Climbing Mental Mountains

When is the last time you were challenged by something? I don’t mean a challenge the way that climbing a mountain or completing is a crossword is a challenge, but having your beliefs challenged. This month my beliefs and values, as well as the habits I’ve made of expressing those, were completely challenged. I learned a lot that I tried to express in blog several times, but it never came out right.

I gained a lot of perspective this month, as a result of these challenges. So often in my life I have been the one promoting eco-consciousness, environmental literacy and sustainable practices, that I had forgotten what it feels like to be confronted with those big, heavy ideas, when in a place of self-sustainability. I have become more conscious lately of how slow, though powerful education and knowledge are. I remember when I was growing up and we ran out of milk. As a cereal addict, I would obviously throw a tantrum if there wasn’t any milk to accompany my favored breakfast, usually resulting in someone taking me to the store. Often before my parents would concede the calmness of their morning and get the keys to drive me to the gas station, my mom would try to bargain with me. “But we have almond milk, and soy milk,” she would entice, showing me the cartons of shelf-stable milk, kept in the same cabinet as the cat food. “Yuck!” I would exclaim, trying not to imagine bean or nut juice being poured over my beloved Crackling Oat Bran. Although it took about a decade, the complete opposite is now true. After pouring some homemade granola at a friends house, I perused the fridge, looking right past the two cartons of cow-milk before deducing that there was "nothing" to pour on my granola. The thought of drinking milk from an animal is as stomach-turning to me now as bean juice was a decade ago, but it has taken almost half my life for that transformation to take place.
Nutrition is simply not something that is taught in schools, not successfully, anyway (in my opinion). After talking to several teachers about changes being made and programs offered to students, it seems that being taught how to eat is just not a priority. I was 20 before I started scrutinizing the food I put into my body. When I slip back to eating a Kit Kat or craving a donut, I have to remind myself that it took 20 years for me to learn and connect with these non-nutritious things and become familiar with them, and it's going to take me a long time to wean off of them and appreciate real wholesome foods that I didn't grow up acquainted with, like Kale.

Food is essentially trigger for my challenges this month. As a close friend started on Arnold Ehret's "the mucusless diet," which consisted of two meals a day of stewed veggies or stewed fruits, lots of fasting and frequent enemas to detox, I became increasingly torn with my own diet decisions. As he preached about the decadence of our American diets, informed by decades worth of research, I started feeling guilty for eating my Cliff Protein bar, a locally made burrito, or even a homemade salad. I felt like people probably do when I berate  them for driving a 4 door dodge ram 3500 as a commuter car. Its hard to give up vices for ethics. Especially when our vices are an engrained part of our everyday lives.

For weeks I struggled to defend my beliefs and actions. I realized that although their may be social, economical and health benefits to fasting more and eating less (but more nutrient-full), that adopting such a diet, and therefore a lifestyle would pull me out of social situations and circles where I could potentially benefit in other ways. I thought back to the days that I abhorred almond milk, when now I make my own, and considered how slow but permanent that change was. I started thinking about to the numerous changes that I have slowly made in the last 6 years. I haven't purchased a plastic water bottle since 2007. I have adopted a policy to not buy anything new unless absolutely necessary. I consolidate my travel plans and extrapolate my errands to reduce carbon emissions. I have made an abundance of changes to my everyday actions for causes other than my own interest, but they have taken time.

"It's too late to be a pessimist," Glenn Close's voice repeated at the end of the powerful documentary Home, but one thing that has been nagging at me is the juxtaposition between the permanence and speed of things like species extinction versus the permanence and slow speed of knowledge. I have dedicated my career to teaching people to think of our world as a system, and to analyze their involvement in the system, but so much of what I do, mostly because of limited time I have with students, is introduce them to the possibilities of the world around them. I can't in one week, or one day or one hour as is sometimes the case, present to them everything I have learned and understood to inform my decisions toward a more sustainable life. In the midst of our world being torn apart, I can simply encourage them to come on a hike and hope that the experiences we share will inspire a life of learning, that will maybe, over a decade, translate into some Earth-saving actions.

It's scary to think about that juxtaposition, but it IS too late to be a pessimist. All I can do is hope that if I reach enough people, act as a role model and myself continue to strive to make more sustainable changes, that this we can sustain life on this world, and live in harmony.

