Thursday, August 4, 2011

EcoMyths and False Salvation #1: Recycling

The LitterBug Campaign was successful in enraging a generation of Toys R' Us Kids.
Top Ten EcoMyths Introduction

As a child, my cousins and I were inundated with commercials about litterbugs. We’d see someone toss a cigarette butt out a car window, and that was it. We’d demand our parents chase them down so that we could accuse them of high treason against mother earth with our shrill cries of LITTERBUG!!! Even today when I see someone toss a McDonald’s bag out the car window, I feel a wave of disdain overtake me (Then again, if someone is trashing their own innards with McDonald’s, of course they are more likely to trash the outside world). I don’t chase them down, but I boil inside and wish I were some sort of enviro- caped crusader (or a cop able to write hefty littering tickets. No speeding tickets on my watch. I’d just fine all the LITTERBUGS out of existence!). Of course, there’s nothing to be done, so I take comfort in the fact that I reuse; I recycle. In California, most of my neighbors do as well.

Here’s the problem with recycling. The Story of Stuff: Plastic Bottles (below) explains that most of what we recycle is downcycled, which is to say, our plastic bottles are not made into plastic bottles; they are made into objects of lesser quality and functionality. Worse, our recyclables are usually sent to China or India on barges, a giant carbon footprint for questionable eco-output. What can’t be downcycled just becomes landfill material in another country; out of sight, out of mind.

When I was a Peace Corps Volunteer in Benin, I saw how resourceful people could be if necessity demands it. Every plastic bottle was reused, and most beverages came in glass bottles. After use, these bottles went back to the manufacturer, got sanitized, refilled, and put back into circulation. Such a sane model! The problem is, as we increase scale and consumption, such a model becomes less economical than simply throwing stuff away. Coca-cola makes more money off rampant destructive consumerism than conscious manufacturing practices (hence changing the recipe from “expensive” sugar to GMO corn syrup). No one wants to take responsibility for the Pacific gyre, yet we are all responsible.

I recently came across Brook Jarvis’s article about Chris Jordan, a photographer documenting the effects of plastic on the albatross population. "Bearing Witness: Chris Jordan on Art, Grief, and Transformation” in Yes Magazine documents how these poor creatures on Midway Toll Island in the Pacific actually feed their young plastic until it kills them: “…their parents try to feed them one more piece of plastic, one more cigarette lighter or magic marker, and the baby chokes to death. It's a long process of the babies just kind of flapping around, making an awful gagging sound, and then crashing into the ground and expiring.”


The images from this Pacific Island are enough to wake one out of complacence because they make tangible what is often abstract—the effects of our mass consumerism. And perhaps awareness is the single retribution that recycling offers. While corporations and governments refuse to take responsibility or proactive measures, individuals are choosing to change themselves, to do what they can to curb this monster machine. San Francisco, as always, demonstrates a model for the future with its recology program, dedicated to helping San Francisco reach its goal of zero waste through home collection of compost and recyclables. An artist in residence program allows for the creation of sculptures and found art objects. Another powerful example of making art from waste comes out of Brazil where artist Vik Muniz employed and empowered local “pickers” to create art from the garbage they sorted through tirelessly. The documentary Waste Land is a hopeful portrait of the fact that there need be no waste for objects or for people.

Resources:

Van Jones Ted Talk: The Economic Injustice of Plastic

Waste Land

Yes Magazine  (Bearing Witness: Chris Jordan on Art, Grief, and Transformation)

Recology San Francisco

The Story of Stuff: Plastic Bottles 

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Sacred Cows and Elephants in the Room: EcoMyths and False Salvations

The Monterey County Dump where semis full of trash come and go, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Within the green movement, we all have a sacred cow or two. I’ll get it out of the way and fess up that vegetarianism and biodiesel are mine. I’ll maintain to the day I die that if everyone ate a near-vegetarian diet and drove around on biodiesel, we’d have a much happier planet. After all, I did drive around the country on biodiesel to see if it were possible to make it around the U.S. without fossil fuels. While it was possible, it wasn’t easy—we just don’t have the infrastructure (or political stamina) to make biodiesel “convenient” enough for most Americans. But perhaps that’s the problem itself—we have a constant push and pull between ideals and realities…And too often, we don't dream big enough.

Along with our sacred cows, we all have a million and one salves that we apply to make ourselves feel better about the earth’s seemingly inevitable trajectory toward disaster. We carry our own water bottles and coffee mugs, lugging them around like green talismans to ward off evil eye and climate change. We shop at Whole Foods and buy organic shampoo that flows down self-installed gray water systems to our native plant gardens. We turn up our noses at SUVs and WalMart. We insert signatures in our email asking our colleagues not to print our poorly-drafted words.

Let it be said that deep in my heart, I think these are good things…but also deep in my heart (and deep within the media’s never-ending stream of information), I have been taking note of several EcoMyths and False Salvations that I present here not to stir up the already well-established divisions, but to inspire dialogue, compassionate thought, and transcendence…because where we go once we recognize the precociousness of our most sacred cows will determine everything. In part, I write these anecdotes to consolidate the myriad disparate voices I’ve encountered in recent months, to reconcile contradiction or to find comfort in ambiguity.

Following are my top 10 EcoMyths and False Salvations, as presented by my favorite mottos/slogans/bumper stickers.

1: Reduce-Reuse-Recycle
2: We Serve Only Sustainable Catch Seafood!
3: American Farmers Grew my Fuel
4: Please Consider the Environment Before Printing this Email
5: This Home/Car/Bike Powered by the Sun
6: Leed-Certified Building
7: Save the Earth: Go Vegan
8: Support Global Cooling: Drive a Hybrid
9: Gone with the Wind
10: The Singularity and Beyond

I’ll address these items one by one, blog by blog, incorporating my most recent readings and thoughts. I’ll start with the biggest elephant in the room: Recycling.

