the spinning wheel

last i wrote i was supposed to be getting on my sewing horse and flying. well it ended up that the week brought with it a lyme attack on my husband and daughter, of which we were hoping the antibiotics were finally working their devious magic. and a bizarre awareness alighted upon me: i hadn’t ever worked my sewing machine before.

thusly i bravely started down two divergent paths at the same time: reresearching lyme and caring for their symptoms while learning how to use my forty year old sewing machine. attempting this subatomic particle-like maneuver, i discovered that in my earlier efforts not to waste food and can, can, can, i had ignored my files which were now overflowing and the laundry was towering towards the ceiling, threateningly. forget actually taking care of the dogs, cat, goat, chickens, oh and yes did i mention that i have two kids and a husband? occasionally they might require some attention as well. so it is that over a week has passed an i have missed my self-imposed deadline for sewing my bag and thus for writing. i hang my head in shame.

so i have been frustrated this week. i didn’t finish the project i wanted and feel the need for support for this effort in living righteously. i joke not only because i find religion hokey, but because despite that, i find respecting my environment has become my religion, it informs my art. it gives me form and function, something to laugh and live about.

often it seems, especially with so many serious issues out there such as insane people fighting not to have health care reform ( i digress- having been convinced, now that we have a black president, that all things the government touches is bad and destined to control our lives. but seriously folks, doesn’t your health insurance carriers decide what they will cover or not now? i know, we have the lyme to put the bill in our hands. our bills are sky high, and empire, seemingly randomly pays some but not others. ) but i digress some more...

so there are real other issues out there. many seeming even more pressing than living the way we should. our culture has gone so far astray that trying to live a sustainable lifestyle, one without poisons, plastics and a consuming passion- seems like a pipe dream. seems impossible. you have to live outside the loop, in a bubble, isolated from all. it makes trying to live, and yes i am finally going to say it, living the right way, feel like naval gazing.

so i finally i do it, i ask for support. anyone out there in the same boat? anyone trying and getting frustrated? or just trying and would like company? maybe right now it is just naval gazing. but the truth is that it is the culture of the mass consuming society is what got us into so many problems. if we were able to live sustainably by demanding accountability from the manufacturers to create goods that are not toxic and are reusable made by people with fair wages, how much more peace would there be in to the world? how much cleaner would our air and water be? if we were not oil dependent, how many wars would be diverted? if the health of the people and the planet were held in higher esteem than that of profits, wouldn’t we have more time to focus on being able to get along together?

taking responsibility for the way we live is really taking the bull by the horns. you get tossed about and bruised. and there is a lot of bull out there, let me tell you. i tell myself, it is the only way.

crisis of faith

* our first sunflower of the year!

i feel as though i have been separated from this blog. it has been a few days, but not that long. i feel as though it has been weeks, months, years since i have written you. illness has been a barrier to my cause here (a stomach virus running virulently through my house and my father’s subsequent heart problems have distracted me).

but it feels like more, oh no, it feels like i have had a crisis of faith. i have had moments when i have felt weak. initially, i had a great moment, a revelation. i saw the light and all was clear. the church bells were ringing and my head was screwed on straight. the light streamed down from the heavens and the almighty smiled upon me with streaming rays of fractured light broken through the clouds. he spoke to me, “you shall not indulge in the disaster that is the modern world, this plastic, consuming, wasteful society.” and the earth shook and so did my knees. this powerful vision lifted the polyester veil off my eyes and revealed to my heart my mission and gave my fists the power to lift up in defiance against the mad, speed driven, hungry, angry world. and i gave my howard dean scream....

my focus was so clean and clear, (especially when my daughter wasn’t here). i gardened, i cooked, i canned. then i started getting deeper into it. cant waste food. cant waste food. must save... so i bought jars and started canning. made butter, yogurt, some cheese, granola.... and more. more time and energy was put into preparing food. more research done. now there seems to be less time to spend with my family. when i die, just pickle me then landfill me. the refuse of our great society will entomb me and i will last longer than Tutankhamen.

fun, fun, where did the fun go? the truth is i really enjoy cooking and being mindful and poking fun at myself for trying. but then a day comes where there is so much plastic being used and dumped that it feels like an avalanche burying my faith, suffocating my passion. today i wanted to take a picture of all the plastic that my family threw away, but i thought it would be too depressing. we went to see my father in the hospital. in the name of cleanliness, to stem the spread of any vaguely potential disease, plastic cups were disposed of left and right. and here goes my mea culpa, my liberal guilt, my lash myself on the back with plastic pokey things till i feel the flush of pain. i didn’t have my cup, and i didn’t even try to make sure everyone even kept their own or tried to mark each one. nothing. i did nothing as cup after cup went in the waste basket, filling up faster than you can say armageddon. (ok, so i like hyperbole, shoot me with a nuclear missile.)

but really, i felt so glad my father was well, (and a little shell shocked at the thought of his demise), i seemed sideswiped by this new chain of events. i realized how my own lack of preparedness lead me to this place. why didn’t i even have a cup with me? if i can’t remember, who can?

i talked to my husband and told him that i was resolved to hook my cup to my pants. he said it would be unwieldy. i said so what? he said, i would like to have a bag with a plate, cup and utensils in it. and just have it all the time, like a pocketbook, handbag sort of thing. wow! the lights lit brighter, the angels started to sing in my ear again.

of course i had tried an earlier version of this, but i kept the bag in the car, and only took it out when i knew i was going to eat. that put the guerilla eating events on the attack. i was often unprepared for such events, just as the hospital visit had derailed me.

but now i am newly excited and motivated (and have a new lease on life along with my father). now i will be sewing and saving some fabric from the landfill and making my own bags with pockets for dishes and silverware and a cup. i must get on my sewing horse and fly now.