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Three years ago this month, in August 2017, I was heading into the home stretch of writing my book. I had started writing in mid-June, and when I started, I announced that the book would be launched on August 31. 

Procrastination, self-doubt, and feelings of utter hopelessness were my constant companions throughout the writing process. But this book had been incubating in me for some years; I believed in the book even when I didn’t believe in myself; and finally I’d reached the point where I couldn’t not write it. And so, as promised, I launched the book on August 31, 2017. 

In the introduction (which I saved til last to write), I wrote, “The capacity of people to self-mobilize for a worthy cause is remarkable.” I gave the example of Hurricane Harvey, which was going on even as I wrote. (The hurricane was officially born August 17 — three years ago today! — and ended September 3.)

The devastating storm sparked a massive grassroots outpouring of financial donations and supply missions to Houston and other hard-hit areas. “Some people are even loading up their kayaks and other small boats to go to Houston themselves and help with rescue operations,” I wrote in the introduction to DEEP GREEN. 

Little did I suspect that other severe hurricanes were to follow immediately on the heels of Harvey. Irma in early September; Maria in late September. These storms, and the major hurricanes that have hit every year since, became a blur in my mind. I had to look them up and write down their dates to remember which ones I’d evacuated for; which ones I’d hunkered down for. Which ones had hit which countries and states hardest.

And that’s just the hurricanes. The world has seen extreme droughts, flooding, wildfires of unprecedented duration and severity in the past few years.

The disasters all serve as examples of people’s ability to self-mobilize and display their better nature in times of disaster. And they all serve as reminders that the weather isn’t getting any less extreme. Most of all, though, they showed how vulnerable we are, economically and socially, to disruptions in what, for those of us who live in the more privileged countries, has come to be taken for granted as the “normal” order of life. 

And that was before the Covid pandemic. Underscore, underscore, underscore. The pandemic shed a more revealing light than ever before on the cracks in society. 

The seemingly accelerating disasters of the past few years have only increased my sense of urgency to get my book, this blog, the message of a “grassroots green mobilization” out to more people. Because it’s not just the health of our home planet’s ecosystems, on which our lives depend, that is at stake (as if that weren’t enough). That’s true, but easy for naysayers to dismiss as hypothetical or an exaggerated threat. Less easy to dismiss is what’s happening in the here and now. Millions of people are losing their livelihoods; experiencing food insecurity; struggling to keep a roof over their heads (or struggling with homelessness). Struggling to secure an education for their kids. These things are true even at the best of times. Storms and other weather disasters, and then the pandemic, have just brought the existing cracks in our system into sharper relief. 

I will never stop caring about the environment, and it will never cease being a prime focus of my work. But right now, my concern for the immediate wellbeing of fellow humans trumps my longer-term concern that our human habits are going to render our planet uninhabitable to us. Even if “longer-term” means only 10 years (which I sometimes fear that it might), my concern for people’s basic immediate wellbeing is even greater.

What I notice is that my book continues to be just as relevant through this lens of immediate concern. Cutting one’s eco-footprint in the various ways I suggest in my book leads to reduced financial overhead, and increased time and energy. This in turn makes a person and their household more adaptable and resilient to whatever may come. Think of it as increasing one’s options and maneuverability. 

It is in that spirit that on August 31, the third anniversary of DEEP GREEN’s launch, I’ll be making the book available free online, via this blog. I’ll be breaking it up into a separate post for each chapter so it’s not too cumbersome to load. When I say free, I mean free and no strings attached. I’m just putting it out there, not asking for anyone’s email address or anything else in exchange. 

For those of you who prefer to read offline (or who want to support my work financially), no worries! I will continue to offer DEEP GREEN for purchase as a PDF ($7), and in print form ($15 plus tax and shipping). I’m also going to be rolling out a couple of new, “deluxe” options that include original one-of-a-kind artwork by me. 

We can’t afford to wait on government or other powers-that-be to make the changes needed to transform our society into one that’s more resilient, more compassionate, more just, less selfish, more courageous, less fragile. We have to get the ball rolling right now, ourselves, by doing whatever we are able and willing to do on a personal and household level. 

Thank you for being here, and thank you for being willing to devote your precious time and energy to being part of a low-footprint-lifestyle revolution. I can promise you that your efforts will make you more adaptive, more resilient, and more free from the dead-end, death-dealing experiments we humans have drifted into. And will afford you space to create more joy and abundance in your life, and the lives of others.

