Many hands, together

“It’s like before we all had washing machines, and we did ‘wash’ together. Things done together have a different energy and feel so much less overwhelming.” (From a conversation in the Unpacking Whiteness group facilitated by Desiree B Stephens on Mighty Networks.)

Yes! This is so true, about how tasks done together have a different energy and feel so much better. Rejuvenating, connecting, while getting work done.

Recently a friend and I watched a movie called “Hannah.” The two main characters were self-sufficient father & daughter living in a Northern forest. The father was training the daughter to be a hard-core fighter for some secret agency.

And it struck me that most of my fellow white people in the doomer prepper groups I hang out in would be admiring the northern forest duo and using them as the standard to aim for.

But the characters I loved and admired and wanted to hang out with, were the Berber tribeswomen we got a glimpse of in passing (the film plot involved an international chase) who were standing in & around the water at an oasis in Morocco, laughing and singing while doing laundry together. THAT was the world that drew me. Always has been.

Work in isolation is exhausting and divides us all. Capitalist culture!

Work in community is connection and learning together and singing and laughing, and then we don’t need to indulge in consumer goods or consumerist tourist “vacations” to “escape” from our lives.

Laundry in the capitalist world sucks. What a chore, fancy machinery notwithstanding. Same with other chores.

(And: Even being together in a laundromat is at least something.)

(And: Even being together in a laundromat is at least something. I don’t think it’s any coincidence that my neighborhood has lost three laundromats in the 10 years I’ve lived here. Anything communal gets devalued and falls by the wayside because only people in the “lower economic classes” use those things anymore and no one cares when they break. The owners move on to a new “business venture,” and everyday people end up having to lug their laundry on the bus, taking extra time and money.)

In unrelated yet related news, three members of a Colorado family have died of starvation or exposure while trying to live “off the grid.” They were found in a tent at an altitude of over 9000 feet. Most of the examples of off grid madness that I see are less extreme than this, but as a rule our individualistic culture is killing us. This kind of thing is a trauma response unless someone is fleeing actual disaster in their faces.

My current nonfiction book read-in-progress in the Deep Adaptation/Degrowth genre is Love in the Age of Ecological Apocalypse, by Carolyn Baker. She remarks on how so many people try to form intentional communities without really doing the human connection part. Mainly just emphasizing material resources and hard skills. It doesn’t work.

A quote:

“Overwhelmingly, I have observed several groups of well-meaning individuals attempting to form communities or groups based entirely on reason and intellect. It is as if they assume that since they are all rational human beings with good intentions who operate on the same page in terms of a particular issue, if they just work together they will accomplish their goals. Sometimes the same individuals avoid books, workshops, articles, and other resources on emotional literacy and communication skills. Occasionally, I have been told by workshop participants that a process in which I’m leading the group is ‘so seventies,’ and I’ve also been told from time to time that my workshops are “too touchy-feely.” Really? Then why is it so painfully difficult for people raised in this culture to resolve conflicts and functionally communicate with one another? Some of the same individuals who tell me that my work is too touchy-feely contact me months or years later and report that their working group fell apart because of personal conflicts and they want help restarting or reconstructing the group.”

Define “fun”

How weird and bizarre. Facebook just sent me a notification that my request to participate in a group called “Fun Ladies of Volusia County” had been denied. The reason given was that I do not meet the qualifications or standards of the group.

Now, the truth is I DON’T meet the qualifications/standards of the group. That part of being denied wasn’t weird. Because, by the mainstream “fun lady” standards of western industrial capitalist society, I am most definitely NOT fun. <laughing w tears icon>

Unless your definition of “fun” is someone who is always going on about permaculture design principles, native plants, heat mitigation, stormwater harvesting, steady-state economics, anarchist philosophy, and urban redevelopment issues.

And ranting on about how deeply she despises leafblowers, and loves eating in restaurants. And pondering the attributes of the perfect martini or Negroni cocktail. (Which she prefers to drink in a restaurant or bar alone, with a book or writing notebook in hand.)

So yeah, not a FUN lady in the conventional sense. So that part of me being denied admittance wasn’t weird. The thing that was weird is that I never requested to join a group by that name in the first place.
<emoticons: puzzled; The Scream; alien face>

Oh my gosh, I would NEVER. That would be so rude!

Just like I would never presume to try to intrude upon a group called Taekwondo Enthusiasts. Or Arctic Sailors, or Surveillance Camera Technicians for Increased Surveillance. Or the Ice Cream Abolitionists’ League. 

It could be that I hit a button by mistake or something. That does happen. Anyway: As you were, Fun Ladies of Volusia County! Your group is totally safe from me. Get on with your pursuit of good, normal, wholesome, ladylike fun. <wink>

(NOTE, since some of you have privately expressed reactions I did not expect: This is a humorous post, warranting full-on laugh react. I do not actually think that any live humans intentionally rejected me. That’s not what this post is about. It’s about laughing with joy about freely being a nerd who has non-mainstream-feminine ideas of “fun.” And, it’s about pondering the foibles of technology.)

