The State of our State and the World it's within

If you were to read every blog I've written (not counting those angsty livejournal pages from High school), you would note a clear shift from environmentalist to doomsdayer. It's becoming increasingly difficult to put down my "Oh-shit, we're fucked" mindset and focus on the joys of nagging people to recycle one bottle at a time...especially in our current world. If you don't know what I'm taking about, pick up any newspaper.

The EPA being sued for violating clean air policy 
Massive Oil Spill in Indonesia

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These are just a couple headlines in the last few weeks.

I am fortunate in some ways to get to spend the Spring away from technology and news, hiking in remote public and private lands of Northwestern New Mexico with local students, sharing with them an appreciation for the Earth beneath their feet, and trying with all my might to instill a sense of wonder at this wholly-connected world we live in.
Despite my very full-time job leading and organizing camping trips, I have had some unique opportunities so far this year, to travel beyond those trips and gather beta on the depressing (my opinion) state of our future generations.

Some students on an adventure-focused trek 

REI's latest ad campaign states that Americans spend an average of 95% of their lives INDOORS. Despite constant evidence that, as animals, we are designed to be in and connect with nature, we seem to be increasingly ignoring this connection, and even causing harm to it. This is both promising and discouraging-- even heart-wrenching. Working in a field that promotes environmental literacy, there is a sort of capitalistic promise in that we are making positions like mine, and the knowledge I possess more scarce. But it won't matter how marketable my skills are when our mono-crops have failed, we've destroyed 25% of the Earth's diversity, and billions of people are fighting over privately owned water sources. See-- sustainability and politics/the hope of our future freedoms are more hand in hand that most of America believes, it seems.

Outside Magazine's most recent issue has an article explaining the pollution and mismanagement of Mt Everest. I think this is a beautifully horrifying metaphor for our use of the outdoors. Mt Everest is a microcosm of our use of nature. Find the biggest/baddest and conquer it, giving little thought to the impact of you doing so.  In the same magazine as the REI ad and the Mt. Everest article, there's a review of the movie Mountain. With our decreasing understanding of the Earth and how it's working, and the slow stripping away of our public lands, romantic places to relax and unwind will so soon be full of people and pollution.

This weekend I led a presentation for the Association of Experiential Education conference here in Albuqeurque. My topic was how to engrain Environmental Education into Outdoor Education because it came to my attention at the international conference in November, that they aren't the same thing. There are currently people earning degrees in Outdoor Leadership and Adventure Learning that don't have biology, ecology or environmental studies as a required course. They take students into the wilderness for days or weeks at a time, and don't know of the incredible contentedness of the ecology they're existing in. This is a huge problem.

I attended two education conferences this winter. At SXSW EDU in Austin last month, I stood in a room full of ways to connect students to new technologies, to teach circuit building and robotics. One company teaches through holograms-- allowing kids to "experience" new things. We are clearly on the verge of a futuristic world that I honestly don't want to live in. I was one of three organizations there that offered travel experiences, and the only one that does so unplugged. We are so obsessed with ensuring kids have the abilities to be 'connected' we have forgotten to connect them first with the earth beneath their feet.

My booth at SXSW

At the Montessori Conference in Denver, I was a little more enlightened. Inspired by the Rachel Carson quote,

 "If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder, he needs the companionship of at least one adults who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement, and mystery of the world we live in."

I was reminded that Montessori educators value nature, above most things, and students lucky enough to receive a Montessori education have greater environmental literacy than most. The conference was concurrent with the rallies for stricter gun control, which was inspiring to see. It is my understanding that most of what they are asking for is already in play in our legal system...but it was encouraging to see the turnout of families and adults and children of all ages.

Every day, I am grateful that I followed my heart toward a degree in Environmental Studies. And every day I am enraged that the people who make political decisions, educate our youth, and affect our daily lives did not obtain the same simple education. I am working HARD to ensure that everyone, at least in New Mexico, has some environmental awareness. But this fight is taking too long. At this rate, there will be little of our Mother Earth to fight for by the time we win. I am honestly afraid of what is to come. All I can do in the meantime is smell the flowers and wonder for how many years they will be able to bloom.

Want to test your "Environmental Literacy"? Here's a quiz with some basic questions EVERYONE should know.

Ride the World

These are not easy words to write, and could probably be expressed better. But in the words of Thoreau "Not that the story need be long, but it will take a long while to make it short."

