste each week and recording her personal struggles to live lightly on the planet can be an inspiration to others trying to do the same thing. But ten bloggers or a hundred or a thousand writing about living with less plastic can inspire exponentially. I believe I'd like more of you to join up!

I believe that plastic represents both the best of human ingenuity and the worst of human arrogance and that the arrogance of our disposable culture could be our downfall if we don't stop to care for all the materials that pass through our hands.

I believe I could be proven wrong about plastic, and that there are no perfect answers, and that sometimes I contradict myself. I believe my perfect imperfections are just part of being human.

I believe more and more in getting off the computer and out into the world. I believe that the 1,020 email message in my in-box will have to wait until tomorrow because I have a husband and kitties to hang out with and dinner to make.

What do you believe?
 

Sweet Plastic Birthday Present

Last Wednesday was my birthday. I took off from work and wandered around San Francisco, thinking, dreaming, planning...

Somehow I ended up in a gift shop on Union Street called The Enchanted Crystal. It's my boss's favorite place to hang out in the whole world... overflowing with shiny, sparkly, pretty stuff. Lots and lots and lots of stuff. And no dust in sight.

I wasn't really shopping. There was nothing I needed to buy, although I did end up with a gift for my mom, whose birthday is this Thursday, and a tiny embroidered credit card wallet for myself... something my friends have been urging me to get since I usually just shove my ID and credit cards and money into my pockets loose and hope nothing gets lost.

The point is that I was attracted to the shop by the pretty colors and was just enjoying being there without the need to acquire, when the shopkeeper engaged me in conversation. We chatted about this and that, and I let slip that it was my birthday. He held out his hand and told me he had a birthday gift for me. And there it was... a sweet little red heart, almost as hard as a polished stone, but molded from plastic.

I thanked him and put the heart in my pocket. And there it will live. A daily reminder that plastic is not the enemy. It's just one of the materials of the world. Problematic, to be sure. And something I routinely avoid. But in this case, this little plastic heart represents love from one human being to another. I put my hand in my pocket, squeeze the little man-made heart, composed of a substance that doesn't naturally occur, and realize that the heart in my chest is connected to even this.

Is that a cheesy sentiment? Maybe so, but I'm going to need to remind myself of it today at my office birthday party, where there will surely be some type of plastic, and this weekend while I'm in Hawaii visiting my family. I'm trying to finding a ways to love people and principles at the same time, holding none of them too loosely or tightly. Life is one challenge after another, isn't it?
 

Do you ever get embarrassed?

On Friday, I was happy to hang out with a journalist who is writing a book on plastic and wanted to know what it's like to try and live plastic-free. So we had lunch together and chatted, and then she followed me to the butcher shop where I take my stainless steel pot to buy chicken for my cats. At some point after I'd handed the butcher my container, she asked if I ever get embarrassed. I guess she was referring to my being the only customer bringing my own container and asking for this kind of special service.

My flippant answer was, "No. Once I turned 40, I stopped being embarrassed." And while I do believe that with age and experience many of us give up worrying so much about the opinions of strangers, there is always a certain amount of discomfort inherent in being the first to do anything. We want to know we're not alone. We want to feel assured that someone else has had the same or similar ideas as us and that while our choices may seem odd or eccentric to some, there is a community of others who will support us.

So I put the question to you all. Do you ever get embarrassed? How concerned are you about raised eyebrows or a possible joke at your expense? Do you take it personally? What does your reaction say about you and how you feel about yourself in the world? These are general questions, not necessarily related to plastic or bringing your own bags or containers while shopping. They apply to all social aspects of life. I'd love to know what you think.

Recently, I've begun a project, which I'll write about later, that is thrilling and also the scariest thing I have ever done. And the scary part is all about worrying what others will think. Judgment. Criticism. Fear of failure. And what I realize is that while I don't get embarrassed about bringing my own containers to stores or carrying a huge box of packing peanuts across town on my bike for recycling or even dressing up as a Brita filter, there are certainly cases in which I fear others' opinions.

Note: I've got simultaneous projects going on and haven't had time to post here. Hoping to get back in the swing tonight or tomorrow. If you are a Skoy cloth winner, I have your address and will be mailing the cloths tomorrow. Thank to everyone who shared their plastic-free resolutions for the coming year. Kudos to all of you!
 

Caring for the planet right now.

The topic of this month's APLS blog carnival is "maintaining this world for future generations." The carnival will be hosted on December 15 at Robbie's Going Green Mama blog. And I have to admit, this month I almost decided to pass. Because I don't have children. And honestly, my motivation to care for the planet has almost nothing to do with future generations and everything to do with this moment... this one... right here... now.

Right now, there are Laysan albatross chicks starving to death with bellies full of plastic bottle caps.

Right now, there are sea turtles choking on plastic bags.

Right now, there are fish swallowing PCB-coated "nurdles" and passing those toxins up the food chain to us.

Right now, there are children being poisoned by the BPA leaching from their food containers.

Right now, there are PVC workers breathing carcinogenic fumes and developing rare tumors.

Right now, there are towns in China that have become toxic waste dumps for our plastic "recycling" and e-waste.

These problems began before I was born and have increased significantly in recent years with the explosion of single-use disposable products. I'm glad there are folks here considering future generations. I wish those who started this mess had considered mine. But for me, considering the impact I am having each day, right now, is enough.

What motivates you to care?
 

Focus on Fake

The title of this blog is Fake Plastic Fish, ostensibly because if we don't solve our plastic pollution problem, fake plastic ones could be the only kind of fish we have left. And also because of Radiohead, for those who know what that means.

But there's another reason for the word "fake" in the title of this blog, and after the small uproar caused by yesterday's post about PETA's fake plastic wishbones, I'd like to try and address that reason.

But first, what is real?

Besides being kind to others and taking care of the earth, the primary motivating question of my life is "What is real?" That question is the reason I go on meditation retreats, sit and notice the silence around me, and listen to the words of spiritual teachers. It's why I practice noticing my own thoughts and the explanations my brain creates about life that, when I step aside, turn out to be just stories.

And what story does plastic tell? It's a substance often made to fool us. We can have plastic decks that look like wood; plastic bottles that resemble glass; Mylar that looks like metal; nylon that seems like silk; synthetic fibers that mimic cotton or fur or wool; even plastic dolls that look and feel like real human babies.

But have you ever seen any "natural" materials made to resemble plastic? Granted, I've been fooled by live flowers that seemed too perfect to be real. But would anyone advertise that their product is so great, you'd think it was plastic? In fact, my Webster's Encyclopedic Unabridged Dictionary of the English Language (c. 1996) lists among its many definitions for plastic,

13. artificial or insincere; synthetic; phony

Which is also what Zen Chef Edward Espe Brown says in the movie How to Cook Your Life when he holds up what looks like a yogurt container and says, "Plastic is insincere."

So the idea of a plastic wishbone, besides the fact that it's made from a substance that we know may be harmful to our planet, rattles me because of its very inauthenticity. It's not a bone. It's only the idea of a bone because a marketing company gave it that name and shape and planted the idea in our heads. But really, it's just a piece of plastic. And once it's snapped, it will go the route of all the other non-biodegradable plastics.

Is it recyclable as PETA claims? Perhaps in theory. In the wishful thinking of our minds. As an idea. In reality? Tiny pieces of plastic like that don't get recycled. I've visited recycling centers. It'll go the way of the rest of the junk, and hopefully end up in the lesser evil of the landfill rather than the ocean.

Plastic wishbones remind me of imitation food. I love tofu. I like to eat big chunks of it. But please don't texturize it and fill it full of food coloring and liquid smoke and other "natural" flavors to give the illusion that it's meat. It's not meat. It's tofu, beautiful tofu. And it's fine the way it is. I also eat real meat sometimes. And therein lies another question of authenticity. Do I believe the stories sold to me by the organic, humane meat producers? Or do I, like Michael Pollan, need to go and see for myself what is real and what is fake?

During the last meditation retreat, as I'd find my mind wandering and conjuring up one image or story after another, I had moment after moment of waking up to the startling realization, "Oh! That's not really happening!" What was real was me sitting in my chair with my eyes closed, breathing. The rest were thoughts in my brain. And what a wonderful brain it is that can imagine and play, plan and remember, and create stories for us.

I am not dissing the powers of our amazing brains!

But isn't it also true that these are the very capabilities that advertisers take advantage of every day? Selling us beautiful stories. A McDonald's hamburger is a happy family smiling together. A hunk of California cheese is the gift of happy talking cows. And a piece of plastic molded into the shape of a V is a Lucky Break Wishbone to make all a vegan's wildest dreams come true.

What's real? What's fake? It's a question for many lifetimes. But it's also a question for right now. What do you all think?
 

What is Local? Expanding the Definition

The topic of this month's APLS Carnival is "buying local," which seems to be an important factor in the sustainability movement. In the SF Bay Area, we have year-round farmer's markets where local producers bring us their fresh crops all year. So for someone attempting to live plastic-free, it's not hard to add "buying local" to the mix.

Except when it is hard.

Several months ago, I asked your opinion about which was better environmentally -- plastic-wrapped local cheese or waxed plastic-free cheese from Ireland. And surprisingly, most of you voted for the Irish cheese, saying that regardless of plastic, it's probably just better.

So it seems that some folks make exceptions to the local rule when it comes to foods from "expert" regions of the world. But I have a few more exceptions and redefinitions to add to the mix. I get that buying local is better for the environment because it reduces fuel miles and because foods grown locally do not need as much in the way of chemicals and energy to keep them fresh. But there's another reason: community. And sometimes community is not found within a 100-mile radius of where you live.

***
One of my new favorite Etsy sellers is Cat Domiano, aka The Green Cat, who is a blogger friend and one of the founding members of the Take Back The Filter campaign. One of my first interactions with her was when she made some cute mice for my new kittens last year. A quilter, she recently decided to use up scraps of fabric she's been storing by making coasters and napkins and cat toys and selling them them through Etsy.


I had no qualms about ordering cloth napkins from Cat (who lives in New York), even though I could have bought some cloth napkins here in Oakland, for the following reasons:

1) Cat is my friend.
2) I knew that Cat wouldn't send me any plastic packaging (including plastic tape!). She's a Fake Plastic Fish reader and trying to reduce her own plastic waste.
3) Supporting Cat is supporting the environment because she's likely to spend her money in ways that are environmentally-friendly. Right Cat?
4) Supporting Etsy sellers is a way to make sure that the cratspeople creating the products we purchase get a fair price for their creations because they set the prices themselves!
5) Supporting each other's work creates community -- even if we live many, many miles apart. It's a different kind of local, isn't it?

Oh, and when I told Cat I was going to post about her napkins (which are awesome) on Fake Plastic Fish, she wanted me to let you know that she'll do some kind of discount for Fake Plastic Fish readers, so if you place an order, let her know you read about her shop here.

***
Sometimes local really is local. This is Dan from The Green Bean Cafe at Forest and Claremont, just a few blocks from my house and right on my way to BART each day.


At the Green Bean, I can fill up my travel mug with fair trade organic coffee and have a sandwich made and placed into my reusable container. (Yes, the container is plastic. I haven't found a better non-disposable alternative yet, but I'm working on it.) Better than supporting Starbucks, certainly. But more important to me, I've gotten to know Dan and his business partner Brett over the years, and I have a great time every time I visit the cafe.

Dan is one of the funniest guys in town. He and I don't necessarily agree politically (as I discovered on election day) but we agree in other basic, human ways. In fact, he and Brett have set up a container at the shop for local folks to drop off used Brita filter cartridges instead of mailing them to us. And he gets really excited when people bring in their filters.


Besides the coffee, the food itself might not all be organic or local, but the spirit of the place creates community in a world where people too often find themselves separate from each other. These guys know pretty much everyone in the neighborhood, which is rare and precious in our disjointed world.

***
But sometimes, there are real conflicts between buying locally or buying from a large, impersonal corporation. A while back, there was a discussion on Burbanmom's blog comparing the soap she got from a local goat farmer to Dr. Bronner's castile soaps. And I found myself with the same quandary.

I had been buying soap from a local woman at the Ashby flea market. I was supporting her simply because she was local. I didn't know her personally and I never asked about the ingredients she used in her soaps -- fair trade? organic? I do believe they were free of synthetics.

But after reading the discussion on Burbanmom, I actually switched to the Dr. Bronner's soap bars. They are 100% organic. 100% fair trade. The wrappers and containers are made from 100% post-consumer recycled materials. Here is a company trying in every way possible to be sustainable. They are not local to me, and I don't have a personal relationship with them. But maybe those things don't matter.

Or maybe Dr. Bronner's creates a different kind of community -- a meeting of like minds coming together at the organic foods shop to refill their peppermint soap bottles. This company has been around so long and created such good will in the green and "hippie" community that they maybe deserve to be honorary "locals" wherever you happen to find their products.

***
So I guess all things being equal, I'd opt for a local product over a non-local one. But I don't stress about that one criterion. I do the best I can, and then let many other factors help determine my buying choices.
 

Information Overload

Do you ever feel like a disembodied head? I do. There's just so much information to know, so much to learn about our planet and how to care for it, and the Internet makes obtaining that information faster and easier than ever. I'm subscribed to a multitude of e-newsletters, all from worthwhile organizations:

350.org
Al Gore
California Product Stewardship Council
Californians Against Waste
Co-op America
Corporate Accountability International
Earth Resource Foundation
Food & Water Watch
Green Sangha
Greenpeace
Ideal Bite
New American Dream
Organic Consumers Association
Population Connection
Save The Bay
Sierra Club

I'm sure I've missed a few. Plus I'm subscribed to most of the the blogs that you see on my sidebar, including the Green Mom bloggers (which have embraced me as an honorary member) and the APLS, who are currently debating what the A stands for, as well as the newsletters of companies that sell plastic-free products. I want to be informed. Don't want to miss anything that might be useful in the quest to educate myself and others. Or to miss an opportunity to contribute to the conversation.

So the reality is that I sit hour after hour after hour staring at the computer screen, absorbed in the world of images and ideas, not so different from the original Star Trek's Captain Pike whose whole world consisted of mental images... illusions... fed to his brain by the Talosians. (I know. That last sentence was way too geeky even for me. But I'll bet a few of you know what I'm talking about.)

So what about the body? What about the information from the other four senses? From the natural world? The world that is, after all, what I supposedly love and what I'm allegedly trying to protect. How is it that gardening, composting, cooking or simply walking in the hills or along the beach have taken a back seat to email and blogging and virtual reality?

How is it that most of what I learn about nature comes from a plastic box?

I need to get out more. I realized that this weekend at Vajrapani. What a beautiful, soul-stirring place. But why do I need to go on "retreat" for a dose of nature? Why not just step out my front door? There's a lot to learn from the dirt in my front yard. The garden could be more than something I water for a few minutes a day and then forget until the next day. The compost could be a classroom and meditation hall unto itself. Why not?