So that's my Halloween thought for the day. It may be scary but if you want a GOOD fright- you should watch a REAL horror flick like The Corporation or Home. Jason's got nothing on Monsanto.

Capturing Clues Across the Country …9

Garnerville-

2 hours after departing the bustle of Brooklyn with Amil’s brothers, weaving through taillights on busy New York highways, zooming past growing stretches of green in our venture up north, we arrived in Garnerville, at Amil’s aunt and uncle’s house. Amil had spent several weeks here after we met, recovering from surgery and we had spent time here on our last great cross country journey, so I greeted the vibrant green hills behind the staunch straight houses in the suburbs with a bit of a warm welcoming in my heart.

A lot had changed in this household since our last visit a year and a half ago. This, along with the contrast of personal beliefs between us and Amil’s family’s was illustrated best with the dinner that night. 
Like many of the activities we were invited to in New York, we weren’t really told what to expect, where things were happening, what time, etc. My only expectation of this family gathering was that we would be eating dinner, (probably bbq) together, since we hadn’t all been together in over a year.
In reality, all was a blur of movement and eating, and talking, and settling. Some people opened bags of chips they had just bought, others offered dips, some grilled, others chopped onions, while others made a salad. After almost an hour of greetings and check-ins and hustle and bustle in the kitchen, one by one we made our way to the table, putting out one dish after someone else had filled their plate, or filling our plate with one menu item but not the other. 
We dined, as family, eating our own independent interpretation of the meal that was pulled together by the unique individuals around us, off of paper plates on a mirrored table. Conversation between this group of people- Amil’s brothers with his Aunt and Uncle, their daughter, and his brother’s significant others as well as the two of us, had never occurred before, and ranged from food to politics, to society, law enforcement, and education- all pretty heavy subjects for a first meeting. I couldn’t help but admiring the different opinions and the different emotions behind them, as I watched a glass of water ripple on the table under our conversation. In the mirror of the table, just as in the undertones of the words spoken, the water seemed to bounce and wave, but on the table, as our appearance and politeness attempted, the water’s underlying ripples were unseen, and it was apparently motionless.

The next morning I again tried the sea-level run. The air here, although humid, had a slight twinge of cool that I hoped would help me push though, and it did. I had two great runs through the little neighborhood, while also taking advantage of their jump rope and weight set.

Although we were away from the big city and all it’s easy subway connections, we had found many opportunities just a drive away from where we were staying. We got a massage, cooked a lot of vegan food, and I got to experiment with several vegan ice creams- avocado coconut (the lime is everything!) and chocolate peanut butter banana (this one I may keep in my back pocket. 3 easy ingredients whipped together and chilled before dinner, perfect after dinner treat. We about killed the whole bit). On another day, Amil’s aunt drove us to the mall for him to get his eyes checked out for new glasses. Driving in her car to the second largest mall in the country, walking around between the four floors, avoiding good-smelling temptations of pretzels, burgers, and frozen yogurts…I felt thankful for my quaint life in the woods in the last year. Away from products and things people are trying to sell you, and tell you that you want and you should be. Most of all, the driving, the buying, the avoiding was an interesting contrast to our next visit just across the Hudson.

Cross Country ! Part 2…Chapter 8

New York (Brooklyn)

As soon as we left the train, all was a blur of humid subway stations and dinging and “the doors are closing” and garbled voices over an intercom before we walked up some stairs and Ta-Da— we had arrived in Brooklyn! The humidity keeps the air lingering around your body, similar to Texas but not as domineering. The culture, the people, the gum-stains on the sidewalk, however, replace the trees and space and air back home with a strong reminder of the presence of people.

I love visiting friends and family in the city because they each have such creative and unique ways of living in small spaces that are still personal to them. I have always been obsessed with small spaces. Sometimes I google “tiny houses” (tumbleweeds are my fave) to imagine living in less than 200 square feet- just enough to keep your stuff dry but enticing you to live outside, where the real living room is. 
So, seeing the simplicity and the personality of the space of Amil’s brother and sister-in-law’s 2nd floor apartment always gets me excited for housing possibilities. This time I was especially excited because I have this possibility in the back of my mind of moving into our own little house in Albuquerque.