Retirement plan

I have made a number of posts on the topic of ethically building security for our old age. But thought I would go ahead and copy-share this, which I wrote in response to a fellow middle-aged woman in the Transformative Adventures group who asked people to share their thoughts/plans for retirement.

My plan is to continue what I am doing now: only earn the bare amount of money to pay taxes and home repair expenses and other basic expenses, and tithe to my community.

My occupation “sustainability educator” will see me through the rest of my life, as it has various aspects. I love my work and am not into the “retirement” concept.

As I get older (I’m 60 now), I don’t expect to be doing as much of the vigorous outdoor component of my landscaping work. (I already mostly serve as a referral service to young entrepreneurs who are just getting into eco landscaping.)

But I will be continuing to teach and write and make art and so on. For as long as I live. Another way I earn income is by renting out 2 bedrooms in my house at very very modest rates, just enough to cover expenses and have a small fund for emergency repairs, hurricane prep/cleanup etc.

I consider having housemates to be under my “sustainability educator” umbrella. And it brings me deep satisfaction to provide housing security to people especially in this day and age of housing crunch.

Of course Social Security will help with income also, if that program still exists by the time I’d be collecting Social Security.

Medical: in a few years I will qualify for Medicare or Medicaid which will take care of some medical bills if I have them. But my main plan is basically pull the plug if I am incapacitated. I have already instructed my siblings in writing about this. And if I am conscious and get some super dreadful expensive disease, I will choose some form of voluntary death.

Or it is possible that I might choose to try to pursue medical treatment, if my small savings was enough to cover it and/or I could get the money for surgery etc. through sales of my books or what have you. That too is to me a realistic option. I am still always prepared to choose voluntary death if the situation warrants. I do not consider myself a civilian, and whatever happens to me happens to me within the line of duty.

On this topic of death — I am a death doula in training, and I find that this aspect of my work overlaps greatly with my planetary activism.

My main focus is on living a deeply meaningful life right now, and helping my community as much as I possibly can.
It’s a joyful and rewarding existence, and tomorrow is never guaranteed.

Transporting insects & spiders from indoors to outdoors

FB friend posted:

“Giant spider trapped in a bowl in my living room, what to do? We’re ***ing terrified”

I responded:

Awww!
I usually use one of those sturdy glossy junk-mail postcards, slide it under the bowl or jar. (And if necessary, then slide another sturdy piece of something like cardboard under that as reinforcement.)

Thereby it is easy to safely transport Ms. Eight-Leggy back to her outdoor home, where she will find the food and other things she needs, and you can have your livingroom back.

(Other people made similar comments. It was really nice to see people supporting the safe removal of the spider, as opposed to killing. Several people pointed out that it was probably a wolf spider or a huntsman, both of whom are not harmful to humans. And furthermore are avid predators of insects who love LIVE to bite humans.)

I use my transport method to rehome other species as well, such as our giant palmetto bugs. (They are utterly harmless but that doesn’t mean I want them crawling on me while I’m sleeping.)

In times of struggle, remember the flailing lizard

Came home last night from a beautiful convivial afternoon/evening out at Mackers Seafood and Midtown Café, to find the rain-tubs filled, as I was hoping! Juicy!!! 0.6 inches on the Beachside, Main Street area. And as often happens with a fat summer rain that takes us through sunset, the temperature cooled down by almost 20° F.

Last night was actually the first night in weeks that I not only wanted but actually needed a sheet over me toward the morning hours to sleep comfortably. (On a related note: Some weeks ago, the extended nighttime heat motivated me to switch from sleeping on my summer lightweight mat to just sleeping on the bare tile floor. It helps.)

This morning I noticed that one of the overflow rain tubs, which typically sits empty, had a bit of water in it. Since the tub doesn’t sit perfectly level, one end was dry while the other end had a bit of water in it. A lizard had gotten stuck and was not able to climb out of the steep tub. I tried lowering the fill hose into the tub to provide the lizard with an exit ramp. However, the motion prompted him/her to scramble away, avoiding the hose rather than climbing up the “ramp.” And the scrambling took Lizard away from the dry end of the tub, and back into the deep end, where intensified flailing would resume.

I added a couple of short lengths of bamboo. Hopefully Lizard finds their way out. This was a few minutes ago and I will go check now to make sure the stranded friend has escaped from the tub. (Update: Yes!)

It struck me that in our lives, the universe is constantly trying to provide us with assistance in the form of little metaphorical ramps and sticks. But often our immediate instinct is to flail and scramble and run away from the helping hand. Next time I catch myself doing this, I’m going to stop and remember the flailing lizard! And once again thank the angels and ancestors.