It's not just kids that suffer from nature deficit disorder. In fact, a few nights ago, I was so desperate for something "real" that I couldn't bring myself to eat anything for dinner except the tomatoes and basil that I picked myself from my own front yard. I'd grown it. I knew where it came from. And I savored every bite. Did I turn on the computer afterwards? Probably not.

What are your favorite ways of immersing yourself in the real world? Of learning experientially? Directly, hands on, with minimal words? Where do you take yourself or your family to figure out what the world's made of? I'm actually craving a trip to a feedlot to see where meat comes from: the reality of food before marketers and packagers turn it into the idea of food.

Don't get me wrong. Language is an amazing tool. And computers take that amazing tool to new levels, allowing us to "see" things we couldn't otherwise or communicate with people we'd never have met. I have no intention of giving up blogging any time soon. But the world inside our heads is only a sketch of reality. How much more does the earth itself have to teach?
 

Vajrapani Retreat Center: find the plastic; win a prize!

Vajrapani Institute is a Tibetan Buddhist monastery nestled in the Santa Cruz mountains. Care for the earth and all its creatures is one of its core practices, to the extent that the members try as much as possible to avoid killing even insects. This is where I spent the weekend, sitting in silence, listening to the birds, showering among the trees, and just having a moment to breath.

I love taking pictures, so on the last day of the retreat, I snapped a few to share with you. But so as not to lose the theme of this blog, let's make a little contest. To the person who can identify a large mass of plastic hidden within one of these photos, I'll send a copy of Sierra Club's book, Seven Wonders For A Cool Planet. It's a nifty little book that Sierra Club sent me to review. But after reading it, I'd rather just pass it along and see what you think.

Next week, I'll reveal the winner and also discuss the ramifications of this type of plastic and its use. But for now, just enjoy. You can click on each photo to see a larger version.




























 

Fake Plastic Holidays

Walk into the local drug store (this happens to be Walgreens on Powell Street in San Francisco) in September, and this is what you find:




We know this. It's not news that Halloween has become a big plastic party. And it wasn't so different when I was a kid in the 70's. Plastic-wrapped candy in plastic bags and fake plastic costumes, which my family scorned because we always made ours from scratch. ("Do you think that kid's costume is homemade or store bought? Looks like store bought. Lazy.") And it wasn't just that our mom had so much more time to make costumes than other mothers who worked outside the home because when we got a bit older, we all made our own, cobbled together from whatever was around the house.

The rest of the holidays are no better. Fake plastic jack-o-lanterns are replaced with plastic-lined cans of pumpkin pie filling (read: BPA) because god forbid anyone should clean out and bake an actual pumpkin. You mean they're not just for Halloween? And of course, even before Thanksgiving is over, the Christmas plastic will be up. Fake plastic snowmen and tinsel and electric candles. Plastic crap toys and plastic appliances and all manner of plastic gadgets: iPods and phones and the latest video game or talking toy.

We spend a lot of time trying to find healthy alternatives to all the environmentally-destructive merchandise that's pushed on us during the holiday season. Toys made from wood instead of plastic. More wholesome sweets. Handmade gifts instead of store bought. Fair trade. Organic. Gifts of experiences instead of physical goods. We spend a lot of time on these things. And that's important.

But is it enough? How about questioning the whole compulsive holiday gift-giving assumption? What's driving us? What's our motivation? Is it to have a quality experience with people we love? Or is it because everyone else is doing it and we don't want to feel left out? Or we don't want our kids to feel left out? Are there ways to subvert the holidays and remake them in our own image, rather than simply "greening" what may be toxic for our souls to begin with?

If the holidays stress us out, make us feel inadequate, drive us to exhaustion trying to meet everyone's expectations, then it doesn't matter how environmentally-friendly the gifts are. The whole system has become fundamentally corrupted. How can we create rituals for ourselves and our families that are life-sustaining rather than draining? How can we approach the holidays from a place of actual holiness?

Holy. It's not a word I use lightly. (Well, except to exclaim "Holy crap!") I'm not even religious, so I don't mean it in that sense. What I mean is finding center and balance and respect for ourselves and those we love so that we're not buffeted by the massive tide of not just commercialism but basic inauthencity. Motivations as insincere as plastic itself. How can we be true to ourselves and honor the holidays without being drowned by them?

This post is full of questions and not many answers because I haven't found the solutions myself. But I feel the coming waves of anxiety and hope for something calmer this season. Last year, I bought movie passes for all my friends and family, feeling it was one of the more ecologically-friendly gift alternatives. But there was no joy in it. Merely a feeling that I had checked off one more chore from my list. But finding a pumpkin and spending a whole day making pumpkin soup -- that was a joyful experience. I hope to fill this season with moments like that.

Here's one idea that arrived in my email box today from Co-op America (soon to be renamed Green America, apparently. *Sigh*) Reverse Trick-or-Treating, "the new Halloween tradition of children handing Fair Trade chocolate back to their neighbors. The candy is attached to a card that includes information about social and environmental justice issues in the cocoa industry and how Fair Trade chocolate helps farmers across the world in cocoa growing communities."

It's not the answer and could be seen as just another thing to buy or to do. But the essential idea tickled me, turning the holiday on its head like that. The trick-or-treaters giving back to the givers and helping to spread a new idea.

What are your suggestions? See any ways around the holiday madness? Please share.

This post was included in the Green Moms Blog Carnival at Green Bean Dreams on Oct 6, 2008.
 

Sitting with a plastic water bottle

Yesterday, Allie wrote about the problem of keeping hydrated while traveling. Not realizing she could carry her Kleen Kanteen through security, she ended up purchasing bottled water. And apparently, she is far from alone. A couple of days ago, USA Today published an article about the environmental issues around bottled water production and waste that begins with the author's troubles at the airport.

Last night, I encountered this dilemma in a very unexpected place: a meditation hall. My friend Nancy and I went to sit with and hear a talk by teacher Pamela Wilson, given at a Unitarian Church in Berkeley. I'd had a stressful cab ride over and was happy to sit and relax into the moment, take a breath, and slowly open my eyes as Wilson began to speak with the audience. Her voice was calm and serene.

And then... oh my god!

She pull out a disposable plastic water bottle and...

holy crap! drank from it!!!!

What do you do when reality is right up in your face like that? I talked to myself (silently) saying, "Self, it's okay. She must have a good reason. I'm sure she has a good reason. She must not have had any choice. Oh, but Self, of course she had a choice. She's a meditation teacher. She's supposed to be enlightened. So how can she be doing this? Shhhh! Listen, she's saying something. What's that? Words? But... but... but... plastic water bottle! Plastic water bottle! Plastic water bottle!

PLASTIC WATER BOTTLE!!!!!"

It was a great practice, actually. My plastic practice. Because this is the world we live in. And because the point of Pamela's whole talk was about welcoming the voices that we hear in our heads, not shutting them up, but honoring reality in all its forms and in all the ways that it presents itself to us.

So, I honored the reality that was screaming in my left ear. (Don't know why my internal voice seemed to be coming from the left side. It just did.) And when I had a chance to ask a question, I took the microphone and smiled and gave voice to the little freak screaming "Plastic water bottle! Plastic water bottle!" except the voice I used to describe it to the group was much softer and calmer than the one in my head.

As soon as the words were out, I felt better. And Pamela Wilson laughed and looked at the bottle and said, "Oh I know! Isn't it awful?" And she admitted how she had been traveling and was really thirsty and didn't have anything to drink and needed water, and oh how good this water tasted, and yet still, the plastic will last forever, except that she will recycle it. And the whole time, we were smiling and connecting on this genuine heart level.

I don't know what happened to that bottle afterwards. But I do know that once I honored the screaming in my head by giving it loving attention, it transformed into something that could actually be a positive force in the world. Both the message and the medium were one.

I think what I'm trying to say is that I'm realizing all the time how important it is to forgive each other and ourselves as we work to protect the planet and make the world a better place. Because really, the world is already perfect. Isn't it?
 

Learning to Sleep

Why would anyone have to learn to sleep? The body does it naturally. When the lights go down, melatonin kicks in and we get sleepy. Then, we go to bed, right? Except, in this day and age with computers and artificial light, melatonin doesn't necessarily kick in. And when you've got genes like mine (father, sisters who stay up all night) the sleep deck is stacked even further against you.

Clif has ocassionally noticed the time stamp on my posts. Yeah, I am usually up until at least 2am. But lately, I've found myself crawling into bed past 4am and even still been up at 5:30 just when Michael is starting his day.

So I'm going to learn to sleep because I'm becoming less and less effective when I'm awake and more and more cranky with the people I care the most about. In the meantime, posts on this blog might be a bit sporadic.

But that's okay, because I'd really like to hear from you for a change. How do you feel about plastic? Is reducing it in your life a priority? Why or why not? And if so, what steps have you taken so far? What's the biggest challenge? And what alternatives to plastic have you found that I might not have yet?

Remember, I'm a child-free 43-year old female urbanite in the SF Bay Area using my own life as a model, so of course I haven't addressed issues faced by those who have kids or live in the suburbs or out on the country or in places that have actual seasons or are older or younger.

What questions do you have about plastic that Fake Plastic Fish has not addressed? Please let me know.

Oh, and remember, plastic will still be an issue after this freaking election is over, no matter who wins. And it will still be an issue no matter what happens to the economy. How can we take care of the short-term without losing sight of the big picture?
 

Affluence: Sustaining the flow

Last night, I had a wonderful meal with some new friends who are working to create an alternative online community. We ate at Red Sea, an Eritrean/Ethiopian restaurant down the street from me. As we sat before a giant communal platter of food: meats, vegetables, lentils, fish, all spread across sour injera bread, I marveled at the bounty before us and the irony that this amazing cuisine comes to us from a part of the world where the majority of citizens would be eating far less and far fewer dishes in one meal, and would certainly not have the need for a stainless steel tiffin in which to carry home leftovers.

To be able to eat until our bellies are full, to have food left over, and to feel secure that there will be more tomorrow, this is affluence. And whether we choose to overindulge or to eat simply, the fact that we have a choice is also affluence. Whether we live in a single family home or palacial estate or studio apartment, those of us who have a roof over our heads and are not worried about ending up in the streets are affluent compared with the 85% of people worldwide who earn less than $2,200 per year and whose lives are less certain.

Affluence is the topic of this month's APLS blog carnival. What does it mean and why is it important? So, as I did with last month's topic, Sustainability, I looked at the derivation of the word to gain a better understanding. Affluent comes from the Latin "to flow toward." Having affluence means that the good things in life flow toward you. But if affluence is flow, then do those of us lucky enough to have been born into great (relative) wealth have a responsibility to keep the waters moving, to sustain (our word from last month) the flow? Or is it our right to dam it up and stop it, thinking we can keep all the goodies for ourselves?

Coincidentally, there is an advertisement on my blog this week for a new documentary film entitled, Flow, which looks at the "growing privatization of the world's dwindling fresh water supply" and asks the question, "CAN ANYONE REALLY OWN WATER?" And in fact, right now my own state of California is fighting the Nestle Corporation in court over its plan to build a water-bottling plant in Siskyou County to capture "1,600 acre feet of spring water per year (and an unlimited amount of groundwater) from the McCloud river under a 100-year contract." Forget about all the plastic bottles for a minute, how does this private company have the right to stop the flow?

Sustaining the flow means directing our resources in such a way that they continue to benefit the rest of the world as they travel from one hand to the next. If we're talking about money, then it means using our wallets to support a healthy world. Not buying the bottled water, just because we can, but choosing organic, fair trade, least toxic products and avoiding those that in some way cause harm. It means that if we make enough money to save for the future, investing in socially and environmentally responsible companies. And it means, to the best of our ability, supporting organizations that are working to create positive change in the world.

There are all kinds of ways we can keep our money flowing to create positive change in the world. But flow is not necessarily only monetary. It's also the time that we have available to live on this planet and what we choose to do with it. I am very fortunate to work only 3 days per week and make enough money to live comfortably (meaning organic food, shelter in a relatively safe neighborhood, a nice computer and Internet access, healthcare, ability to pay for "extras" like concerts and plays and meditation retreats.) I live in a modest rented apartment and don't own a car. But those are choices. I have the luxury of trading free time for material possessions.

For several years, I wondered what it was I was supposed to do with all this free time. I watched a lot of movies. I learned to knit and made silly things for everyone I knew. I trained for and ran a marathon. I planted a roof garden. I learned web programming and made funny flash animations. I got addicted to playing The Sims (a topic for a possible upcoming post) and stayed up many nights in a row making sure my little people ate and showered and peed and slept and chatted so they would be in the mood to go to work and make enough Simoleans to buy new stuff and "move up" in their world. And I came home nearly every night depressed because I felt that all this free time was a gift that I was squandering.

And I was stagnating. The waters were dammed up. The projects I jumped into felt kind of pointless when I considered their impact (or lack thereof) on the rest of the world. And then I found what I thought was my calling. Plastic. This blog. Fake Plastic Fish. And suddenly, instead of keeping all my free time for myself, I was creating a positive force in the world. Not only learning for myself, but passing on what I learned to others. Creating connections. Joining with others. But even this is not the end of the story.

No matter how many good things I had or how many good things I did, there was still me, struggling.

So I'm learning slowly and painfully, there is another kind of affluence that is not based on having anything at all. Money or time or friends or even health. It's the affluence that all of us share: the privilege of simply being. And the recognition that none of us is truly separate from the other, that in reality, there is no other. Whomever and whatever we harm is ultimately ourselves. And when we stand in the way of the flow (or, some might say tao) there is nothing real to win anyway.

For me, it's actually easy to focus on environmental issues and giving to charities and buying organic and petitioning companies and governments and riding my bike instead of driving and volunteering my time because those things build up my ego and give me a sense of self-worth. It's easy to use the affluence I was born into in these ways to make a better world. And it's important. It's my responsibility as a member of the global rich.

But simply being is the greatest affluence of all. And awakening to that fact is truly all that is necessary to save us. All other right actions flow from that source.
 

Suddenly Sustainable

I asked Michael, the Latin scholar, what is the derivation of the word "sustain?" He said "to hold up from underneath." Pretty smart, that guy. The Online Etymology Dictionary says almost the same thing. Why did I ask? Because the topic of the very first APLS blog carvival is, "What does living sustainably mean to you?" So I thought I'd start by digging up the roots.

APLS stands for Affluent People Living Sustainably. I'm one. You probably are too. Think you're not affluent? Check your income on the Global Rich List and then decide whether you are affluent or not compared to the majority of the world. We're not comparing ourselves to the CEOs of Microsoft or Clorox but to the 85% of the world who earn less than $2,182 per year.

The APLS blog carnival will be a monthly collection of posts related to living sustainably in an affluent society. Anyone can contribute, whether you have a blog or not. See the FAQ. And as I mentioned, this month's carnival (which will be published at Better Living on August 15th) asks what living sustainably means to us.