I have spent the last 10 weeks pouring my energy into a community that consists on discovery, growth, self awareness, confidence and independence. The first days, even weeks after Sid passed I struggled to think of going back to my normal world. At the same time, my supportive group of inspiring friends has been exactly what I needed to shake this shock and sadness, and propel my energy into something greater:

Monday was our last night with trekkers at our base camp. Six weeks before, inspired by the bustle and buzz of 30 adults making last minute preparations I started a poem about the "calm before the storm." Now, after many tears and smiles, laughing to the point of collapse, wondering how an hour can feel like an eternity but a week can feel like a moment, one wedding and two rendezvous and a handful pretty intense conversations...it's come to an end. Every late night, every tough decision, every bonding moment has come to this: a staff game of bucketball under an increasingly brilliant orange sky. 

Many of us hardly have enough energy to communicate our own feelings, yet we pounded the squishy dirt as we hustled back and forth, not wanting our peers to feel unsupported. Trekkers watched from either side (admiring this adult show of appropriate contact and communication in a semi-competitive game) as they prepared for their final banqets- a traditional last meal with one another before they travel back to their homes, plug into their screens and march back into their school systems. 

...

I have thought a lot about Sid this summer. He came to  me in the happiest moments. In those rare moments of still beauty and perfection I was painfully aware of his absence in this world. I've thought a lot about how we would have worked it out this summer...with me being completely committed to this community. I've thought about how thankful I am to have learned his perspective on politics and the world, and to have met a new group of friends and family from him. I've also thought about his addiction. Our ability to be consumed in every aspect of our lives by the things we loved made Sid and I understand each other. I'm reminded every day of how his addiction to alcohol affected his life. This summer I have seen my peers fight the same addiction. Whether they're watching the people they love pour their lives away, or making the difficult decisions to keep themselves away from the same pressures, I have so much pride and admiration for their willpower and strength...and I worry that without help, more people will have to face the same struggles. Just as Sid threw himself into his Colorado world, I am consumed by this community, and the work needed to be done to give our youth a safe space.

This last week of wrapping things up, as two different parents choked up thanking us for what we have done for their kids, I have been reminded of why we do this energy-taxing job of supporting sustained memories and a sacred place for these children to grow up. Every interaction I had with a young person, I became aware of the need of our children to receive actual attention and care by solid adult role models. I hope that with this support, they won't turn to substances to fill a void. 

Harriet the rat. 

The world has now missed the brilliant soul we called Sid for over three months. I ache for him and cry for him. I miss the furrowed wrinkles on his forehead that I would try to smooth out, his cheesy grin, and the soft skin of his hands. I know that no amount of tears or memories or lighting candles can bring him back...but what I can do is carry on his energy and love, and fill the void of passion I had for him with love and light for the rest of the world. I can no longer tell Sid I love him, but I can show that love to the youth around me, to the leaders of the future. I can listen to late night ramblings, cheer them on when they're challenging themselves to something new, and be supportive of who they want to be. 

A day in the Life

I really do feel like I have the best job in the world.
Today, I got to take 48 Montessori students (1st, 2nd and 3rd grade) on a 3 mile hike to a beautiful vista at Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument.

While driving there, some of the usual environmental concerns popped into my head.
'Would it be more efficient for us to have newer vehicles? Or is it good that we maintain our old vehicles so that we don't have to use new resources?'
'Could the kids get the same experience from something closer, cutting our driving time and fuel use down?'
...etc.
Overall, I think that we do a pretty good low-impact outdoor experience, and that impact is made up for by the positive impact I see our excursions having on the students.

The day was full of funny things kids say, like "Aw, how sad, some people died" as we passed the cemetery, or one kid telling the other that he is not a mature 2nd grader. And there were some tears as we neared the top and they couldn't get their little legs to lift up those big rocks anymore. But the highlight for me came from about .5 mile into the hike. We were stopped at an oak tree, examining the acorns, when I pulled off a gall

(like this, but orange)

 

and asked them what they thought it was. I had them pass it around to confirm that it was something squishy, which was one of the items we needed for our scavenger hunt. Then I opened the top and showed them the inside. The same little girl who I had talked to about having a positive mental attitude, and had expressed that you don't know how much you like something until you try, said "WOW! I LOVE hiking! I want to do this more often." Later she told me she wanted to do this at least once a month.
It was her who had the most struggles going up, and despite the fact that sometimes she said she was a "tough cookie" as she took another step, other times she said she couldn't make it.
I made a deal that if she made it to the top, I'd carry her backpack back down....and guess what? She made it to the top. She was so proud, she carried her own backpack down (as I suspected she would).

Her mother thanked me for my "interaction with [her] daughter" at the end of the trip, but the pleasure was all mine. Even if she was the only kid to feel like this was a wonderful experience, and that hiking and exploring and breathing fresh air is something that she wants to do regularly, I feel we succeeded. But I imagine we sparked a bit of interest. And we get to take the group out again in October.