10 jan 15 sunset

sunset from the Ridge House

Like a beautiful sunset, this song by Carrie Newcomer reminds me how many parts of life are beautiful in their simplicity and that pleasure and meaning in life are all around us.  I don't know if it's the sentiments or the deep richness of her voice, but I can't hear this song without getting a catch in my throat.

I Believe

I believe there are some debts that we never can repay
I believe there are some words that you can never unsay
And I don't know a single soul
Who didn't get lost along the way.

I believe in socks and gloves knit out of soft grey wool,
And that there's a place in heaven for those
Who teach in public school.
And I know I get some things right,
But mostly I'm a fool.

I believe in a good strong cup of ginger tea,
And all these shoots and roots will become a tree.
All I know is I can’t help but see
All of this as so very holy.

I believe in jars of jelly put up by careful hands,
I believe most folks are doing about the best they can,
And I know there are some things that I will never understand.

I believe there’s healing in the sound of your voice,
And that a summer tomato is a cause to rejoice,
And that following a song was never really a choice.
Never really.

I believe in a good long letter written on real paper and with real pen,
I believe in the ones I love and know I’ll never see again,
I believe in the kindness of strangers and the comfort of old friends,
And when I close my eyes to sleep at night it’s good to say,
“Amen”

I believe that life is comprised of smiles and sniffles and tears,
And in an old coat that still has another good year,
And I know that I get scared some times
But all I need is here.

I believe in a good strong cup of ginger tea,
And all these shoots and roots will become a tree,
All I know is I can’t help but see
All of this as so very holy,

I believe.

4 apr 10 practice resurrection

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.

So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.

Listen to carrion—put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn’t go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.

Practice resurrection.

Wendell Berry
Collected Poems, 1957-1982

21 sep 09 motor-free day ... week?

This week is the annual Green Commuter Challenge (GCC) at my work place (an international NGO). As the coordinator for our office, I try to lead by example. Paul and I carpool most days, so I don't feel guilty about my normal practice. GCC, however, has the hope to inspire those who do travel by themselves in their cars to try something different this week. So this week I will try something different - I'm going to attempt to bike to work four days in a row.

Where did I get this crazy idea? Oh, I know this isn't a crazy idea to many people, and if I lived closer to work, both in distance and elevation, I wouldn't think it odd either. I've often thought about doing it. That's one reason why I outfitted my touring bike with fenders and a new bell in April. Why now? My crazy brother Scott. He's going Motor-Free all month. Granted, he's got advantages I don't have (lives close to work in a temperate climate), but I thought, if Scott can do it for a month, can't I do it for a work week? So I set myself a challenge.

Today, the fall equinox, was my first day. I almost changed my mind when I walked B in the cold, dark, and rain at 6:30 am. A quick check of email included one from a biking friend who was going to try also to go car-free. An email from my friend Rose reminded me that she and her husband bike to work almost every day, and that today is Rose's birthday, and that it's also International World Peace Day. Given that the fight for oil is a huge source of strife in this world, I thought I'd do my part for peace and not use any gas for the day.

By the time I got out of the house, the rain had stopped and I was pedaling through tunnels of golden birch leaves. As always, the bike commute in was invigorating. Total pedaling time: 47 minutes, which is just a little slower than typical for the 11.25 mile commute.

On the ride home, I felt like I could do this every day this week ... until I got to the last 3 miles, which are steadily up hill. Total pedaling time: 65 minutes. A few minutes slower than usual, maybe because the ride included an extra half mile over the morning commute to check out a alternate route at the Tudor-Elmore intersection.

Tomorrow is World Car-Free Day. Paul has agreed to commute to and from work via bike with me. So I'm almost assured of meeeting the challenge two days. Wednesday will be the tough day -- I've got an after-work meeting which won't lengthen my trip much but will ensure a partial ride home in the dark and will make me figure out how to safely (and drily) carry a laptop.

If I can make it four days in a row, I can rest and telecommute on the fifth, which still earns GCC points and fits with my normal work week. Then I hope to stretch the work week challenge to a full week motor-free and only bike or walk on the weekend. Wish me luck!

21 apr 09 bicycle commuter

the commuter bike, in front of the snow berm at the end of the driveway;

the ash line is still below the surface

I didn't really make any resolutions this year, but one of my hopes is to commute via bike more. To kick that off, I pedaled to my favorite bike shop this past Friday and bought fenders for my touring bike and a new sonorous bell for the bike paths. The fenders are to eliminate the need for rain pants whenever it's the least wet, especially if I'm wearing street clothes while riding. The bell was because the spring on my old bell was loose and I felt like the ice cream truck all the way to the shop. I'll ride my mountain bike sometimes, especially when I've got the option for a long ride home through the park, but my 1991 Miyata 600 GT will be the main commuter.

Spending money often motivates me because I hate to waste money. Thus the fender purchase. Another thing that can motivate me is keeping records and seeing what I've accomplished. So I zeroed out my bike computer and put in a new battery to make sure it would get through another year. The odometer read 962.8, but I'm not sure when I last replaced the battery. I bought this computer almost exactly 3 years ago when I lost the back off the old one the evening before the Gold Nugget triathlon (I just pedaled hard and hoped I was hitting my pace.)