You might assume I'll write about how unsustainable plastic is. It's made from a non-renewable resource, its manufacture often leads to pollution of our air and water, it may contain toxic additives that can leach into our food, and as waste, it lingers in the environment indefinitely harming wildlife and attracting oil-based toxins that accumulate up the food chain. No, plastic is not sustainable, and that's why I am working very hard to lessen my dependence on it and to find plastic-free alternatives.

But that's not really what I want to write about. Because, while plastic is not a sustainable material, avoiding it and blogging about it and campaigning against it might not always be sustainable practices either.

How's that?

Let's get back to the root. To sustain is to hold up from below. From the depths. From the core.

How is it sustainable to stay up all night obsessively blogging and end up too tired the next day to eat a wholesome meal? How long can one last on 4 hours of sleep per night before burning out?

How sustainable is it to become so preoccupied with writing a presentation about environmental issues that one stands in the shower for 20 minutes letting the water flow down the drain until it runs cold?

How sustainable is it to live in an "us vs. them" world in which we are the good guys picking up litter and carrying our own bags and everyone else are the bad guys tossing empty cups out car windows and double bagging each item? How can we live in a world like this without losing our minds?

How can we sustain ourselves and the planet without going crazy?

I'll share with you the deepest thing I learned from my vision fast a few weeks ago. Sitting in the woods, staring at (and kinda chatting with) the eucaluptus trees, I suddenly had the experience of not just being with the trees, but actually being the experience of those trees, the cold breeze, the crackling bark. I realized that without me, this experience would not exist. And that all I am is my experience of the world around me, every day, each moment. And that each moment I have a choice... to fully live it or to hide in my head.

In February, I wrote about loving what is and giving up the struggle against reality. Last month, I had the experience of being reality, of realizing that the only struggle is against ourselves. That's wacky. And it's not sustainable. But it's sooooo easy to fall into again and again.

So for me, what is sustainable is simply practicing being the awareness of my experience each moment and seeing what actions arise from that awareness, rather than planning the actions and carrying them out from a place of frustration or anger or separateness from the reality of life.

Each day, I practice. 10 minutes of meditation first thing in the morning. That may not seem like much, but for me, it sets an intention for the rest of the day. The intention to show up for life.

I'm learning to use the computer as a tool rather than an obsession. When I find myself falling back into compulsive behaviors, I'm learning to sit still and ask what it is I really long for. And when I notice anger arising from someone else's unconscious act, I ask myself what it is that separates him from me and whether the division is real or simply an idea in my own head.

I'm learning how much of the world I experience IS only an idea in my head and how, when I drop assumptions and judgments for a bit, compassion arises for both myself and the perceived "other."

When that happens, when the separation between me and life dissolves, all my actions, whether blogging about plastic or making a Power Point or playing with my kitties or eating chocolate or taking a shower, are suddenly sustainable.
 

I went to the woods...

...because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. Henry David Thoreau, Walden.


I spread a sheet on the ground and set up my chair in a eucalyptus grove overlooking Lake Chabot. I sat in that chair from 12:30pm yesterday to 11:00am today, not quite 24 hours. It was cold and foggy most of the day, and very cold last night. Thank goodness for my mummy bag with hood, which kept me warm enough.

I drank water and listened to the rumblings of my empty tummy. Thoughts were thought and visions beheld, although not of the fantastical burning bush sort. The sound of eucalyptus bark peeling from trees was like a chorus of creeky doors opening and closing, inviting me over and over again to wake up. And the leaves fluttered all night like little birds over my head. After dark, a skunk and I were mutually alarmed by the presence of the other, but after a few seconds of nervous staring, we parted ways (the skunk turned and ran off) neither the worse for the encounter.

That's all I'm prepared to say right now. The deeper experience feels too raw and precious to share publicly... at least for a while. Here are a few more pictures. Yes, I brought my camera, but it spent most of its time in my backpack.

The view from my chair:






Early Tuesday morning:




Lake Chabot from the bench where I sat and ate my lunch Tuesday after fasting for a full day. The best PB&J ever!


 

This doesn't belong on BART!

I've got a busy weekend ahead of me: three days of the Blogher Conference in San Francisco, Michael's sister coming to visit during the same weekend, and then my vision quest retreat on Monday/Tuesday. I plan to blog my usual plastic tally on Sunday night, but we'll see how it goes. In the meantime, I wanted to share a quick story and also let you know about another neat bloggy thing.

A few days ago, I was sitting on BART, reading or something... not really paying much attention to my surroundings. The train stopped at a station and a couple of loud, scruffy guys got off. Suddenly, from halfway down the car, a tall man jumps up, grabs a plastic garbage bag full of bottles and cans, marches toward the open door by me, throws the bag out onto the platform, and yells to the scruffy guys, "This does not belong on BART!" Then he stomped back to his seat, all the while muttering and sputtering and visibly upset. The guys on the platform just took their bag and left.

My reaction: WTF???!!!!!!! What's wrong with this man that he should get so angry when clearly those guys didn't mean to leave a valuable bag full of recycling on the train. Obviously they weren't paying attention and just forgot it. Clearly they had spent a lot of time collecting those bottles and cans and didn't leave the bag on purpose. Hey, guy. Why are you so upset? Maybe YOU don't belong on BART. Yeah, maybe I should throw YOU off the train. How would you like that, Mr. A-hole? You are getting all pissed off just because of a failure of perception. Just because you misunderstand the meaning of a bag of recycling on BART. Why do you choose to assume the worst of people?

And by this time, I'm getting all red and worked up myself, just from the thoughts in my own head. And you guys know where this is going, right? I WAS DOING THE SAME THING AS MR. A-HOLE! I was Ms. A-hole but no one could tell because I hadn't stood up and marched down the train car to make my point. But I could tell from my pounding heart and clenched fist. So I just sat with all the weird contradictions and realized what a tiny piece of perception we each have about the world and how if we're not paying attention in the first place, we can miss oh so much.

This Monday, I'll be sitting in the woods for 24 hours, awake, consuming only water, and paying attention to everything that I can. My vision quest is about finding out who I am without all the things I use to distract myself on a daily basis. I just want to see. No, actually I need to see. What will it be like to be alone in nature with only the thoughts in my own head for a full day? It's a scary proposition, but I think I'm ready.

In the meantime, while I'm dealing with the trash in my own head, check out the latest Blog Carnival on the block: the Carnival of Trash. Created this week by Almost Mrs. Average from The Rubbish Diet blog, the Carnival of Trash will be a monthly collection of blog posts dealing with garbage and finding ways to reduce it, and the Carnival will travel from blog to blog. This month's Carnival of Trash includes some of my letters to companies about excess packaging as well as articles from bloggers you might not yet have heard of. Next month, the carnival will land at Mrs. Green's My Zero Waste blog and in September, I believe the host will be Fake Plastic Fish.

If you'd like to submit a trashy post to the Carnival of Trash (a good way to promote your blog), please use the submission form at http://blogcarnival.com/bc/cprof_4478.html. And if you'd like to host the Carnival of Trash on your blog, contact Almost Mrs. Average and let her know.

Okay, signing off now. Have a great weekend, and if I don't have time to post before Monday, please keep me in mind while you're snug in your beds eating bonbons and slurping up Jamison's Irish whiskey through a straw. Don't think you can hide it. I'm on to every single one of you!
 

Fear of unpunctuated silence, or emptiness sucks.

The Blogger posting screen is blank and white and taunting me. I've been procrastinating starting this post for the last two hours because I'm not sure what shape it should have or how to begin. So I'll just dive in and see where the words lead. Maybe by the time you read this, I'll have deleted these introductory sentences altogether. Or maybe not.

This week, I started letting go of some things. Monday, I uninstalled the Microsoft games from my computers. No more killing time playing Freecell or Spider Solitaire. No more distracting myself while waiting for files to upload or programs to backup. No more splitting my attention with reruns of "House" playing in one corner of my screen and a game of Freecell going in another. I'm letting in a little empty space, and it sucks.

Tuesday, I used up the very last of my fairtrade organic coffee from Peaberry's, washed out my new porcelain coffee cone as well as Organic Needle's organic cotton filter, and stored them on the top shelf of the cupboard. No more charging my battery chemically because I stayed up all night, once again, and have to find the energy to go to work. Don't worry. I'm not a masochist. I'm weening off the caffeine by switching to black tea for a few days and then maybe green, for the antioxidants, of course!

Also, on Tuesday, as I was emptying my backpack of non-essentials in preparation for a long nature walk, I decided to remove the case of prescription drugs I carry around every day for insurance. I'm referring to the big V's: Valium and its friend Vicodin. I've had ongoing prescriptions for these drugs for many years for valid medical reasons, although I lost my Vicodin Rx at the same time I lost my uterus, the painful reason for the prescription in the first place. Still, I had some saved up, and while I rarely felt the need to actually take these drugs, just having them with me made me feel calm and prepared. Like I couldn't be hurt, either emotionally or physically.

After putting the bottles in the kitchen cabinet, I sat at the table and wept.

I sobbed, actually, for about a half an hour. Even though all I'd done was put the bottles away (as opposed to discarding the contents altogether), I felt like I'd removed a limb. And a piece of identity I didn't even know I'd been carrying. Breakable. Fragile. Patient. The drugs didn't take up much room in my backpack, but the knowledge that they were there apparently filled a huge space in my psyche. Now I've created more emptiness and nothing to fill it with but tears.

Or alcohol.

Confession: I've been drinking my household cleaner for the last few months. That's because I like to clean with vodka instead of vinegar. I bought the cheapest stuff I could find in a glass bottle because I hadn't planned on consuming it. But that's what happens at 2am when I'm anxious and agitated and want to wind down. And you know the saying that the definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over hoping for a different result each time? Alcohol NEVER puts me to sleep. It keeps me up. Yet every night, I expect it to do what it's never done before.

So okay, last night I finished the bottle of household cleaner. Tonight, I have no alcohol in the house and have mentally stored that crutch away in the cupboard along with the coffee and pills. Wow. I sound like a total fiend. I was about to qualify all this with a statement about how little I actually drink, but screw that. It's a problem. It's been blocking me from finding out how powerful I could actually be without it, so it has to go. More space. More emptiness. More silence.

I'm giving up these heavy, heavy crutches in preparation for a 24-hour fasting vision quest I'll be undertaking as part of the Integral Life Practice group I recently joined. And all these distractions are just weighing me down. Perhaps I feel such a connection to photos of dead birds full of plastic because I myself feel so heavy I can barely move.

But how can I take care of the planet when I am barely taking care of myself?

These are the thoughts I pondered during my 3-hour walk Tuesday, climbing the Berkeley hills, looking and listening for signs. I envisioned myself as both sculptor and clay, my job to cut out whatever is not me. And then I imagined a candle inside and light pouring through the openings I'd created. The spaces where I could shine a little, and maybe breathe.

The hill I climbed was steep (literally) and shadeless, and the weight on my back and in my brain, discouraging. Suddenly, I heard a familiar sound and looked up to catch sight of two hummingbirds, way up there in the hills, soar straight up into the sky and then dive bomb back down. Over and over they did this together, and once again that day I broke down and sobbed. "I want to fly," I cried out to the wind, "How come I can't fly? Why?"

I'm not making this up. I really did cry out in the "wilderness" of the Berkeley Hills. And of course, I knew the answer. I'm too heavy. All this extra stuff I carry. All the strategies I have for killing time, holding myself back, keeping myself in check. I want to find out who I'd be without those things. I'm really, really ready. And pretty terrified.

Yes, I go to meditation retreats twice a year and sit in silence and practice mindfulness. But the stillness is punctuated by the ring of the bell. The sessions structured and interspersed with meals and a waiting bed. I nap a lot. During my vision quest, I won't be eating food or taking naps or ringing bells. And there won't be anyone to tell me when to open my eyes. It'll just be me and the woods and my bottle of water.

In discussing how hard it is to give up coping mechanisms and routines that we've come to depend on, my wise friend Axelle had this to say:

I didn't answer your question about unpunctuated emptiness. Here it is: If I don't have the structure of seeking food, whether at home or out, and eating it, at regular times, I don't know what to do with the extra time. It's too much space, too much freedom. What I missed when I quit smoking was the structure it gave me, of having to do something (smoke) at certain times. When I no longer had to smoke at certain times, I couldn't handle the freedom, the space.

Why are some of us so afraid to be free? There's a question to ponder on Independence Day while many are compulsively shopping or eating or drinking, accumulating more and more stuff to plug up the emptiness in their lives. Sitting quietly should be the simplest thing in the world. So why's it so freakin' hard?
 

Activism, Religion, & Despair: What Would Jesus Buy?

Last weekend I finally saw the documentary What Would Jesus Buy? on DVD. It follows the crusade of "Reverend Billy" and the "Church of Stop Shopping Gospel Choir" during this past Christmas season as they traveled cross country spreading a message of anti-commercialism, support for local businesses, and hairspray. Well, the hairspray was more method than message, but I digress.

Say what you want about environmentalists taking on the language of the Church to make their points, (and by the way, there's been quite a bit of debate about that very issue this week on the Green Bean Dreams and TallgrassWorship blogs) Reverend Billy's evangelical escapades, offensive or not, grab attention and draw converts to the cause. He exorcises shopping demons from Wal-mart and Disneyland. He gets himself banned for life from Starbucks. He's been arrested more times than his wife Savitri can count.

But flamboyant showmanship aside, what spoke to me as an activist was the group's persistence in the face of a seemingly insurmountable obstacle. Americans love to shop. The opening of the documentary shows footage of customers trampling each other at midnight on Black Friday in their race to get the best deals before everyone else. Everyone wanted either a Wii or an X-Box374rt43gh-something-or-other. And if they couldn't bring it home THIS CHRISTMAS, they might as well not come home at all.

And yet there was Reverend Billy and his choir preaching in the midst of the chaos, singing revised versions of Christmas carols, and smiling at those who would deride them. What does it take to be that kind of person? Balls of steel? A white suit and an entire can of Aqua Net every day? It was hard enough for me to dress as a BRITA filter for the Bay to Breakers, an event where participants are expected to be outrageous. Now, I'm thinking about wearing my costume to the BART station to gather signatures during evening rush hour. Do I have the guts? What will it take to pull it off?

There is a scene in the film which was particularly touching to me. Billy and his wife are alone in their hotel room (except for the camera crew, presumably) feeling exhausted and overwhelmed after a particularly intense action at Wal-mart.

Savitri: [Looking like she's ready to break.] I just don't know if anyone hears us. Or if they do hear us, they so don't want to hear us.

Billy: You look pretty tired.

Savitri: I feel I need for what we do to have an impact on someone. Soon.

Back in November, I left a comment on the No Impact Man blog that Colin Beavan copied (with my enthusiastic permission) as a post a few days later. The title of the post was, "On Caring Without Despairing," and in it, I said:

My dad asked me the other day how I can blog day after day about plastic and not get totally overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the problem. I think part of my coping strategy, and it might be yours too, is selective attention.