This morning, it being a Saturday, I did my usual grocery shopping at our weekly farmers’ market, located a 20-minute walk or 5-minute bicycle ride from my house. It’s great being able to get 90 percent, or more, of my groceries from small businesses and local farmers in an open-air setting. (I haven’t set foot inside a supermarket in months. Never have liked the huge, artificially-cooled environment of big stores, and the pandemic gave me an extra reason to avoid them.)

As I usually do, I visited the local veggie farmer’s booth first. He only has 3 or 4 kinds of vegetables at any given time, but he grows it all himself, the prices are reasonable, and his farm is only about 20 miles from here. Support local!

Then I visit the farmer who makes cheese and yogurt, as well as kombucha and other goodies. Their farm is a little further away but still within about 50 miles. The cheese is priced a lot higher than what you get at the supermarket, but I get to have cheese and yogurt (things I enjoy and am not willing to give up) without supporting factory farming. It’s a deal I make with myself; since I can afford to pay the extra, I do. I would not impose this on anyone else, especially a cash-strapped family of hungry teenagers. We each have to make our own deals and tradeoffs. I know lots of people who don’t eat any dairy or meat, period, so their food footprint is probably lower than mine.

There’s also the fact that I eat what some people call “junk food.” Yes, I like Doritos and Cheese Nips and snack cakes. It’s not an everyday indulgence, or even an every-week indulgence for me, but it’s more than a lot of other people I know (and less than a lot of others).

After shopping at the dairy farmer’s booth, I move on to the “discount food guy.” This large tent is a kingdom in itself, filled with odd brands, goods in dented cans, gourmet crackers, sauces, nut-butters and whatever else he happened to get this week from retailers who needed to clear out their stock. I suspect that at least some folks love shopping there as much for the surprise factor (“Look! A jar of wasabi mustard!”) as for the prices (“…And it’s only a dollar!”). But most of his customers, I suspect, really depend on the odd-lot foods he offers at bargain prices. I know there have been times in past years, very lean times, that I’ve been one of that latter group.

Today I snatched up a bottle of almond oil (never seen that before; added it to my collection of cooking oils), a jar of olive paste, and a couple boxes of Lucky Charms cereal. I always loved Lucky Charms as a kid. Our parents mostly stuck with the healthier cereals but would indulge us in a box of the sugary stuff on occasion. As a grownup, I still feel that “special treat” feeling by having the occasional box of Lucky Charms. I always get it from Food Discount Guy though, not the mega supermarket chain. My deal with myself is “You can have this as an occasional indulgence, but you need to buy it from the small Mom & Pop.”

So yeah, I’m a true omnivore. A girl whose diet emphasizes plenty of fresh produce, including weeds (from my own yard and from other good spots where I find unsung tasty edibles growing), but also includes Lucky Charms and Cheese Nips. And a full range of foods all along the “virtue spectrum.”

On many occasions I’ve had people comment that they never figured me as the type to eat “that kind of stuff” (meaning anything other than steamed weeds). They assume that because of my low-footprint lifestyle, I must have a pristine diet. A friend I ran into at the farmers’ market this morning said that when he saw the Lucky Charms.

I did something I never do. I explained, matter-of-factly, that I am a survivor of an eating disorder, and that I’ve found I eat an overall healthier diet if I allow myself to eat some foods that are not considered “healthy.” Over time, I seem to naturally want less of that so-called “unhealthy” food.

It felt good to just come out and say that in public in a matter-of-fact way. In the past (long ago in years, but never so long ago that I forget), I have been through hellish times by trying to restrict my food intake, maintain a certain very underweight body size, yadda yadda. I looked “beautiful” according to the stereotypical Anglo definition. And I was so focused on that stuff that I lived in a bubble, abandoned the people I loved most, and almost let my whole life pass me by. So now, I don’t stress out when not all of my food choices are so-called “good foods.” I just give thanks to be alive in a healthy body, enjoying food and not letting rigid attitudes monopolize my brain and run my life. (Note: Of course I’m not trying to tell you to eat foods that you know are bad for your health. Or do anything else that you know is bad for you. Each person is different, and you have to pay attention to your own needs.)