In addition to the simplicity of their home, I enjoy the accessibility. The layout is very inviting- sit on the couch or gather around for dinner, the furniture seems to say. Still, there are some things that will be markedly different because Amil and I are, of course, different people. The fridge will likely be jam-packed with all sorts of concoctions, and the counters full of sprouts, jars of fermentation experiments, etc. In our excitement for having such a welcoming home, we sort of began to transform their productive space into our food lair. Despite their understanding hesitations at our kitchen takeover, Amil’s family sat down to a fully vegan-sprouted meal including a Domincan-themed beans and rice, fried plantains, and some homemade gluten free crackers with a chickpea-salad topping, all created by Amil (crackers included). As we have been growing to be more picky (I hate calling the desire to eat raw, unprocessed foods picky, but I think it’s easy for others to see it that way), it was nicely reaffirming for the family to eat what we consider a good, healthy meal, and feel satisfied. Amil’s brother commented on how it was one of a few fully vegetarian dinners he had eaten, and yet he didn’t feel he was missing out. Success. J

The rest of our week stay was a delicate dance between our excitement at the freedom of having a kitchen to play in and a fridge to hold our stuff, and their adjustments  to our occupation. On one occasion, after returning with bags full of carrots, greens, peaches, apples, beets, and onions from the Union Square farmers market and chopping the kale into a lovely salad, Amil noticed a cute little caterpillar on a leaf that had just barely missed his knife’s cut. Worried that it would die without ongoing nutrients from the kale, he generously put it in water and supplied it with some of his expensive super green meal supplement powder for it to have nourishment as it grew. All this happened in his own quiet creative world, and I only noticed the jar of green goo with a leaf coming out of it a few hours later. Before long, though, unwilling to host a creature that may emerge and fly at any moment, the kale was quietly discarded.

In that week we lived, and played, and visited, doing activities that are completely unusual to our lives as traveling hippie tree-huggers. We went to Long Beach and stayed into the night, watching the sunset and the stars peek out. Coming from New Mexico, where the Milky Way is so thick it brightens the night by itself, the showing of stars was pretty sad, but our company remarked on how amazing it was. Oh, Perspective. We went out to dinner afffterward, long after our tummies had shut down for the night, and near our usual bedtime.

It was fun living life like a New Yorker…fast-paced, full of possible activities, a way I envisioned my life when I transferred to college in NY. Although we didn’t make it to any shows, I did fulfill my craving for falafel, and we even dined on the rare treat of a NY hard pretzel. Although I was fascinated by the facets of city life, I concluded that Albuquerque might be an ideal place to have city and stream, motion and mountains, space and community. Hopefully I’ll get to find out.

Cross Culture Clues…4

The Lake 

The conclusion of my volunteer week meant a much needed, long anticipated weekend at “the lake”. 
Visiting the lake means Food, Family, and Fun. There is always an ample amount of food, especially things I don’t usually eat. Despite the cycle of diets that one member of the family or another is on, there is always a bottomless bowl of Peanut M&M’s on the counter. There is also home-cooked food, which at this point I hadn’t had in months. But eating the treats that others create means not being too choosey in the ingredients. I had some cheese-covered-squash that grandma prepared, and some corn-syrup-infused potato salad—store bought, but a Lake staple nonetheless. For this weekend, I didn’t worry about the ingredients as much as I normally would, for any fare my family would feed me would be leaps better than the slop at camp, and I felt I deserved some comfort food. Oh! And, my brother made me a vegan chocolate coconut cake. Yum!

In addition to the ample food, we play games. Once everyone has eaten, checked their e-mail or looked up whatever the subject of the last conversation was, played guitar, and/or swam in the bath-temperature-water lake, a card or board game ensues. Since everyone knew I was only around for the day, they graciously assisted me checking off my Lake-life Bucket list:

-Scrabble
-3-13 (card game)
-Swim/Stand-up paddle board
-Drink a beer (shiner’s Prickly Pear ale, no less!)
-Canoe (replaced with paddle-boating with my bro)
-Eat!
-Lay in the hammock
 When all that was over, it was back to my grandparent’s house to wind down to bed. Something about sleeping in that house: the firm futon, the flowery sheets, the low night lights, or just the fact that there are so many people I love sleeping so close to me, always equals an un-paralleled sweet sleep. Also, waking up to the sounds of people chatting, the smell of toast, and the gentle sun through the curtains is like something out of fiction. :)