I guess I allow in as much information as I can stand in order to understand the problem and then shut it out and focus on what I can do and how I can have the biggest impact and do the most good I can without caving under the pressure.

Not my most articulate moment, but sincere. My feeling at the time was that if I allowed myself to become overwhelmed by the magnitude of the problem, I'd just curl up under the covers and do nothing but drink and eat bon bons. Shortly afterwards I received an email from No Impact Man reader, Brian Morton, who begged to differ with me. He actually sent me a very long essay explaining why despair is valuable and why we should all allow ourselves to feel our despair fully and completely. Here's the last paragraph of his essay. I'd love to know what you think.

A time of black despair is coming, and if you feel like you are drowning in despair be comforted. Despair is a GOOD thing, when it functions properly. Swim in your despair, master it, use it for what it is good for. Use your despair to let go, and set new humbler goals. You are less rich, and less powerful than you think you are, than you are used to being. But you are not without any wealth; you are not without any power. Each breath is riches; each moment is wealth; each choice is power. All work is using our power. Do what work you can, plan, set new goals, and do what good you can. Despair, but do not drown in it, despair to clear a place for humbler goals. Your despair is in reality a valuable friend, helping you to re-prioritize your life, even when doing so is painful and difficult. Despair hurts, but it is a virtue in disguise. The pain of despair is the pain of healing, and adapting to humbler circumstances. All Americans will soon become acquainted with despair. Be assured, despair is a gloomy ally, but it is not in the end your enemy.

So, the question is, how do you cope? What keeps you going in the face of massive problems? As an activist (and I believe that everyone reading this blog is an activist in some way, whether you call yourself that or not) what makes you think you can make a difference? What gives you hope? And what is the role of despair in your life?
 

Some things I learned from my cats...

Just a few thoughts tonight before signing off for the week. I was watching Soots and Arya (or Suit Scenario, as Axelle calls them) examine the common objects of their lives. They chew on cords. They bat at invisible specks. They jump onto the kitchen counter and invariably knock things off. They drag balls of yarn through the house, creating intricate and artistic messes that I have to clean up. They are way too curious about curly CFL lightbulbs for my comfort, and, as I mentioned yesterday, they are ruining the window blinds in their fascination with all things that move, swing, or make noise.

They are terribly curious and examine every object in their world with fierce intensity. And yet as much as they study and even learn the behaviors of certain objects, for the most part, they will never, ever understand why those objects are here in their world and what they are for. They bumble and break things and don't understand what they have done.

And we, as their humans, get exasperated but love them unconditionally. We do understand the purpose of the lamp or the ball of yarn or the pull cord or the cloth pantiliner (oh yeah, Arya loves dragging my freshly laundered cloth pantiliners out of the basket and having her way with them, and Michael loves to let her do it cuz he thinks it's funny and cuz he's the good cop and can't bear to say no.) We know that the cats will never understand, and we love them anyway.

Now think about humans. Aren't we kinda like cats, toying with the universe, poking and prodding and testing and trying to understand, and oftentimes breaking things and creating all kinds of environmental messes in the process? I'm not saying we shouldn't study and try to learn as much as we can. But shouldn't we also admit that the universe is way too complex for any of us to ever understand fully? And shouldn't we have a little humility and awe for the intricacy of the world and quit thinking we can just take it apart and put it back together?

And now I'm going out on a limb here because I have said before that I'm not religious and don't have any specific belief in any god or "higher power." But what if there is some higher consciousness aware of all of this, watching us the way we watch the cats, and laughing and loving us just the same? What if we're all doing exactly what we're supposed to be doing right now? Me blogging about plastic and recycling and eating chocolate and staying up all night. Others driving SUVs or shopping at the farmer's market or logging old growth forests or studying stem cells or mining coltan or tutoring children? What if we're all just doing the very best we can, bumbling along, arrogant or humble or a combination of both? And what if that's okay?

Now don't freak out and think I'm letting anyone off the hook. On a personal level, I'm driven to care for the earth in a particular way and to be part of a movement urging others to learn to care as well. All I'm saying is that there are vast complexities at work in the universe about which none of us has a clue. Why is the universe here in the first place? Not how did it get here, Big Bang and all that, but why? I don't think it's a question humans will ever be able to answer. Just like cats, we can figure out how some things work. We have learned about processes like evolution which explain how everything developed. But I don't think our brains can ever comprehend why the material world should exist at all. So it's nice to feel that perhaps we are part of something big and mysterious that loves and encompasses all of our perfect imperfections.

And now I'm going to take my perfectly imperfect self to bed.

P.S. I killed all the ads for new cars on Fake Plastic Fish, even though they paid pretty well. Did you notice? They were depressing me and not in keeping with the spirit of this site. Toyota doesn't need me advertising the Prius, hybrid or not. I wish I could get Walking and its sister Biking to pay me to advertise. Oh well. I'll settle for Zip Car.
 

Earth Day 2008: Pieces of a World that I Love

Earth Day. I have nothing deep to add to the discussion except these photos that I took today during a walk through my semi-urban neighborhood. I was trying to look at the materials of my world: plastic, wood, cement, glass, cotton, leather, steel, plant, flesh, without judgment or dismay, but simply appreciation. I wish you could smell the coffee at Peaberry's or hear the rush of the traffic from the BART platform. Earth is not just a beautiful blue and green planet in space or some elusive wilderness. It's everything, mundane and profound. And it's every single day, isn't it?

Click to see photos larger. Enjoy.

Confessions of a Greedy Green Blogger

I have a few things to get off my chest tonight. My dad, of course, would disagree and say I don't have much in that department to lose. He's inappropriate that way sometimes. But hey, if Vanessa can write about getting naked with her parents... Oh, dear. I think I'm getting punchy at 2am.

Okay, start again. I do have a confession to make. I have developed Greedy Blogger Syndrome. How do you know if you have GBS? Here are the tell-tale signs:

1. You check Google Analytics, or your analysis tool of choice, 100 times a day to see how many visitors have clicked on your site. When the number goes up, you get happy for 5 seconds. Then, you check it again.


2. You check your Technorati rating 300 times a day to see if there've been any changes within the last 5 minutes. When your rating goes up, you get happy for 5 seconds. If your rating goes down, you get unhappy for 5 minutes until you check it again.


3. You check for new comments on your blog several hundred times per day. When someone writes a nice comment, you get happy for 5 seconds. Then you check and see if anyone else has written something.


4. You worry about being "scooped" by other bloggers who learn new information before you do. (Darn you, Life Less Plastic, for figuring out you can wash dishes with bar soap before I did!)


5. All this checking and worrying and fretting for a few seconds of fake plastic happiness each day inevitably leads to nightly performance anxiety and procrastination and "just one more game of Freecell and then I'll start on my post."


6. And finally, the worst symptom of all is guilt and self-recrimination for having symptoms 1 - 5 in the first place.

If these symptoms sound like you, you could be suffering from Greedy Blogger Syndrome. But don't worry. Help is available! The first step is to stop beating yourself up about being freakin' human. Most of us have learned to be acquisitive in one way or another. Those of us trying to lighten our environmental impact might not crave material possessions or wealth, but we can certainly be greedy in other ways, can't we?

In fact, No Impact Man wrote an excellent post back in August on this very subject: The Unhappy Numbers Game. He too was obsessed with his Technorati rating. At the time I read the post, I was so new to blogging, I had no idea what a Technorati rating even was. Now I know. And I've become as obsessed with my little 150 ranking as he was about hitting his 1500. It's all relative. And no matter how many visitors, comments, or Technorati points we get, there's never a magic point when it's enough. That's the sad fact about this disease as well as the good news about the cure.

Because once you realize what a waste of time all this is, and that you're only doing it because you're human and that it doesn't make you a bad person, you can finally relax and spread some of the love around the blogosphere. Because that's all those numbers really represent, right? Love and approval. So, tonight I'm going to tell you about some bloggers that I think ought to be mentioned:

1) First of all, I updated my blogrolls on the left sidebar and tried to include all the blogs I read on a daily basis as well as those that I read whenever I have the time. They are all worthy. I don't add blogs to my list that I don't actually read myself. The thing about adding blog links to our sites is that it helps increase the Technorati rating for those blogs too. So it's one of the first treatments for Greedy Blogger Syndrome. If I've missed anyone whose blog I read, I apologize. E-mail me if you'd like to be added.

2) Melanie Rimmer at Bean Sprouts (whose blog is now on my blogroll) is one of the most generous bloggers in town. In February, she threw out her Start A Blog Challenge, encouraging more folks to begin their own blogs. A few days later, she linked to her readers' new blogs, and then last week explained how to publicize your blog and get links. Melanie is a Generous Blogger, and she has wicked cool hair, too.

3) Another Generous Blogger is Siel from Green LA Girl and Emerald City. She writes alot of "linky posts" and shares info about bloggers and others who are out here greening up the place.

4) Crunchy Chicken is encouraging all of us to share with young women of Africa in her new Goods4Girls project. If you haven't read about it yet, Goods4Girls has been created to provide new, reusable menstrual pads to young women in areas of Africa where these products are needed most. "Providing reusable supplies not only provides a more environmentally friendly alternative for these young women (in areas of adequate water supply for washing), it reduces their dependence on outside aid organizations to continue providing for their monthly needs." Please visit the site. And in addition to contributing, please consider adding a Goods4Girls badge to your blog to encourage others to join the campaign.

Crunchy Chicken is also generous with other bloggers. See how she generously amplified my... um... anatomy in her latest blog post, Fake Plastique Fish.

5) Elsa Wenzel does double-duty as associate editor for CNet and also as a blogger at The Greener Side. On Feb 7, she included several of us trash collectors in an article called Ecobloggers bring the landfill home. So why didn't I mention this article when it first came out? There were several reasons, but one was that I was a Greedy Blogger and a little miffed that my bit appeared on the second page. Later, when I got over my own ego, I realized how awesome it is that CNet has someone like Elsa working there and reporting on environmental concerns and how great it was for any of us to have been mentioned at all. I was thrilled to find out a few weeks later that this same Elsa would be the host of this week's Carnival of the Green on her own blog.

I have other blogs to write about, but it's very late so this will have to be a two-parter. Tomorrow, I'll post my weekly recipe and Friday I'll link to a guy who is busting bag monsters, a woman who is greening events (and who wrote about our trip to the Jepson Prairie compost facility), an ear-catching story from a local radio station, and more.

In the meantime, I'm going to be compassionate towards the Greedy Blogger in me who is trying to show me that I'm as guilty of overconsumption as those who I might criticize, and that the Bible story about pulling the beam out of your own eye (which seems like it would hurt hella bad) is not just for Sunday School kids anymore.
 

Plastic-free sex, part 2: "Pedro offers you his protection"

Couldn't resist the above. In our house, we quote Napoleon Dynamite whenever possible. Clearly, this post has nothing to do with Pedro, but everything to do with protected sex. And despite the fun title, this post is going to be more serious than yesterday's, so once again, consider yourself warned.

Looking over yesterday's post on using olive oil for lube, I realized it was written from a totally married hetero-centric point of view. Which makes sense, considering this is the blog of a married woman in a monogamous het relationship. I don't worry about whether or not using olive oil will break a condom because, like my kitties, I've been fixed. But you can believe that if I were the parent of a sexually active teenager, I'd be harping on them night and day to use a condom every single time and would make sure they had access to as much water-based condom-friendly lube as they wanted. (Oh, what an annoying, creepy parent I'd be. You readers with young kids, just think what you have to look forward to!)

So, let's talk about condoms. They're made of latex, polyurethane plastic, or natural animal skin. According to Treehugger, the "jury is still out as to whether latex condoms are biodegradable and what effects additives and lubricants might have on biodegradability." Polyurethane condoms are good for people allergic to latex but are not biodegradable at all. And natural animal skin condoms protect from pregnancy but not disease. It's important to discard condoms, latex or plastic, in the garbage rather than flushing them down the toilet and adding them to our already plastic-filled waterways. And all three kinds come packaged in plastic wrappers that are another source of plastic waste. BUT considering the possible alternatives, disease or unwanted preganancy, I would consider condom plastic in the same category as my plastic eyedrop containers or plastic prescription bottles. Why?

Because condoms save lifes. No other form of birth control besides latex or polyurethane condoms protects us from life-threatening diseases like HIV and possibly HPV. And if you think you're sparing the environment by not using disposable condoms to prevent disease (an argument I used to hear in my young activist days), compare the small amount of spermicide and plastic in a few condoms to the toxic drug cocktail you'd be subjected to if you contracted HIV, and I think you'll see which has the greater environmental impact. (And let's take a second to be grateful for those toxic cocktails that are keeping so many people alive.)

Okay, second over. So, what if you're in an adult long-term monogamous relationship and have decided that your risk of contracting disease is small but you're also heterosexual so you need to prevent pregnancy? Burbanmom, in the same post I linked to yesterday, describes how she chose the most eco-friendly birth control method for her. And Treehugger gives a quick comparison of the environmental impact of other alternatives. What does Fake Plastic Fish say?

Choose the most reliable method of birth control that you will actually stick with, and use it EVERY TIME.

This post isn't really about plastic-free sex after all because to me, using any reliable method of birth control every time (unless, of course, you're trying to get pregnant) is one of the most pro-environmental things any of us breeders can do. Even if our chosen birth control method involves a bit of plastic or hormone, the environmental impact is going to be much lower than bringing another human being into the world who will, over a lifetime, consume a lot of energy and generate a lot of waste.

Consider these facts from Population Connection:

• Our world population has grown more since 1950 than it has in the previous four million years. With these additional people come additional demands on our earth: eighty percent of the original rain forests have been cleared or degraded; one-third to one half of the Earth’s land surface has been transformed.


• We lose one or more entire species of animal or plant life every 20 minutes— some 27,000 species a year. This rate and scale of extinction has not occurred in 65 million years.


• Americans are only 5% of the world’s population, yet we consume 25% of the world’s resources. Resulting social and environmental problems reverberate around the world.

And from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services:

• Each year in the U.S., there are over 500,000 children in foster care.


• During 2005, an estimated 899,000 children in the 50 States, the District of Columbia, and Puerto Rico were determined by Child Protective Services to be victims of abuse or neglect.

And from Unicef:

• There are an estimated 133 million children who are orphans (children aged 0–17 who have lost one or both parents) world wide.

Numbers and statistics. But the lives they represent are real. Condoms are disposable. Children should not be. Do I sound like a public service message?

Sorry. I'm not here to give an opinion about how many children each person should bring into this world. And I'm not here to be self-righteous about Michael's and my decision not to have any children. It would be easy, after the fact, to claim that our choice was a sacrifice we made for the environment, but that would be a lie. Our reasons were as personal as those of anyone else deciding whether or not to pass along their genes. And finally, I'm not here to tell anyone what they should or shouldn't do in the case of an unplanned pregnancy.