Two key points here: 1) As I say repeatedly in my book and on this blog, a low-footprint lifestyle is something you create to your own specifications. Most of us have factors that add to our footprint in some way. It’s fine! Do your best; make allowances; compensate in other areas where you can. 2) A low-footprint lifestyle is easier to achieve if it’s primarily motivated by love rather than guilt. Love for this beautiful planet, love for future generations, love for our families and friends, love for the ancestors to whom we owe our existence in this incarnation, love for ourselves and our life goals.

Take care of your health, both physical and mental. Enjoy your hobbies and treats. You can live at a tiny fraction of the default USAmerican footprint without giving up being you. Maybe when more people realize that, we’ll have more people choosing to pursue a low-footprint path.

Further Reading:

Of Zoom Lenses and Morality Gyms. (Blog post by Vicki Robin, author of Your Money Or Your Life.)

Continue certifying for benefits; seek help with bills; and work on your budget. That’s the advice in this article by Lauren Schwahn of NerdWallet.com (published in today’s Daytona Beach News-Journal) on what to do now that the extra $600 a week in unemployment benefits has expired.

I particularly want to emphasize item #3: Work on your budget. And I want to emphasize it in a deep, systemic way. As in, look at your life. Look at what you’d want to change about your work and your living circumstances (even if there were not a pandemic happening; even if you are not unemployed). And look at what costs you’d be willing to cut to make it happen.

Look at creating a home-based business, or a business with neighbors. One that’ll always be needed, come what may — pandemic, recession, or whatever else.

Who do you know that always has plenty of work; what kinds of goods or services are they offering? What are your talents, skills, interests? What’s needed in your community; are there needs currently under-served or completely unmet?

Find the intersection of those three questions. As you are working on paring your budget, you may well find a reciprocal relationship between budget and self-employment: Creating your own job can help reduce your overhead expenses radically. AND, radically reducing your overhead expenses can give you the leeway to create your own job and be able to make a viable living at it.

If you’re super thrifty and super determined, and good at setting your priorities and sticking to them, even a “boutique” business like making custom birthday candles can pay your bills! I just now made that up — “custom birthday candles” — but it does sound promising! People will set aside money to spend for a dear friend or family member’s gift even during hard economic times. In fact, as people cut consumption of mass-produced items, the one-of-a-kind item, from a real person they know, could become a hot commodity.

Other potentially robust ventures: tutoring (by Zoom or phone); edible landscaping; knife-sharpening; bicycle repair; mending; laundry service; custom letter-writing; mobile ice & beverage delivery.

Mobile service is especially a plus for repair businesses; I swear if someone near me doesn’t start a mobile knife-sharpening service, I may have to! And I don’t even know how! I am grateful that one of our best bicycle shops offers mobile repair service.

My household just sent out a huge filthy load of laundry to a local laundry service for the first time. We were delighted with the speed, cleanliness, and friendliness of the service. They zip around town in cute little vans, serving both commercial and residential customers. (For my Daytona Beach area readers, I’m talking about Midtown Laundry. Five Stars for their quality, and also for their social mission, which includes a “second chance” policy of employing people who have served time.)

This is going to sound insane or impossible to some, but if you take the advice in my book and on this blog, you can reduce your daily overhead expenses to such a low level that you can have the freedom to work at the occupation of your choice. It may not always be smooth sailing, but you might find you can accept a bit of instability as a tradeoff for your creative freedom. After all, a large percentage of the population is already dealing with economic instability, even before the pandemic, and even though they spent their lives making the societally defined “right” choices and coloring within the lines.

In addition to asking yourself what you truly want to do, also ask yourself where you truly want to live. With so many people out of work, or in precarious job situations, it’s a good time to really allow yourself to look deep. If there’s somewhere you’d rather be, explore how you might make it there. A lot of people who aren’t out of work, but are working from home, are suddenly realizing their geographic options have widened. Don’t be the person who wants to live by the ocean “someday.” Or in the mountains. Maybe it’s not so far-fetched to think you could live there now!

Lower your overhead; expand your options.

(This is part 2 of a 2-part post; you can read part 1 here.) I wrote it back in June, but with schools now reopening in person (in many cases by official force, against the will of teachers, families, and communities), it seems more relevant now than ever.

Following is a letter I sent on June 4 to a citizens’ board I’ve been serving on, but recently decided to step down from. Partly because I’m not willing to meet indoors, but really at the root of it more because I have had the joy of serving on this board for a couple of years and want to give someone else the chance. The chairman’s announcement that meetings would be resuming, and that they’d be indoors rather than outdoors or by Zoom, just helped crystallize my decision.