I have two vague goals : "bike commute more" and "get in shape." Paul and I usually drive to work together because our offices are within a mile of each other. Paul doesn't like to bike to work (messes up his hair and he gets sweaty). So if I ride in alone, it doesn't reduce our carbon footprint but it could reduce my waistline. I'll only reduce our fossil fuel dependence if he isn't going to work one day or if I can convince him to bike in with me. During the summer and fall we usually bike home at least one evening a week and get creative about retrieving the extra vehicles downtown (movies at the museum on Sunday evenings, Saturday market).

This Sunday Paul pedaled to Quaker Meeting with me in the afternoon. The creek paths are still slushy so we toured the neighborhoods east of Lake Otis as much as possible to get down to Tudor. On Monday morning I rode to work. Assuming Chester Creek is not very rideable yet on my touring bike, I took the opportunity to tour Fairview to make my way downtown. Paul served as sag wagon and carted my clothes, food for the week, and homework to my office.

This evening Paul and I rode home together. My odometer already reads 48 miles after just 5 days. It's a beginning to what I hope will be many happy hours commuting to work, Friends, and errands.

12 mar 09 Repossessing Balance

This economic downturn didn't seem so scary to me last fall. With Barack Obama being elected president and a democratic senator emerging in Alaska, the world's future looked so hopeful. We traveled over the New Year and heard more stories of crisis and how tourism was dropping in Asia. We felt fortunate to be there and have jobs to return to, and we went on our merry way.

Even after we returned to Alaska, I wasn't worried. One of my co-workers expressed her fear about what might happen at our non-profit and I was surprised. Then a week later one departure was announced. Another week and two more layoffs. So this situation was going to get personal. People I knew, admired, liked, people who were part of my daily life, were going to be hurt. I wasn't worried about my own job but the future didn't look so bright.

How do you keep the fear and stress from rising? I can rationalize that I shouldn't worry, but then I talk with that friend who's out of work or hear another story on the radio about somebody losing their home or retirement. Short of tuning out, what is there?

One of the things that has brought me hope has been the chance circumstance that a radio interview program called Speaking of Faith airs about the same time we've been driving back from Talkeetna these past few weekends. The guests are religious folk, Christian, Muslim, and Buddhist; authors and poets; scientists and bankers; economists and secular humanists. The discussion eventually gets around to whatever 'faith' is for them. It may be God, natural laws of science, goodness of people.

SoF has a series called Repossessing Virtue where the conversation centers on whether the current economic crisis is also a moral and spiritual crisis. The answers to that question have fascinated me. So much so that I've been visiting the website to listen to more past guests. It almost seems like the show's producers are screening the guests for a combination of optimism and wisdom. Their individual answers vary but there's definitely a common theme -- reexamine what gives your life meaning. For most of us, it's not our bank account or our paycheck. It's our relationship to our family, friends, and community. For many of us, it's also our communion with the natural world (see the Wendell Berry and Anne Frank pieces in the right-hand column.)

If I had named the series, I think it would have been Repossessing Sanity or Repossessing Balance or Repossessing Values.

22 feb 09 Practice Resurrection

Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.

Say that your main crop is the forest

that you did not plant,

that you will not live to harvest.

Say that the leaves are harvested

when they have rotted into the mold.

Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.

Put your faith in the two inches of humus

that will build under the trees

every thousand years.

... Practice Resurrection.

Resurrection. Recession. Reset.

That excerpt from Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front by Wendell Berry is framed in our Talkeetna outhouse; it's part of the decor in homage to nature, spirituality, and right living. When I read it this afternoon, I immediately connected it to two conversations we had with our friend Ellen this weekend. This morning she said she'd heard that our economy routinely needs a reset, and that's a less depressing word than depression. Last evening she was debunking the whole capitalist theory of the stock market and making money that you don't work for. She is a radical.

I looked up the entire poem and saw that Ellen and Wendell have thoughts in common.

So, friends, every day do something

that won’t compute. Love the Lord.

Love the world. Work for nothing.

Take all that you have and be poor.

Love someone who does not deserve it.

Denounce the government and embrace

the flag. Hope to live in that free

republic for which it stands.

Give your approval to all you cannot

understand. Praise ignorance, for what man

has not encountered he has not destroyed.

I wonder what would happen if our economy reflected the values that Wendell Berry espouses in this poem: long-term thinking, care for the Earth, care for each other, .... Would the world economy be plummeting now, would my co-workers be losing their jobs, would I worry about whether or not my 401k is going to fund my retirement ... if our society wasn't based on buying, buying, and making money?

If you're ready to become a radical resurrectionist, read Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front by Wendell Berry in its entirety.

24 dec 08 Trekking in Upcountry Laos

As I look back through our photos of our days in Laotian villages, I am struck by the simplicity of these people's lives. No electricity at two villages because they don't have enough water to generate power. No outhouse or water, other than shrubs and the spring, at those villages either. At all the villages, timber-framed houses with bamboo-mat walls; most of these don't have windows so the heat can be retained in the winter and the smoke in the summer to keep out the mosquitos. If the houses aren't raised on stilts, then the floors are dirt. The same structure, just larger, is used at the schools. The kitchen is one or two pots over an open fire or rough fire pit.

Off the paved roadways, the villages are accessible by dirt trail. A motorized vehicle, something like the front half of a tractor, can pull a trailer over most of the rutted tracks that are wide enough. The numerous creeks have no bridges.

Our Anchorage home seems very palatial in comparison. Even our Talkeetna cabin, without water or electricty, seems like a luxurious house.

Click here to see more photos of the villages in the Nam Ou Valley that we reached by hiking and by boat.