But imagine a world in which we adults are truly mindful of the consequences of our actions and take measures to be responsible each time reproduction is a possibility. Imagine a world in which nearly every child is planned, cared for, and loved. Yes, accidents happen occasionally. No birth control method is 100% effective except for abstinence and certain medical procedures. And sometimes an unplanned child can end up being the great joy of his/her parents' lives. But in order to be able to take care of each other and the planet, I believe we need to treat the creation of our family with thought and care for its impact on the environment and our society as a whole.

So anyway, tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Let's be safe, smart, and responsible in whatever way we choose to celebrate. Sex talk over. Join me tomorrow for my latest recipe. I promise, it'll be G-rated.
 

Giving up the struggle: stories of ants and cats and hair products gone awry

I was planning to write about DIY hair care products this week. But so far, my experiments have been less than successful. Take, for example, the sugar water hairspray, exhibit left. Here's the recipe:

Dissolve 1 tablespoon sugar in a cup of water. Boil 3 minutes. Be sure the sugar is completely dissolved. Add 1 tablespoon vodka and 2-3 drops essential oil of your choice for scent. Pour into a spray bottle.

The instructions should also have said, "Keep out of the reach of ants!" But then, I guess the writer figured most sane people are aware that sugar attracts ants. Just to clarify, this hairspray ant invasion happened a month BEFORE last week's sugar incident. You'd think I would have learned. And you would be wrong.

So, about the hairspray. It didn't work anyway. Still looking for a plastic-free alternative. But that's not what I want to talk about in this post.

What I want to talk about is letting go of the struggle against reality, accepting things as they truly are, and finding ways to work with the world rather than against it. As I mentioned in my post about the ant invasion, constantly spraying them with vinegar was not working. I was in a never-ending battle with these creatures that was overwhelming and disheartening.

First of all, killing living beings every day is not fun. I'll admit there's a certain satisfaction in wiping them up and washing them down the drain. But it comes from a very dark place, the same as pouring salt on slugs and watching them sizzle or teasing tigers at the zoo. It doesn't make you a nice person. And an FPF reader, who also is one of Michael's co-workers and a Buddhist, was kind of horrified at the idea of mixing borax with sugar. Her reaction made me seriously reconsider anything lethal.

Second, the ants weren't actually invading me. They were trying to escape the rain. We know this because during normal dry weather, the ants disappear from my kitchen and stick to farming the scale on my potted citrus trees. (Ew!)

Third, the ants were in my cupboard and last month all over my hairspray because that's where the sugar was. Perhaps if the sugar were somewhere else...

So I did try the measure that I mentioned in my post: putting a cup of sugar in the cabinet under the sink to attract them away from my countertops and food cupboards. And guess what. It's working! The ants are all over the sugar under the sink (where I can't see them and they can't hurt anything) and almost completely gone from everywhere else. I guess once the rains have stopped for good, I'll start moving the sugar towards the back door and try to lead them back outside. Or maybe they'll just go on their own. We'll see.

Humans have different ways of describing the experience of living with reality rather than the fantasy of life as you wish it were. Going with the flow. Following the tao. Byron Katie, author of one of my favorite books, calls it Loving What Is.

"Loving what is" doesn't mean that when we see injustice or harm occurring in the world we sit passively by and do nothing. What it does mean is that we can work with things as they actually are rather than how we think they ought to be. Instead of thinking, "These ants should not be on my countertop!" I can say, "These ants should be on my countertop because that is what ants do when it rains outside and they have no other source of food. So I'll put some food for them down below and leave my countertops free for my own food." Or some other solution that recognizes the nature of ants rather than the idea of how we wish ants behaved.

Okay, so I learned this lesson a second time this week with my kitties. They are not allowed into our bedroom at night because they chase and bite and wrestle on top of our heads. (Why it is necessary for the wrestling to happen on our heads, we do not know.) So every morning, there are kitties outside the bedroom door scratching and mewing and oh so excited for us to come out and be with them, or at least give them food. And every morning, when I open the door, these kitties rush past me into the room and under the bed, where I spend many minutes trying to coax them out.

Why are they coming into the bedroom? Don't they know I'm leaving the bedroom? Don't they know the food is in the kitchen? Are they stupid? These are the kinds of grumblings that were running through me each morning. Until finally, I realized that I was expecting my kittens to think like people instead of kittens. So instead of trying to coax them out of the bedroom, I simply left them in there, closed the door, and walked away. It only took about 5 seconds before they were scratching on the door to be let out. And zero frustration for me.

So what does this have to do with plastic and environmental issues? Here's the thing. Plastic exists. People use it. People throw it away. It harms animals. It's also extremely convenient and useful. It is reality and no amount of wishful thinking will change that. If we're going to create a world without harm, we somehow have to work with reality the way it is and go from there, rather than grumbling and mumbling and getting angry with people who don't agree with us.

What does that mean? I don't know. I'm trying to figure it out. I do suspect that fighting doesn't work and that there's no winning "the war against plastic" any more than "the war against drugs" or "the war against terrorism." There's only seeing the world as it actually is, working with reality, and creating change from the inside out, starting with ourselves.

It's as my meditation teacher said at the last retreat pointing to his noggin, "The real garbage is in here." Perhaps once we realize that, the rest will come easily.
 

Some things about Hawai‘i that have little to do with plastic

I jotted these words in my notebook on the plane yesterday flying home from O‘ahu as Diamond Head receded in the distance, clouds and water took over the view, and a lump started to form in my throat.

My mom and dad lived in Waikiki in the early 60's, my dad working for the phone company after completing his stint in the navy and my mom having taken a teaching job on the island. Both were recovering from failed first marriages. They met, married, and conceived me. Nine months later, I was born in Maryland, the place to which they moved to raise a family in closer proximity to their parents.

Somehow, although I never actually saw the islands with my own eyes until I was nearly 30 years old, Hawai‘i is inside of me. Maybe it was the Hawai‘ian music my parents played in our house while we were growing up or the photos of my mom performing a hula in her beautiful mu‘umu‘u or their friends from the island who would visit us on the mainland every few years and tell tales of our parents' courtship on O‘ahu, my dad making whatever excuses he could to be close to my mom.

Flying home tonight, I find myself in tears as I listen to the canned Hawai‘ian falsetto music on Aloha Airlines, the airline I continue to choose not because of its environmental policies (I actually have no idea what those might be) but because of the friendliness of their name and the chocolate chip cookies they bake an hour before landing. Hawai‘ian lyrics express a deep yearning and love for home. Hawai‘ian singing often sounds to me like crying. Right now, the sound expresses how I feel.

I am conflicted about my parent's choice to return to this overpopulated, exploited, formerly-wild place, dominated as it is now with fast food restaurants, chain stores, and luxury hotels, bringing with them their love of Costco and Styrofoam dishes. (Styrofoam, by the way, is everywhere on this island, a fact which never ceases to take me by surprise, living as I do in the fairly Styro-free Bay Area.)

That said, I just want to express the deep love and appreciation I have for my parents and for this place, without which I probably wouldn't exist. Mom and Dad had no idea what ripples they were sending out into the world when they joined together here. I'm just grateful that they did and that they are able to live the dream they had when they left over 40 years ago to return some day.

And as the lights of the San Francisco Bay Area come into view, I find myself missing Michael and our kittens and whatever it is we may be unknowingly creating in the world in this new place that we've chosen for our home.

Home.

What is home? Perhaps the yearning to return to my source is what pulled me as far as the West Coast from Maryland nearly 20 years ago. Maybe I'm just being silly and sentimental tonight. Still, maybe home isn't a static place, but something that we are continuously creating as we live and make choices. And if we yearn for a home that is nurturing and caring, then we have to be the nurturing and caring that we seek. (Is that what this business of living without plastic is all about, after all?)

Okay, someone stop me now before I launch into Izzy Kamakawiwo‘ole's version of Somewhere Over The Rainbow. I think I just realized why he recorded that sappy song.

Living in a material world

The holiday season has been over for several weeks now. And for several weeks, I've been contemplating the complaint we seem to hear every year from social critics bemoaning the rampant materialism of our culture. People, they say, care more about buying new things than they do about caring for each other and the planet. These critics decry the commercialism of Christmas. And while I agree that our society has become dangerously acquisitive, I'm wondering if the solution isn't for people to become more materialistic rather than less.

If we really were materialistic, wouldn't we care more for the materials of the world than we do? Wouldn't we spend more time enjoying the material things that we already have rather than mindlessly consuming more? Wouldn't we place a higher value on each item with which we come into contact, considering where it's been and where it will end up when we're finished with it, than thoughtlessly tossing things away as if they never existed in the first place?

A few months ago, I had the privilege of giving a presentation on the do's and don'ts of Bay Area recycling at a Green Sangha meeting. This was during the "practice discussion" portion of the meeting, "practice" meaning a state of mindful awareness and compassion that Green Sangha members strive to cultivate. At the end of my talk, someone asked me how this information informed my practice. At first, the question took me by surprise. But after a few seconds of thought, I realized that having to consider the proper way to dispose of things forces us to slow down and appreciate, be mindful of, the materials that pass through our hands, the matter that sustains us and also gives us pleasure.

I've heard complaints from people when asked to recycle their waste that it's too hard to remember to do and takes up too much time. My gut feeling is that if having to consider the full lifespan of a product causes us to slow down, then perhaps we'll be less likely to consume more than we actually need and learn to appreciate what we already have.

I've also heard of folks doing "gratitude practice" where they silently thank God or the Universe or Fate or whatever for each thing they encounter as they go through the day. As I've said before, I'm not a religious person, my personal feeling being that this amazing physical world that we live in is it for us, so you'd maybe expect me to value the materials of this world. But believers in a Creator of the universe also have every reason to give thanks and to slow down and care for the material pieces of this world as well. After all, if God created them, if they are in fact parts of God, who are we to use and dispose of them recklessly?

My husband Michael, a.k.a. Mr. Linguistics, told me that actually, the word "material" comes from the Latin "mater" meaning "mother." So instead of meaning selfish overconsumption, the word "materialism" ought to mean care for our mother, our Mother Earth, in fact.

Maybe we can learn to savor the small, seemingly insignificant objects in our lives as if they too mattered. Weight loss programs teach us to slow down while eating and enjoy each bite in order not to overconsume. This is a tricky practice for me. I like to wolf down my meal as much as the next person with "food issues." But maybe we'd lighten our bodies and also our impact on the earth if we tried to be more materialistic, not less.

Let's take a breath and consider the paperclip as well as the paper, the cheese wrapper as well as the cheese, the gate hook and also the blister pack in which it was sold, the cat litter as well as the cats, our plastic eye drops container as well as our drops and pain-free eyes, or our filter cartridge in addition to the clean water it provides.

These are all parts of our material world, our mother, our earth. And whether she was designed by a Creator or by random chance, she's the only one we have. Let's honor her, and all her trillions of pieces, by considering more and consuming less.
 

Happy Hoppin' New Year!

After our rockin' kitty New Year's Eve party last night (only kitty-lovers allowed), one of us (me) slept until 1:15pm this afternoon, then somehow managed to crawl out of bed and put together a pretty awesome pot of Hoppin' John, the traditional New Year's Day dish of black-eyed peas and rice. Except, not having a hamhock lying around anywhere, I used this recipe from The Vegan Chef: http://www.veganchef.com/hoppin.htm. So I guess this is a good start to our mostly vegetarian new year.

I think 2007 was probably one of the most eventful years of my life. I began it by running my first marathon on my birthday, January 7, and ended it by adding two new fantastic beings to our household. Along the way, I did some more running, had a hysterectomy, got enlightened about plastic, started this blog, made trips to learn all about where our recycling goes, and joined a wonderful environmental group, Green Sangha.

We can't predict what each year holds in store, but we can create some intentions (as opposed to resolutions) to help guide us in the direction we think we want to go. So with that, here are a few of my intentions/goals for this year.

1. Get more sleep. Okay, this one goes on the list every year, but it never seems to happen. I stay up very late blogging and Internet surfing most nights. So when you think about it, sleep is very good for the environment. When you're asleep, you're not running a computer, or TV, or using lights. You're probably under covers with the heat down lower than when you're awake. You're probably not up eating food that you don't need to be eating and drinking wine that you don't need to be drinking, another way of cutting consumption, as I'll mention again in the next intention. Sleep is just an all-around groovy thing to do. I wish my subconscious would believe that!


2. Eat and drink less. As Michael Pollan says, "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants." I do eat food, mostly plant-based. Dark chocolate and red wine are awesome plant-based foods, right? It's the "too much" part that gets me. So I've joined Crunchy Chicken's Project Nowaste (No Overeating While Attempting to Save The Environment) and am hoping that looking at the way I eat as it affects the planet will help me to cut down on food as I've cut down on plastic.


3. Get back into running. In the beginning of last year, I attempted to join the United States Running Streak Association's group of people who have run at least 1 mile every day for a year. I forgot when I signed up that I'd be having surgery later in the year and unable to complete the streak. And after the surgery, I just didn't have the motivation to start again. So, once I finish with this post, I'm going to go out and do my first mile since I stopped running in September. Running's good for the environment, too. Eco-running (picking up plastic as I run) but also the fact that it requires nothing but a pair of shoes and some lungs and legs. No electricity necessary.


4. Get a bicycle and learn to ride and maintain it. Bikes scare me. I don't know why. Michael has 5 of them. He's also had a few accidents. But really, with a sturdy bike, I wouldn't have to wait for the bus or reserve a Zip Car to run errands across town. So I plan to look for a good, used bike and then take the bike maintenance classes offered by Missing Link so that I'll actually feel confident about riding it.


5. Move my money into socially and ecologically responsible investment funds. I realized that while I'm being really careful these days where I spend my money, I'd forgotten about where the little extra gets invested. So a few weeks ago, I made an appointment with Ian at The Social Equity Group in Berkeley and as soon as I have time to fill out the paperwork, I'll be that much closer to helping create a sustainable world.


6. Get more involved in Green Sangha's Rethinking Plastics campaign. This Thursday night is a strategy session for the new year. I'm looking forward to doing more work with this group to make changes locally (encouraging grocery stores to phase out plastic bags, educating the public about plastics, etc.)


7. Make more field trips to learn about plastic and waste first-hand. Next week, I have plans to visit a landfill and a commercial compost operation, and I'll be reporting back what I learn. I don't know where else my studies of plastic will take me this year. Wouldn't it be great to see the inside of a plastic factory? Or a factory that makes plastic toys? I have no idea how to get into a place like that, but then, when I started this project, I had no idea how to get into a recycling center either.


8. Write an article about plastic for print. My friend, Mea, keeps telling me I should write a book. I'm not ready to think that big. But it would be a good challenge for me to write an article for a magazine. I'd like to try it. The blog is great, but it only reaches people who read blogs. All the people I see carrying their plastic shopping bags are probably not environmental blog readers, but they might read a local paper or magazine. Any suggestions for publications I should approach?


9. Find new blog software and organize Fake Plastic Fish in a way that's easier to navigate. I've sent out the request before. If anyone can help me figure out the best blog software to use and how to set it up, I'd be forever grateful and possibly willing to pay.