Native-plant gardens aren’t museums!

A chapter of native-plant society posted that the “pollinator garden” they had set up a few years ago in a nearby state park needed some care. The implication seemed to be that it had gotten too “messy” (also I gather some plants were damaged by last year’s hurricanes). And the park staff are all set to mow it down unless it gets “tidied.”

From the post:

“If no one steps up to begin to restore the pollinator garden … which still has unique plants, butterflies, bees and now two residents gopher tortoises, park management is ready to mow it all down!”

Some of my thoughts:

• I remember when the management of state parks and national parks etc. actually knew about their park’s native plants, and it was part of their job to inform visitors about native plants, and they seemed to enjoy that aspect of the job. Not threaten to mow the native plants down.

• It’s a state park. It’s for public access to nature. The public already has plenty of access to mowed ground. Way too much, everywhere.

• Why is park management so bent on mowing? Why can’t the native plants just be allowed to thrive? Funny how we (societally) are always willing to spend money to mow things down. Even in a nature park. CONTROL. It’s all about control.

• We need to get away from this idea that a native-plant garden is this static, pristine museum of plants and needs to be constantly trimmed to the same standards as a manicured suburban landscape. In real life, landscapes pulse. I see it every day walking down to the beach at the end of my street. The dunescape is always in flux, the gorgeous red-and-yellow blanket flower dominating for a bit, and then the pinky-purple beach morning glories taking over for a while, and so on.

• Park staff are paid. They are paid to educate as well as maintain a natural environment. People who are “allowed” to set up native-plant gardens, on the other hand, are typically members of native-plant societies. Strictly volunteer. Mainly older, women, retired, relatively well-off. Basically it’s a luxury and a privilege. It shouldn’t be. It sends the wrong message — this idea that native plants are an optional extra or some powdery province of the Mayonated Republic of Caucasia(TM).

• Possible gender dimension: I’m betting the (paid employees) threatening to mow are men. Where is the people trying to nurture the plants are (unpaid) women.

• “It looks too messy” is the rallying-cry of a nature-phobic society. We need to do all we can to dismantle this toxic mentality within ourselves.

• Professionalism: Volunteer or no, people who have attained the expertise to set up and maintain native plant gardens have often spent years and in many cases paid for courses and conferences to attain said level of expertise. Diligence study and practice are involved. It has often occurred to me that volunteerism is a dual-edged sword. 1) Although volunteers do much good in the world, there is always the risk that our work is devalued. And 2) We are not creating long-term jobs that would give young people a good livelihood while also helping the planet.

• The would-be flower-mowers are voicing a baser instinct of death-dealing industrial society. Having to bend over backwards to try to get these people to please refrain from destroying an immensely valuable work, is a weak position. I wonder how we can avoid keeping ourselves in this kind of position. I wonder how we might maneuver ourselves into a more favorable position.

• Helping to reset our society’s default settings regarding neatness and tidiness in the great outdoors is one of my top ambitions. I have made some inroads in my neighborhood, and also by posting outstanding examples of gorgeous yet “untidy” landscapes on social media. Are you engaged in similar efforts to move the needle about our deadly obsession with tidying the great outdoors? If so, what are some ways that are working for you?

• Maybe the entire concept of a pollinator garden or native plant garden is, while well-meaning, outmoded or misguided? Maybe instead we just need to plant native plants here and there. Signage can just as easily be placed next to each plant where it is, as it can be in a garden. The showroom mentality may just fuel our HGTV type of aesthetic reflexes, which are just not good for nature.

• If you find yourself at the wrong end of this story arc, and Brandon and Caden’s Mow N Blow Bro’s have already driven their armored tank over your native-plant landscape, don’t despair; all is not lost. If there’s one thing that mowing is good for, it’s dispersing wildflower seeds! You may notice more wildflowers sprouting up than ever.

Quirky advice #1313: park your thoughts out in the world

If you are having trouble expressing your feelings, news, opinions, etc. on important matters to the people closest to you: Park your thoughts somewhere out in the world.

Could be a book, could be a blog, could be scribble on a bathroom wall, could be a confidence to a longtime friend who gets you or a stranger in the bus station who mysteriously gets you too, could be a work of fiction double-wrapped in an inscrutable pseudonym. Could even be an ephemeral spoken-word poem that doesn’t even exist on paper, And is transmitted on only one occasion, late at night, in an obscure bar, to an audience of one or two who are mostly preoccupied with their own readings. Doesn’t matter: It will eventually reach the people you need to reach, and possibly will help many others in the meantime.

Park your thoughts out in the world. Store them diffusely for safekeeping. The people you want to tell them to will hear them eventually. Maybe on this side of the veil, maybe otherwise, but they will.