Hi {everyone}, This subject is important enough that I feel compelled to put it in writing. Over the past few months, local governments and other organizations have demonstrated that meetings can be held by Zoom or other teleconference tools rather than in person. 

{Name of leader}, it was through you that I first learned that the 1918 pandemic came in waves, the second wave in the fall much more severe than the first wave in the spring. Am I particularly worried about catching the virus myself? No. But I do know many others who are afraid. And I feel that local government should be more protective of the public health by setting an example of caution. Our practices help shape what’s considered “normal and acceptable” by the public. 

Personally, I am focused on environmental concerns. Now that the world has amassed months of proof that so many meetings don’t need to happen in person — can just as well be held virtually — I am not, as an environmentalist, willing to go back.

Our focus on this board is urban redevelopment. Have you ever noticed how much of our discussions are dominated by cars and parking? Obviously cars aren’t going away anytime soon, and many people can’t walk, bicycle, or take public transport. But as a board promoting responsible development and creative solutions, we have an opportunity to set an example of reducing the car-dependency that has degraded so much of our urban environment. We also have an opportunity to help people save time by being able to meet from their own homes.

Just my two cents in writing, for what it’s worth as a board member stepping down. Please hold meetings of this board by teleconference rather than in person.

With regard and respect, {my signature}

I hope that fellow eco-minded citizens will find these words helpful in standing up to peer pressure (as well as standing up to their own inner pressure). If we want a “normal” that is in line with our environmental awareness, we have to lead the way!

Pollinators and other beneficial insects are dying out. Causes are multiple but the use of insecticides in residential landscaping is a biggie.

National Wildlife Federation’s blog offers simple advice on reducing the mosquito population in your yard. Getting rid of standing water, which harbors mosquitoes in their aquatic larval stage, is more effective than spraying your landscape for adult mosquitoes. And you avoid killing other insects.

Mosquito repellent is another way to protect yourself from bites without spraying your yard. However, DEET and other chemicals from the repellent still end up in our waterways.

Natural repellents smell nice, and avoid introducing poisons into the environment, but aren’t as effective.

The best solutions I’ve found for avoiding bites are: 1) screened outdoor space; and 2) what I call “mosquito clothes.” These are loose-fitting, long-sleeved shirt plus long skirt or long pants. And SOCKS. Socks are key. Ideally, have your mosquito clothes be white or another very light color. Mosquitoes are attracted to dark colors.

If you can avoid buying repellent, you’ll save yourself money and also cut down on your plastic consumption (all those little spray bottles).

Broadening the discussion to unwanted insects in general … Recently I heard someone quote Doug Tallamy (an entomologist who’s a big promoter of the movement to re-wild yards) as saying that if you have an insect problem in your yard, just back up 10 feet.

What I take from this is don’t micromanage. Let nature do its work. Also, many so-called “nuisances” are only nuisances in the eyes of humans. Almost any critter we hate is a food source for some critter we love.

My yard has a sizable population of “lubbers.” These are giant grasshoppers that eat almost any plant, and that have few predators because they are poisonous to eat. (Yep, one of the first things I asked when I saw the giant bugs is “Are they edible?” Alas, no. Apparently even fish spit them out.)

The first year I lived in my house, I thought my garden would never recover from the lubbers. But most plants survived, and those that didn’t survive were more likely killed by my grey thumb than by lubbers. This year, my second year in this house, I’ve been able to relax a bit, not panic so much at the sight of the chomped leaves.

I would not recommend using any insecticides in a residential yard. In many countries, they’re not even used on public lands or in agriculture. I once heard a fellow permaculturist say that a well-balanced ecosystem is self-policing. Although we have sent large swathes of the planet out of balance with our toxic and intrusive land-management practices, I still trust nature’s police force, even in an imbalanced ecosystem, more than I trust humans.

By letting go of the need to micromanage the insect population of our yards, we can decrease the volume of toxins in our immediate surroundings, on our land, and in our waterways, while saving ourselves a lot of time and money.

I still don’t like getting bitten by mosquitoes. But when I think of mosquitoes as dragonfly food, bird food, and bat food, I can appreciate their place in the web of life.

In my book, I mention that I follow the news just enough to be aware of what’s going on; not so much that I’m overwhelmed with hopelessness. My main information diet is successful case studies and low-tech, decentralized solutions.

That said, when bad news hits, I use it as an opportunity to redouble my commitment to popularizing low-footprint living, and to remind myself why it matters.