10. Meet a few more Fake Plastic Fish readers and bloggers in person. I've met a few of you. I'd love to meet more. Let me know if you plan to come out to the San Francisco Bay Area. I'll buy you a coffee (or tea) in a reusable cup!

So here's me this afternoon with a pile of cats, getting a head start on Intention #1. And now it's time to get out and do Intention #3. See you tomorrow.


 

The Perfection of Imperfection

I was going to post about feminine hygiene today. Don't worry guys. You can read on safely. I'll save that post for later. Instead, I'm inspired to write based on a beautiful post that I read this morning from blogger Chandra Sherin at Moonseeds. I just happened upon it while scanning blogs for the subject of plastic.

Chandra relates a story about being less than perfect in her struggle to find alternatives to plastic. She writes:

I look at the packaging of my breads, chips, toothpaste, apples, vegetables in my hands, and two of my reusable shopping bags are made of nylon which is made with oil, just as the baggies are for dog walks... I realize this... The truth of the situation is that if I were to live separate from plastic, I would not be living in this society. There is no purity, there is no perfection in this world. Our connections are linked and threaded through so deeply, there is no extrication of anything from anything else, at least not as things stand now. This does not mean that everything is futile. Action still has great impact and discernment still has enormous value. Sometimes it has to be “little by little”, as Dorothy Day would say.

And I cannot look at the daily defeats of plastic in my life each day and be defeated. This is an issue that is so urgent that we need to persist despite the thoroughness of its penetration in our lives. What a strange problem we have.

I won't copy the entire post here. I encourage you to read it in its entirety. Chandra is a Christian, which I am not. And yet the way that she describes the interconnections among people and objects in the world transcends specific religions and gets at the universal heart of why we care about the earth.

Anyway, Chandra's post reminded me of my own perfect imperfection Monday night. It was getting late, a little after 6pm, and I'd had a really crappy day. Headache. Sluggish. Cancelled my dental appointment and didn't leave the house or even get dressed. Suddenly, I realized that our company Christmas party was the next day and I didn't have a present for my "Secret Santa" partner. I didn't have time or energy to make something. Crap!

Luckily, I live a few blocks from College Avenue in Oakland, a wonderful street full of small boutique shops. I throw a coat over my pajamas (really!) and rush over to Itsy Bitsy, one of my favorite stores, which carries all kinds of jewelry and small items made by local artisans. "I need a gift for a friend who collects dragonflies!" I cry with desperation, flying through the door 20 minutes before closing time.

The owner is one of the sweetest people ever. Our relationship is purely customer/merchant, we don't even know each other's names, but she gives me a warm smile of recognition each time I shop there and makes me feel at home. So after finding me the perfect dragonfly scarf and bracelet for my co-worker, Jo Anne, she reaches for a gift box. "Oh, no thanks," I tell her, "I have plenty of boxes at home."

"Well, then some tissue paper?"

"Oh no. I have a lot of tissue paper, too. I'll just carry this home in my two hands. I live just a few blocks away."

"Okay," she sighs, and starts to put the bracelet in a tiny plastic baggie.

"Wait," I start, "I don't..."

"To protect it," she says very gently, looking visibly pained that I might carry this precious little bracelet home in just my bare hands. And then it occurs to me that she just wants to give me something. She's taken my money for the items. But she wants to give me something extra, and this is what she has to offer. So I shut up and accept her little plastic baggie in the spirit with which it is given. In this case, having that kind connection with another human being is worth more to me than worrying about the miniscule amount of plastic in that bag.

No, we can’t all be perfect. I try as hard as I can to find alternatives to plastic, but maybe sometimes it's more important to concentrate on positive solutions and human connections rather than to live in a constant state of avoidance. Maybe next time I shop at Itsy Bitsy, I will think to bring my own little protective bag for the object I buy and use the opportunity to share my concerns about plastic packaging in a proactive way that is a gift to her rather than a rejection.

Ironically, my "Secret Santa" recipient, Jo Anne, was also my "Secret Santa." We had drawn each other's names. And intending to give me a non-plastic gift, Jo Anne decided to give me the gift of a night out at the movies (complete with dark chocolate bars to bring to the theater with me.) It wasn't until I had opened the present and thanked her that she had the same kind of "Duh!" moment that has become a constant in my life. "The Cinemark gift card is made from plastic!" she exclaimed! Red-faced, she even offered to take it back and write me a check instead.

But you know what? We can only try so hard. I love the sentiment that went into this gift (and by the way, Jo Anne suggested that I blog about the gift card, so I'm not ratting her out!) and I'm not about to refuse anyone's heart-felt offering in the name of strict environmentalism. After all, what are the reasons for all our environmental actions, if not our connections to one another and the life of this planet? Without connection, what do we have?

Tomorrow I'll get back to blogging about practical plastic alternatives. I guess the retreat and the gift-giving season have me in a more reflective mood this week.
 

The Sounds Of Silence

I'm in slo-mo this week after my long weekend retreat. That's okay. It's more than okay, actually. Most of our modern lives tend to be Rush Rush Rush, and as I've mentioned before, when I'm rushing is when I stop paying attention and end up doing the most harm to the planet.

Green As A Thistle's Vanessa Farquharson is making one "green" change per day for a year. Last month, on Day 254, her green change was to regularly take some time out to sit and be still, with no distractions including TV, radio, music, or anything else but her own breath. One commenter wrote: How is this a “green” change. I really enjoy reading your blog everyday, but I must say that some of your changes are weak at best.

To me, this change is not only not weak, it comes before all others. What I learned on retreat (where there was no Internet, TV, radio, or even talking outside the group dialogs in the meditation hall) is that the garbage comes first from identifying with the mind's clutter and believing the illusion that we are all separate from each other and the planet. When we sit quietly and follow our breath, the mind can still, and we can pay attention to what's around us that we normally ignore in our daily rush.

The sound of crows squawking, rain falling, people coughing, pots banging in the kitchen, traffic rushing a mile away on the freeway, and all the myriad voices of the world that we normally ignore. Sitting still for just five minutes can be painful or blissful, but it gets us in touch with our true connection to ourselves and the world around us. It helps us to realize that we're not separate. And realizing that is the biggest green step of all because how can you pollute the world when you know in your heart that the world is you?

Unfortunately, it's so easy to forget. I forget all the time. The plastic we consume and the garbage that we generate are outward manifestations of our disconnection from the natural world. As my teacher, Jon Bernie, said, pointing to his head, "In here is the real garbage." And the enmity that we create by approaching people in a self-righteous manner about their environmental practices (like writing to companies in a way that's more antagonistic than helpful) is a sign of our disconnection from one another. And yes, I've been really guilty of that one from time to time!

This Saturday, I'm going to attend the final session of my "Rethinking Plastics" training with Green Sangha in San Rafael. The training teaches us not just the facts about plastics but also how to communicate with others in a way that fosters connection rather than anger. Here is the planned sequence of the day. I share this schedule in case readers in the SF Bay Area are interested in taking the training themselves. If so, please contact me directly (my e-mail address is in my profile) for more information.

• Introductions.
• A look at the ubiquity of plastics, and their impact.
• Relaxing in the face of crisis. We will use exercises in somatic movement and awareness as entries to the art of meditation.
• Informing, encouraging, inviting. How do we get people to talk with us about the harmful effects of synthetics and non-biodegradable materials?
• Framing a presentation. In pairs we will develop sample introductions of a topic in rethinking plastics – openings that will grab our listeners’ attention.
• The art of question-asking. Strategies for engaging people in dialogue, for eliciting their knowledge and perspective, and encouraging deep thinking.
• Listening from the heart. Non-verbal signals of warmth and interest. A model for building empathy.
• Making the call. Choosing companies, stores, officials, schools, and clubs for outreach.
• Letting it all go. A reflection on the Green Sangha principle of activism, “Holding our roles lightly.” The story of Peace Pilgrim. Somatic meditation.

The challenge for me is the last one, "Letting it all go." Letting go was actually the biggest challenge for me during the retreat this weekend. I thought I'd be able to get away from thinking about plastic for a few days and just breath and relax. What I didn't realize was that I can't actually drop the thoughts of plastic because I didn't grab them in the first place. My awareness of plastic and our responsibility to the earth has become a part of me. I didn't actually choose to focus on this issue, as I wrote in my post Tales of an On-again Off-again Activist, the issue chose me.

At first, I was disheartened by the negative thoughts I had during the first day of the retreat, wondering how much plastic was used to prepare the delicious food we were served, huffing (silently, of course) about whether or not the food scraps were composted, noticing with irritation the anti-bacterial hand soaps in the bathrooms and the chemical aerosol air fresheners in each toilet stall. That last one bothered me so much, I systematically went into each unisex or women's bathroom (didn't have the nerve to go into the men's) and hid the air fresheners in the back of the cabinet under the sinks!

This is commonly what happens during these retreats. I spend the first day or so experiencing and sometimes trying to fight my own internal crap. And eventually, the fight subsides as I move into true acceptance and even love for the crap. Yes, love for the crap. Which doesn't mean giving up on action at all. Look at the Dalai Lama, after all. He's a pretty accepting guy. Yet look at all the activist work he does. And there's the key. Noticing harm in the world, feeling and accepting the pain that comes up, acting to create positive change, and then letting go.

(And speaking of creating change, I did end up leaving a nice note to the retreat center asking them to consider bringing back the all-natural hand soaps and air fresheners they used to use. And I also found out that they do actually compost their kitchen scraps!)

Anyway, several years go, I created a little meditation room web page for me and a few of my friends and co-workers to go to during the day when feeling stressed at work. It lets you choose a 1-minute or 5-minute silent meditation and sounds a bell at the beginning and end of each. Here's a link to it if you think it might be of use during your day. The link at the end of the meditation is broken at this point. But my friend Mark tells me that the page itself still works: http://www.coloringthevoid.com/meditation_room/meditation_room.htm.

What strategies do you use to find your center and stay connected in this crazy world? I'd love to hear your stories.
 

Holiday gifts and Mindfulness at the Movies

I'm being inundated with articles about "greening" your holidays. Smugly, I thought I had my holiday gift-giving plans all figured out. The season is fairly simple in our house since we don't have children (although we may have kitties by Christmas!) and both of us are non-religious. That said, we do have families and friends with whom we exchange some gifts, nieces and nephews. And they are spread out across the country, so there's a lot of transportation involved in sending gifts.

Perusing the multitude of green gift guides I've received so far (The Green Life Holiday Gift Guide from the Sierra Club is a great summary!), I kept coming across the idea of sending gift certificates for events rather than tangible presents that have to be wrapped and will eventually end up as waste, not to mention the fuel used for shipping them. Gift certificates sounded like a great idea to me. Specifically, movie tickets.

I just placed an order with AMC Theatres (only because that chain seems to exist in nearly every city where I have family) for a gold 50-ticket discount package. (If you're on my gift list, you just found out what you're getting this year!) What a great plan, I thought. Each ticket is good for any movie on any day. And unlike movie theater gift cards, these tickets can't be used for snacks and sodas and all the associated plastic waste.

It wasn't until I clicked the final "Purchase" button that I realized my mistake. I was focusing on the plastic waste from the movie food. But what about the movie itself? Gack! I love the movies. And movies are plastic. What's a movie-loving, plastic-avoiding environmentalist to do?

Exactly one year ago, UCLA published a study called Sustainability in the Motion Picture Industry. You can download and read the entire study in PDF format here.

The study found that in addition to the huge amount of energy used and greenhouse gases produced by the film industry, Kodak produces 35 million pounds of plastic film stock annually. And of that, only 10 million pounds are recycled. But what the authors mean by "recycled" is that it's either made into new plastic film base or used as fuel. So most of the new film stock is made from virgin plastic. According to the report:

Kodak does not charge for this recycling service, considering it part of the company’s zero-landfill policy.77 FPC, under the leadership of Barry M. Stultz and Milton Jan Friedman, was awarded an Award of Commendation by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences on March 4, 2000, in recognition of their pioneering role in film recycling.78 One major factor underlying the studios’ cooperation in film recycling and hence of FPC’s business success lies in the anti-piracy value of properly recycling old film stock, not just the environmental benefits.79

If their main concern is piracy, then perhaps they are more motivated to destroy the information on the film than to save materials through actual recycling, and using the old film as fuel would accomplish that objective. The report goes on to say:

Some efforts are in place to reuse film, or to reduce consumption altogether. Sony Pictures launched a program to reuse trailers, the film previews shown before the main feature in a movie theatre. Theatres can send trailers to National Screen Service, which in turn will distribute these trailers to discount and second-run theatres to be reused. Only trailers which are too worn out are sent to FPC for recycling.80

At least one major studio requires use of digital technology for 90-95 percent of all film projects, as they are easier to distribute than the traditional “dailies” and easier to archive, hence drastically reducing the amount of film stock consumed in the first place.81

Okay, so I already purchased the tickets. And if you think about how much plastic is in a movie reel vs. how much plastic would be in the DVDs if each person who watched that reel in the theater bought the DVD instead, the theater tickets are probably the better choice. And movies are a communal experience in this age of individual video games and iPod downloads. But this is all rationalizing.

Pretty much every activity we engage in consumes some energy and resources. The point is to consume as mindfully as possible. Remembering the energy and plastic that goes into each movie might help us to be more selective about the films we choose to watch. Each time we sink into our seats in a darkened theater and the previews start, might we be a bit more aware of all the effort that went into putting the presentation together so that it could be savoured?

There was a time when I consumed movies as if they were M&Ms. I was on the Netflix 7-at-a-time plan, and I was the only one in my household watching movies! Every Oscar season, I would race from theater to theater to see as many of the nominees as possible before Awards night. I sat through Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, for crying out loud, just because it was nominated for some sound and editing awards. And the truth is, I hardly remember any of these films.

The few that do stick in my mind touched me in some profound way so that I not only remember the movie, but also where I was, who I was with, how I felt, possibly even what I was wearing. (Okay, not what I was wearing.) Watching Finding Nemo, I kept thinking, "I don't want this to ever end!" And I sat through Chicago hugging myself with happiness. I cried so much during my first viewing of The Hours that I had to see it a second time to decide if it was really as profound as I thought or if I was just hormonal that day. Donnie Darko and Fight Club picked at my brain with their dark rhythms and Jennifer Hudson's performance in Dream Girls nearly shattered my heart. Darren Aranofsky's The Fountain, while booed at Cannes, left me in a puddle in my chair, while Napoleon Dynamite left me with a million memorable lines and a craving for tater tots.

The movies I remember are not necessarily profound films, but I do think they are all films created with a certain amount of care and attention and love that is actually nourishing to the psyche. Instead of consuming these films like a McDonald's cheeseburger, I've savored them over and over like a full-course meal. And maybe if we approached everything in the world, plastic or not, as if it really mattered, tasted our food, paid attention to our bodies, listened to the attendant selling us tickets; if we lived our lives like we mean it rather than just biding our time; maybe over-consumption would simply lose its appeal and we'd enjoy less with more gusto.

What do you think? I'm heading to Netflix now to reduce my plan from 4-at-a-time to 3. And a month or so from now when the Oscar nominees are announced, I'll resist the competitive urge see every nominated film merely to win the annual Oscar pool among my friends. And maybe movies won't be made from plastic some day. Still, I'd rather live as if they were a resource to conserve rather than squander. I hope I can learn to treat all of life that way.
 

MySpace, my Blog, my Face, and my friend Red.

04/07/09 Update: Well, I've had this MySpace account for a year and a half, so I think I've given it a good shot. Didn't work out. More annoying than helpful. So I closed it tonight. I much prefer Facebook.

Every time I talk to my friend Red about my blog, he asks me why I don't get a MySpace page. "Feh!" I answer. "Feh!" Not because I think MySpace is a terrible thing. But because I don't like not being able to format my site exactly the way I want it to look. And because I've seen so many fugly looking MySpace profiles. And because I can't control the advertising on there.

Well, tonight I finally caved in and did it. So I don't have a great post about plastic today because I spent all of my blogging time creating my MySpace page. It's at http://www.myspace.com/fakeplasticfish. Red says anyone who wants to draw an audience to their site nowadays has got to have a MySpace page. And it turns out that most of the environmental organizations that I support do have a presence on MySpace.

So if any of you are on MySpace, feel free to befriend me. I already have 10 friends after one day. And if you have suggestions for how I could make the page more appealing, I'd love to hear that too. I'm not planning on spending oodles of time on MySpace. I just want to use it as a way to get people over to this site to read about plastic.

And since I'm asking for advice, can any of you tech-savvy bloggers give me some advice about blogging software? Right now I'm using Blogger, but since I host my own domain, I can't use a lot of the new tools that Blogger has installed. What blog software is better? Typepad? Wordpress? I just want to be able to make my site more easily navigable so readers can find the specific information they're looking for.

And finally, here's another question to throw out to the group: Anyone have advice about plastic-free cosmetics? Marika asked me that question the other day and I really didn't have a good solution. I confess I'm a very low maintenance girl. I put on makeup maybe once or twice per month, if that. The cosmetics I already had before I started this plastics project will probably last several more years. (Okay, I know you're not supposed to keep cosmetics that long because of bacteria and whatnot. But honestly, I'm 42 and I haven't gotten a terrible infection so far, so I'm not that worried.)

I do know about the Cargo Plant Love lipstick that comes in a corn-based container and whose outer carton is embedded with flower seeds. Has anyone found a good alternative for blush? Eye shadow? Liner? Mascara? And whatever else people put on their faces to look glamorous?

When I was in junior high and high school, I would begin every year religiously making up my face and styling my hair in the morning. After the first month or so, my appearance would gradually go back to its natural state. I thought it was just because I was lazy. But you know, when you're avoiding plastic, natural is the easiest way to go! And also, you won't have people looking at you funny when you show up to work without makeup if they rarely see you with makeup on in the first place. My co-workers make a big deal when I wear a little lip gloss and eye liner. I guess it's kinda nice that way.
 

Tales of an on-again off-again activist

Last month, in my Green Sangha meeting, we were discussing how hard it can be to have compassion for people who just don't seem to care about the planet and how easy it can be to feel self-righteous. I piped up and said that I don't really understand how people change, how they go from not noticing or caring about waste and environmental degradation to waking up and realizing what effect their actions have. I don't understand because up until June of this year, I myself was one of those people who bought and threw away hundreds of plastic water bottles, chose plastic bags over paper (and doubled them on purpose), and stocked up on frozen foods in their cute little plastic containers. And then something happened, I had a realization, and suddenly I couldn't go back.

The thing is, I'm not really sure just what that something was. I've tried to remember my first "aha!" moment, what it felt like, where I was. I think I may have been in the shower when it happened, but I'm not even sure about that. All I can come up with are a series of fortunate events that happened to coincide. Still, I do want to try to figure it out because I believe that if we can each remember how it felt before we gained our own awareness of nature and our connection to the earth, we can find a way to approach other people from a place of common understanding rather than confrontation.

So here goes. First, let me backtrack a bit. I grew up in a liberal Democratic Mormon family. Sound like a contradiction? It kind of is. My dad was probably one of the very few Democrats in our church, one of the only members who voted for Jimmy Carter, and who in his youth had bucked the conservative views of his own family in favor of labor unions and civil rights. Still, the Mormon church did instill certain conservative values in my parents, standards I chafed at as a teenager. Once I was out of college and on my own, I yearned to do something radical, become an activist, fight the power!

I scanned the Washington Post classifieds for jobs under "Activist." I really didn't care what kind of activist job I got, as long as it was left-leaning and would piss some people off. So in the summer of 1987, I got a job as a canvasser (read "fundraiser") for Clean Water Action, only because it was the first interview I went on and they offered me a job on the spot. (I didn't realize then that pretty much everyone who interviewed for a job as a canvasser got hired on the spot!) I could have just as easily worked for Sane Freeze (now known as Peace Action) or Public Citizen or Greenpeace or MaryPIRG. The issue was not as important as the identity I had chosen for myself.

Still, I did learn a lot about environmental issues that year. I remember trying to get my parents to recycle and to eat tofu (something my dad never lets me live down) even then. I even remember becoming infuriated when Tampax came out with plastic applicators as an alternative to cardboard and urging others in my organization to write letters of protest. I remember hearing about PVC and Styrofoam and Dioxins and incinerator emissions. That was 20 years ago, and we're still dealing with these issues!

My stint as a cavasser for Clean Water Action lasted a whole year and a half. That's ages in canvassing organizations where the turnover is fast and furious. Knocking on doors and asking for money is hard work, especially when most of those doors get slammed in your face. Maybe it was actually the Mormon culture of missionary work in which I was raised that kept me going as long as I did. Finally, after meeting a few people from San Francisco and visiting The City a couple of times, I decided I'd had enough of DC canvassing and moved to California. I canvassed for The California League of Conservation Voters for a few months before giving up and moving on to more exciting things.

So how did I lose my budding awareness of environmental issues? Why did I stop caring? For one thing, I got caught up in a whole host of other issues: feminism, gender politics, GLBT rights, AIDS activism (which was the hot topic in SF at that time.) I tried on all kinds of hats and identities, as most of us do in our twenties, and somehow, after being poor and idealistic for too long, I got burned out and took a job as an accountant for a wine company. I went to accounting school. I moved to the suburbs for a year and learned that shopping malls were fun. When I moved back to The City, I'd pretty much forgotten about environmental issues altogether.

And what I'm realizing as I write this is that our environment, our world, our planet, was just an issue to me at that time. It was a cause. A fight. An identity to wear until something more intriguing came along. And canvassing for an organization, I have to say, can suck the spirit right out of you. In fact, as I was browsing the web tonight, I came across a review of a book entitled, Activism, Inc.: How the Outsourcing of Grassroots Campaigns Is Strangling Progressive Politics in America, by Dana R. Fisher, which is pretty damning of the whole canvassing model. And I have to admit that some of the statements in the article really resonate with me. The scripts; the dollar quotas; the pressure to "get the money and move on" when you'd rather have a genuine conversation with someone; and the disillusionment of discovering that while part of your job description is public education and activism, fundraising is the only part that determines whether or not you get to keep your job. Perhaps the burnout I suffered from canvassing contributed to my lack of enthusiasm for environmental concerns. I kind of stopped giving a crap.

Okay, so fast forward twenty years. I'm married, no children (by choice), working only three days per week. I've got a lot of extra time on my hands and nothing to do with it. I've tried to fill it with one obsession after another: gardening, knitting, movies, books, web design and flash animation, music, and the last one was running. I kept up the running for about a year, completing a marathon on my birthday this past January and continuing to run after that.

And then in June, I had a hysterectomy.

Somehow, I attribute my sudden awakening to that operation. For one thing, I was stuck in the house recuperating for a few weeks and couldn't run or do much of anything besides listen and think. Here I was, 42-years old, and while I'd decided years ago that I wasn't going to have children, that decision was suddenly a fact. This body never will produce a child. I'm not going to commit the one creative act that women have done worldwide for millenia. So, if not a child, what will I create instead?

It was during this time that I heard an interview with Colin Beavan, the No Impact Man, on NPR. He and his family are striving to live for one year with zero negative environmental impact. His story intrigued me, so I visited his site, where I was led to that of EnviroWoman, a Canadian woman who'd decided to live plastic-free for a year. And it was from her site that I stumbled upon the article, "Plastic Ocean," and its devastating photo of a dead albatross filled with pieces of plastic. That image is now burned into my brain. I can't pass by plastic bottle caps on the street without thinking about it and picking them up. A few days later, Fake Plastic Fish was born.

And because of the effect that photo had on me, I can't understand how anyone can view it without being permanently affected.

And yet I can.

Because until that particular day, I must have seen hundreds of terrible environmental images and simply ignored them or chose not to see. I watched An Inconvenient Truth and was moved by the cartoons of polar bears swimming to death but not enough to do anything about it except change a few lightbulbs and e-mail my city councilwoman. Blame it on hormones or existential angst or random chance; factors came together the day that I saw that photo, such that its power touched me on a profound level. In a way that I believe (I hope) will never go away.

So, that's my story. I'm not saying that we have to wait for each person to have their personal epiphany in order to change the world. The environmental mess we're in won't wait that long. We need to take action sooner than later. And we do need environmental organizations working on the big political and legal issues in order for change to occur fast enough for our planet to continue to be friendly to humans and other living creatures. But having compassion, being able to see bits of ourselves in others' reluctance to act, might help us to communicate with each other in ways that are productive rather than antagonistic. And whether or not we solve all of our environmental problems before it's too late, we ourselves will be able to live in a more peaceful world while we still have it.

So what are your stories of ecological enlightenment? Clif shared his in a beautiful and thoughtful comment on the post, Rethinking Plastics, last week. I encourage you to read it and then to share your story here. We can all use some inspiration!
 

Rethinking Plastics

No, I'm not rethinking whether or not to buy or use plastic. That's just the title of the class I started tonight through Green Sangha. During the course, we not only learn a lot about plastic, its properties and problems, but also the best ways to present the issue to others. Next week, we'll have a special guest chemist who can explain the science behind different plastics. Having received one of the only D's of my life in this subject, I really need this one!

What I was left with tonight was the Green Sangha principle that everyone does the best they can with the knowledge they have. In presenting the history of plastic, Stuart Moody, the instructor, said some very nice things about some of the inventors of early plastic, praising the developers of Tupperware and saying they were people we'd enjoy having over for dinner. They didn't know what problems their products would cause in the long run. If they had known, they probably would have acted differently.

I said that whereas I could feel compassion for those early pioneers because they were acting out of ignorance, I have a very difficult time finding any compassion for the people that do have the information about the harmfulness of their products and push them anyway. And Stuart reminded me that those out there doing harm to our environment in the face of this information are also acting out of ignorance and illusion, the illusion of separateness.

Of course they are. Of course. Who would pollute a river if they truly felt that the river was part of themselves? Who would operate a factory in which their workers were exposed to toxic chemicals if they understood that they and the workers are all part of the same world body? Who would engage in a business that caused the deaths of hundreds of thousands of creatures if they realized the connection between themselves and all other life forms on the planet?

Stuart's presentation began with what I recognized from my Mormon upbringing as a conversion story, a testimony. He talked about the night that he woke up to how much plastic there is in our everyday lives. I've been meaning to write my own conversion story in a post on this blog, but just haven't yet found the words to do it because in many ways, I don't understand how it happened. A series of factors came together, I heard and saw the right things at the right time, and all of a sudden, I was an activist.

But maybe some of you do have the words to explain how it was you first became aware of either the problems of plastic or environmental issues in general. Please share. I'd love to hear your stories.
 

Learning to share (and borrow)

This weekend, I had a conversation with my dad about what to do with certain possessions if he rented out their condo in Hawaii. "I'd have to store a lot of books," he said. And it got me realizing that one of the best ways to reduce our consumption, plastic and otherwise, is through borrowing and sharing items that we don't need access to on a regular basis.

I understand his attachment to books. They are part of his identity. And for English major me, some books do have sentimental value. But the majority of the books that I read do not. For a while, I was buying used books and then Freecycling them. But then Michael got his library science degree, and suddenly the idea of borrowing rather than owning became an option I hadn't considered since elementary school. So now, when I want to read something, I try to borrow it from the library or from a friend before thinking about whether I want to purchase it.

But libraries are not just for books these days, or even just videos and CDs. Many cities have tool lending libraries, either as part of the public library system like here in Oakland, or as part of the Public Works Department. Wikipedia has a list of tool lending libraries in the world. I'm not sure how comprehensive it is. Maybe your town has one that's not listed. The beauty of Wikipedia is that anyone can update it.

I've seen posts online that claim that the average power drill gets used anywhere between 3 to 20 minutes during its entire lifetime. Why does every family need to have their own power drill (or table saw or belt sander) when many people could share the same piece of equipment easily and with much less cost to the environment?

If you don't have a tool lending library, think about borrowing tools or appliances from friends. A few weeks ago, I ran out of ground cinnamon but found some cinnamon sticks in the back of the cupboard that had never been used. If only I had a spice grinder or even a coffee grinder. I placed an ad on Freecycle and looked for a used one at Goodwill. Then, it occurred to me that even if I found one, I'd probably only use it a couple of times. So I asked my friend, Nancy, and sure enough, she had one to lend. I got my ground cinnamon and one less plastic item to clutter my kitchen.

I think borrowing from friends sometimes is good for us. It can be humbling for those who like to feel that they are self-sufficient. And a little humility is not a bad thing in a world full of entitled individuals consuming far more than they need. Of course, being willing to share is also important, as is taking care of what you borrow and getting it back to its owner in a timely fashion!

But back to libraries. Another hunk of plastic you can avoid buying is a personal computer. Now, Michael and I do have our own computers which we use every day. But Michael's mom uses the computer at the local library, and another friend of mine only uses the computer at her job. For those people who aren't as cyber-addicted as me, borrowing computer time might be a great resource-, as well as money-, saving option.

And finally, the biggest hunk of plastic that Michael and I share rather than own is a car. For those of us who live in urban areas with excellent public transportation, owning a car can be an expensive pain in the butt. And renting cars is a hassle, what with waiting in line and filling out paperwork each time. Instead, we belong to Flexcar, one of the three car-sharing companies in the Bay Area (along with Zipcar and City Car Share.) We borrow the car once or twice per month for shopping or driving somewhere inaccessible by BART or bus. It's way less expensive than owning a car and we save a ton of plastic in the process. Check out this cNet article about the increasing use of plastics in cars.

What other things do you borrow or lend that I haven't thought of? Reducing the amount of stuff I collect is a big part of this project and any suggestions for ways to borrow rather than own are welcome!
 