In this week’s news I found several such stories.

• A Quarter of Bangladesh is Flooded. Millions Have Lost Everything (nytimes.com) “The country’s latest calamity illustrates a striking inequity of our time: The people least responsible for climate change are among those most hurt by its consequences. …The average American is responsible for 33 times more planet-warming carbon dioxide than the average Bangladeshi.”

• “When Disasters Overlap” (by Christopher Flavelle in the New York Times “Climate Forward” email newsletter): “…[T]his is what living with climate change will look like: Not just an epic, Katrina- or Sandy-scale catastrophe every few years (though probably that, too), but a relentless grind of overlapping disasters, major and minor. The number of disasters that FEMA is handling is about twice what it was three years ago, before Hurricane Harvey struck Texas, and that doesn’t include its pandemic response. Disaster preparation and recovery have blurred into a single frenzied motion, never ending but also never quite succeeding. The consequences of that shift are only starting to become apparent. Homeowners begin rebuilding after a flood, only to flood again; cities watch their tax rolls shrink as property values fall; emergency managers at every level of government are exhausted. And then, there’s the money: Federal watchdogs have begun warning, with increasing urgency, that the nation’s disaster spending is not sustainable.”

• “Canada’s Last Intact Ice Shelf Collapses.” (AP, Seth Borenstein, published in Daytona Beach News-Journal). “Temperatures from May to early August in the region have been 9 degrees warmer than the 1980 to 2010 average, University of Ottawa glaciology professor Luke Copland said. This is on top of an Arctic that already had been warming much faster than the rest of globe, with this region warming even faster. ‘Without a doubt, it’s climate change,’ Copland said, noting the ice shelf is melting from both hotter air above and warmer water below.”

Although my low-footprint lifestyle seems wacky or extreme to mainstream folks, and even to some fellow environmentalists, it is deeply rooted in heart AND reason. Reading these articles might help people understand why I’m so committed to showing that a resident of the United States can have a high quality of life while radically reducing their eco footprint. And it helps me to remind myself that I’m not crazy or extreme. What’s extreme is what we (residents of rich industrialized nations, especially the United States), are doing to the planet (ecosystems, wildlife, and of course traditional cultures and indigenous peoples) with our overconsumption.

The Covid shutdown has had a silver lining of showing us how much of a difference it makes, rather quickly, to the environment when millions of people in the wealthy industrialized nations cut back sharply on transportation and other consumption.

Every bit you do to consciously minimize consumption (especially electricity, gasoline, jet fuel, and discretionary shopping are biggies), and to socially de-legitimize excess and thoughtless consumption, helps. And I thank you for your participation in the #GrassrootsGreenMobilization .

If you boil water for coffee or tea, there’s usually some hot water left over in the kettle or pot. Making hot water takes a lot of energy; don’t let that precious resource go to waste! Pour the hot water onto a washcloth and use it on your face. (Thanks for that one, Ro!) Wonderful not only in cold weather but in HOT weather too, believe it or not! I think it must have something to do with the hot water making the hot air feel cool by comparison.

Other uses for that leftover hot water in the kettle:

• pour into a greasy cookpot to rinse out the grease (and when you’re done, dump this hot water outside on a bare path of soil or driveway etc rather than down the drain, and rather than onto the yard where it could burn plants and little critters)

• pour onto a slightly used dishtowel or washcloth to give the cloth a quick refresh without having to launder

• add to your wash-bucket to create warm water for washing

• pour onto household rags and use for cleaning

• etc etc etc – how will YOU use your leftover hot water today?

More kettle tips:

• Train yourself to hear when the water has reached your preferred temperature for drinking, washing, or other use. There’s a significant energy difference between bringing water to a boil (212 Fahrenheit or 100 Celsius), and only needing to bring it to (say) 170 or 180 degrees Fahrenheit. Whether I’m using an electric kettle made of plastic, or a conventional teapot on the stove, I can hear by the sound of the water (or a certain way the kettle is ticking as it heats up) when my water is ready, and immediately turn off the kettle.

• A kettle in which you have just finished heating water, and poured the water out of, still contains enough heat so you can put a bit of cold water in the kettle and get some “free” warm water. In other words, you are capturing the heat from the kettle walls. This heat-capture technique works better with a metal kettle on the stove than with a plastic plug-in kettle.

#MindfulUse #EveryLittleBitCounts #NormalizeConservation