Recommended: Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

I just finished listening to this book on BART tonight. It was the selected title of Crunchy Chicken's book group just before her husband got very sick. I couldn't find it used or at the library, and I'm trying very hard not to buy new things. So I purchased the unabridged audiobook from iTunes and downloaded it onto my iPod. This audiobook, which is read by the authors, Barbara Kingsolver, her husband Steven, and daughter Camille, has been a pleasure to listen to.

The book is all about their family's year of eating locally, growing a lot of their food on their Virginia farm, and purchasing almost all of the rest of it from local farmers. It begins and ends with asparagus and in between are bushels of chard, zucchinis, tomatoes, and some pretty funny turkey sex. This book, as well as Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma, have really gotten me thinking about where my food comes from and who I'm supporting with my food choices.

After work tonight, I stopped at Safeway. (Much more on Safeway in a future post.) I saw avocados for sale and knew, based on a discussion with a vendor at my farmer's market two weeks ago, that they could not be local. Sure enough, they were imported from Peru. We won't have local avocados again until January. I also saw asparagus and knew, based on listening to Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, that it also could not be local. And sure enough, it was also imported. Asparagus is a spring-time plant.

What does this have to do with plastic? Maybe nothing. But it has everything to do with petroleum. The further our food has to travel, the more petroleum is used and greenhouse gases emitted. And often, storing produce for the long haul does involve plastic. Think bagged salad greens and spinach and broccoli.

Barbara Kingsolver's family ate really well all year round. They just didn't eat anything until it was in season. And for me, living here in the abundant San Francisco Bay Area where winters are mild and we have year-round farmers' markets, eating locally should not be hard at all.

What it requires is preparation. A little weekly planning. Which I'm not used to. In the years before Fake Plastic Fish and my growing awareness of how my actions affect the world around me, planning my meals was not an issue. I'd stock up on frozen Lean Cuisines for the days when no one in my office felt like ordering pizza or Chinese. Now, feeding myself takes a little more effort.

This week has been tough, plasticly speaking. I've been doing a few too many things and not getting enough sleep, which always spells plastic trouble. Yesterday, not having brought the best meal to work with me, I went in on the group sushi order and ended up with an unexpected Styrofoam clam shell! (Even after specifying that I wanted cardboard.) And today, in a fit of hormones or something, I asked someone to bring me a chocolate bar and ended up with a plastic Hershey's wrapper.

I do need to slow down and breathe. But I also need to give myself a break. One of the most inspiring parts of the Animal, Vegetable, Miracle audiobook comes at the very end during an interview which is tacked on after the actual book reading is over. Kingsolver says,

It's not an all or nothing proposition. As Steven said in his first sidebar which he called 'Oily Food,' 'If every U.S. citizen ate just one meal a week composed of locally and organically-raised meats and produce we would reduce our oil consumption in this country by over 1.1 million barrels of oil every week.' That's a huge change.... So small changes have enormous impact, and small steps in a particular direction enable more steps for yourself and others, so anything you do in a direction that feels sensible, that feels sustainable to you is a step that you should honor....

Every single thing you purchase, whether you eat it or not, has an impact on the world you live in. You can attend to how it was made and what happens to it after you throw it away.... Attending to your cleaning products, your lawn care, your electrical consumption... all of these things are related to a way that you want to live in the world, whether or not you believe it will make a difference in the long run, it will make a difference for you.

My dad asked me a few weeks ago how I could do this blog and not feel completely defeated. He likes to send me doom and gloom e-mails about the state of the world. The truth is that we don't actually know if any of our actions will stave off some of the more dire predictions. What matters is right now, how we are to each other and the planet in each moment. Living in the present rather than the future. And the proof is in the plastic. When I get going too fast and forget the present moment, plastic bombards me from every direction. It's the ultimate symbol of disconnection and mindlessness.

The antidote is awareness, presence, connection. Let's help each other to wake up.
 

Plastic Art

Watch this video. It's kind of a horror show because we know how detrimental this plastic will be to wildlife when it finally detaches from the fence, and there's not much we can do about it. But it's also kind of beautiful because, well, just watch how the sheets blow in the wind like that grocery bag in American Beauty. I have no idea where this plastic came from. I recorded the video on July 13 from the platform of the Rockridge BART station, and today about half of the plastic is still there, blowing as the cars race by on Highway 24.


This painting hangs on my wall. My brother, Will Terry, made it. He's an illustrator. He uses acrylics, plastic paint, for a living. His work is lively and beautiful... and plastic. The work itself may not pollute like the plastic blowing on the fence, but the production of the paint undoubtedly caused some environmental destruction.

I don't have anything wise or even ironic to say about these things tonight. We live in a world full of contradictions. There are no absolute rights or wrongs. I believe we are all just doing the best we can with the limited knowledge and resources that we have. I have to go to bed now and get up early to help out some friends involved in a terrible car accident yesterday. And I may not have time to write tomorrow.

I guess I'm just awed by this universe where the terrible and beautiful collide every day, and most of us survive and carry on without noticing until something jolts out of complacency. Good night. Don't forget to look around you tomorrow. And breathe.
 

Weekend Discussion: 8 Random Facts

Britt Bravo of Have Fun * Do Good tagged me to participate in the 8 Random Facts About Me Meme.

At first, I wasn't sure I wanted to participate because it felt like a chain letter. But since I usually throw out a discussion question on weekends, I thought it might be fun for readers to comment with any number of random facts about themselves. If you do choose to leave a comment, please tell us at least your first name.

Okay, the rest of this post will follow the instructions for the meme. At the end is a list of blogs that I am tagging. Please know that there is absolutely no pressure to participate. If you are too busy or don't like this kind of stuff, just ignore it.

First the rules:

1) Post these rules before you give your facts

2) List 8 random facts about yourself

3) At the end of your post, choose (tag) 8 people and list their names, linking to them

4) Leave a comment on their blog, letting them know they've been tagged.

Then the facts:

1. When I was in first grade, I wrote my first play called "Ploshin, Ploshin." That was how I spelled "pollution." It was about three kids, Beth, Betty, and Billy, who noticed all this litter on their street and sang an original song while picking up the trash together. We tried to perform it in my class, but I hadn't thought up a melody for the song, so we all ended up singing something different. This was the beginning of my environmental consciousness and also love for karaoke.

2. My favorite dessert as a little kid was a tiny bit of ice cream covered in mounds of Hershey's fudge sauce. My grandmother was the only one who let me have as much fudge sauce as I wanted. She served it in little green china bowls. When she died, the bowls were passed on to me, and I still use them for eating ice cream.

3. I have two sisters and two brothers. The youngest, David, has Down Syndrome. He lives with my parents and calls me regularly to discuss plans for his next birthday party, whether it's a week away or a year away.

4. I met my husband Michael online, but not through a dating site.

5. I get obsessed with certain albums and play them over and over until I can't stand listening to them anymore. One album that I doubt I'll ever get tired of is Demon Days by the Gorillaz. I'm serious. Nothing else comes close. Not even Radiohead.

6. My first job was at McDonald's when I was seventeen. McDonald's was a big treat for us when I was growing up. And I confess that I still get some overwhelming cravings for double cheeseburgers once in a while, even though I know all the reasons that the mainstream beef industry sucks.

7. I'm a sucker for karaoke. Luckily, Michael is too. In fact, we had our wedding reception in a karaoke bar. We sang a duet to a version of "Suddenly Seymour," but we changed the lyrics.

8. Try, try as I might, I can't completely get over my obsession with Madonna.

I'm tagging:

Least Footprint
Just Ducky
Plasticless
First Grade Rocks!
Conserve Plastic Bags
Urban Botany
Make-A-bag Along
Note To Self
 

Information and chocolate. I need some sleep!

For weeks I've been staying up all night researching plastic, what it does in the environment, alternative products, alternative packaging, etc. etc. etc. I wonder how much having my computer on all night contributes to global warming? Of course, if it weren't for this project, I'd probably be sitting in front of it watching recorded TV shows all night and playing Spider Solitaire, so I guess this is the lesser of the evils.

But this morning, as I was grabbing yet another plastic-laden frozen entree as I ran out the door because I hadn't given myself time to prepare anything else, I paused to think about the irony of the situation. And I realized that I don't have to solve every plastic problem that arises this week or this month. I can slow down and spend some time in my garden. Or get some exercise and start running again. Or just sit and follow my breath.

I'm tired. And I think a lot of other people are tired. So many people are trying to cram too many things into their lives without stopping to breathe. And just maybe all this frantic activity helps create the need for all this plastic in the first place. We want convenience because we don't have time to cook fresh food. We want a cucumber shrink-wrapped in plastic like I saw the other day at Trader Joe's because we don't even have time to wash off our fruits and vegetables.

But even as I'm writing this, another voice inside me is screaming, "But I don't want to cook dinner! I don't want to make a salad. I want to sit in front of my computer all day, munching on chocolate bars, until I merge into cyberspace and become pure information." (Don't laugh, Jo Anne.) So what I just said about doing too many things is true, but it's not the whole story.

Are we living in the Information Age or the Plastic Age? I think it's both and that they go hand in hand. Our brains are plastic, malleable, our minds so easily seduced and manipulated by the volume of input coming in faster and faster. People like me become fascinated with all this information. In fact, the Web site Plastic.com is not actually about plastic but is an ever-changing (plastic) user-driven news and discussion forum, "recyling the web in real time."

Remember when I said that having a project to be passionate about has resulted in my desire to buy fewer things? Well, that's a nice sentiment. It's what you're supposed to say in a blog like this. But honestly, I think I'm still just as aquisitive as I was before. It's just that now, the desire is for knowledge, information, data. Feed me data! (And chocolate because I do still have a body.) More data! More chocolate! More data! More chocolate! Yum! If we only had a food replicator, like on Star Trek, we'd be set. But we don't. We have plastic, plastic packaging that allows us to live plastic lives. We can freeze it, bake it, microwave it, submerge it, and it'll still be there protecting whatever is inside so we can do whatever else we want to do besides worrying about preparing food.

In fact, the only thing about plastic that isn't plastic is the firmness with which it will continue to exist even after we are gone. And when I think about that, and about the harm it is doing to the other creatures who live on this planet and who are not seduced by information and chocolate, I feel sad. And responsible.

So... so... I have no pithy conclusion to this post. I can't tie it up with a neat moral. I don't know that there is one. Except to reiterate that I need some sleep. And a plan for how to continue to pursue my passions without forgetting this human body, without which those passions would not exist. But first, I need some sleep.
 

Week 4 Results: Drowning in 13.9 oz of plastic

Michael asked me this week why I felt the need to catalogue every tiny speck of plastic. Does each little cheese wrapper really make a difference?

And in an online discussion group, one of the participants questioned my priorities, saying,

"I sympathize with your frustration... but do you think that plastic wrapping is a core issue, worthy of all your attention? Plastic wrapping accounts for a minor amount of plastic use (though it may be much in your face as a buyer). We have millions of tons of car parts and furniture and trinkets and clothing and so much more being made out of plastic."

He then went on to say, "Beth, surely working on the larger issue of the zero waste redesign of plastic manufacturing will be more rewarding than removing wrapping on pieces of cheese (where the wrapping at least serves a reasonable function, like it or not)."

These points are quite valid, and if course there are bigger problems in the waste stream than a few cheese wrappers. So I want to clarify the reason for this weekly tally of every plastic item I discard.

It's not so much that I think each piece of plastic is equally as harmful to the environment as the others. The weekly tally serves to emphasize the ubiquitous nature of plastic in our world. The purpose is to bring to our awareness just how many things are made of or are wrapped in plastic and to help us wake up to how completely plastic products have become a part of our daily lives.

Listing the items each week helps me to be aware, and I hope it helps those who read this blog. So, with that explanation, here is this week's list:

Items used this week but purchased before the plastic project began:

First, plastic wrappers, bags, and other non-recyclable plastic:

• 1 "clam shell" package from an Oxo candy thermometer I bought a few months ago and hadn't yet used.


• 1 plastic package from a tube of photo glue stick.


• 1 plastic ballpoint pen, used up and unrefillable.


• 1 plastic wrapper from a bar of Micky Mouse soap.


• 1 used scrubber sponge. Yep, the dark green scrubber part is plastic and the sponge is made of some kind of synthetic material.


• 1 sponge attachment for a plastic dishwand. This is the last one.


• 1 plastic dishwand. This is the handle that you fill with soap. We won't be using it anymore because we'd have to keep buying plastic sponge attachments for it.


• 6 Refresh Endura single-use eyedrop containers (#4 plastic). It turns out Michael can't recycle these at work after all because San Francisco only accepts bottles and wide-mouth containers. Not other items, regardless of the plastic number.


• 1 Pure & Natural liquid hand soap pump bottle. (#1 plastic) This is our last bottle of liquid soap. We're switching to bar soap from now on. And I'll find another use for this bottle.


• 1 wrapper from around the neck of an ACT fluoride rinse bottle..

Now for the recyclable plastic items:

• 1 #1 CA Redemption Value bottle: Figi 1.5 litre spring water. Found this in a cupboard and used it up this week. Michael will take this to Safeway for the cash.


• 1 ACT fluoride rinse 18-oz bottle. (#3 plastic) I can put this in Oakland's curbside container since it's a narrow-necked bottle. I have 3 more of these to use up.

That's it for the waste from items purchased before the plastic project began. Okay, now for the new plastic waste:

• 1 Stahlbush Island Farms caulifower bag. Do not be fooled by these. The bags look like brown kraft paper on the outside, but the inside is lined with plastic.


• 1 Safeway Organics soy milk spout & cap. For now, have switched to quart-sized Wildwood organic soy milk. This is the only brand and size I have found without a plastic cap. Even the Wildwood half gallon has a plastic cap. I also got some bulk powdered soy milk to try, but I don't know how palatable it will prove to be.


• 1 Eating Right frozen meal plastic tray and film. (#1 plastic) I didn't buy this. I forgot to take lunch to work, and my co-worker was nice enough to give this to me. Now, the tray will be with me for life!


• 1 Dutch double cream gouda cheese wrapper from last week. A guilty pleasure.


• 1 Michael Angelo's frozen dinner plastic tray and film. (#1 plastic) I'd never tried it and didn't know what the plastic situation would be. Now I know.


• 1 film from the top of a Helen's Kitchen frozen dinner. The tray was cardboard.


• 1 Fedex padded pak. I had to order a set of HP restore disks to fix my dang computer, and this is how they were shipped. I'll reuse the pak.


• 1 ziplock-type baggie that was inside the Fedex padded pak. I can reuse it.


• 1 shrink-wrapper that was around the CDs that were inside the zip-lock bag that was inside the Fedex padded pak that HP sent.


• About 10 air-filled plastic pillow things that were around a solar porchlight from Smarthome. Didn't even think about the packaging when I ordered the porch light. I knew the light was going to be plastic, but I rationalized that it's not new plastic for us because we bought it in p