Read EcoMyths and Elephants in the Room #1 Recycling

Monday, August 1, 2011

When is it time to let go of an old friend?

We spent every waking moment together, shared intimate secrets. She protected me from storms and coyotes. We picked up hitchhikers and old friends. And now, she won’t start for the second time in as many weeks. Maybe it’s her way of rebelling against becoming a commuter car. I understand her frustration. I hate being a commuter. Regardless of Little Red’s rationale, I was beginning to have a conversation with myself: At one point do I say goodbye? When does the car become more trouble than it’s worth? How many parts can you replace before the machine becomes mutant? Is it suffering?


It’s a funny feeling to watch your car be towed away. It suddenly becomes other; it appears as it is, as an object. All sentimentality gets thrown out the window. Or does it? In the past year, I’ve replaced the starter, a strut, the fans, the radiator, and the thermostat. Most recently, I had all the rubber hosing replaced because biodiesel mercilessly had eaten away at the car’s veins. I knew I should have replaced those rubber tubes with synthetic materials like Viton, but sometimes, shoulds don’t become dids.

“No more biodiesel!” my mechanic, Mike, said.

I smiled coyly. I wouldn’t give up biodiesel or my car for the world.

One week later and my car was back at the shop.

“Now, it won’t even turn over. Seems like the alternator,” I said sadly.

“That’s about the only thing we haven’t replaced on this thing,” Mike replied.

I left the shop and went to work, expecting a repair with a big price tag later that day. But an hour later, I got an unexpected call. The alternator was fine…but the wire connecting it to the battery had been chewed through.

“Did you know you have a rat living in your car?” Mike asked.

I thought it had moved out, or if not, that we had at least worked out a friendly don't-ask-don’t-tell policy. But noooo, it had to chew threw my alternator wire. What was next—the brake lines? How was I to maintain my pacifist stance under such duress?

I set out determined to buy mousetraps, but when I got to the big box store containing the traps, I was put off by the sheer number of mouse torture devices. You could catch them with glue traps, snap traps, maze traps, shock traps...it seemed like some Middle Ages Million Ways to Die episode. I carefully read the instructions, looking for the most "humane" method, but at the end of the day, I just couldn't do it. Not only could I not let go of a friend, I also could not rid myself of an enemy.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Little Red Vs Big Mouse Part Two: I Smell a Rat


If ever there was a gruesome discovery, it was what I found under my hood that fateful day. My cat’s sudden obsession with my car began to alert me that something was afoot (literally) beneath my radar. Not gifted with supersonic ears sensitive to subterranean animals, I had no idea that I would find a nest under my hood. In my understanding of mice, I had made a few critical errors:


1) Mice live in fields, trees, bushes, and occasionally houses—not cars.
2) Mice are small.
3) Mice are not intelligent.



When I opened my hood, I discovered an intricate nest, crafted of twigs, papers, and the interior engine lining from my car. Most notably, the mouse had chosen to chew up a Charles Bukowski chapbook I had in storage in the shed, Betting on the Muse. “Now the telephone doesn’t ring, the young girls are gone, the party is over,” the shred of paper mourned.

Pele the cat followed me in my investigation, sniffing and then pulling away.



“What cat is afraid of a little mouse?” I teased.

I removed the nest, tossing the work of art into the bushes, hoping the mouse would pack up and move to a more appropriate home. Pele followed, sniffed, and ran into the house.

Next morning, it was still dark when I got in my car to go to work. Everything was quiet. Curiosity guided me to my hood again; this time, I slowly opened it and peeked in.

Prior to that morning, I had never screamed like a girl. It came out of me like a surprised drunken hurl. My hands went to my face and I did the little ballerina dance of a scared child.

This was no ordinary mouse. This was a supersized genetic oddity. A rodent on steroids. A squirrel mouse hybrid. This was the leader of the teenage mutant ninja turtles. Not Turtle Power—Rat Power!

Believing in the radical notion of non-harm, I decided to find a peaceful solution. Little did I know that my rat friend would declare war.

Little Red Vs. Big Mouse Part One: Pele's Message

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Little Red Vs Big Mouse Part One: Pele's Message


In feline-human communication, there are often misunderstandings. Recently, Pele had begun taking great interest in my car, Little Red. I would look out the window and there she was...sitting on the hood. I'd go outside and she would be sniffing around the tires or trying to get inside.




Of course I'm not one to ascribe conversational characteristics to cats (OK, fine, I am), but it seemed she was trying to tell me something. I went with the obvious:

Me: Pele, you want to go for a ride? You're so cute!
Pele: There's a mouse in your car.
Me: You're so sweet. You want to go on a road trip!

NEXT DAY:

Me: Oh, Pele. You don't want me to leave! Such a sweetheart!
Pele: There's a mouse in your car, you freakin idiot!
Me: Don't worry...I'll be home later.

I didn't question the strange squeak that came from the engine when I started the car. Little Red is an old lady, after all.

"That sound is new," I thought vaguely as I drove away.

Little Red Vs Big Mouse Part Two: I Smell a Rat

Sunday, January 9, 2011

A Guide to the Laws of Motion

Prior to the book, there was a blog...By way of introduction, let me mention that I recently finished my book about my fossil fuel free adventure around the United States. The Laws of Motion, a memoir travel narrative, takes a classic theme, the American road trip, and transforms it into a modern search for meaning, the vehicle of discovery a 15-year-old biodiesel Jetta with 200,000 miles on it. In the summer of 2009, I left my newly-purchased foreclosure home on the Monterey Peninsula and began a trip that would take me from California to Florida, up the east coast to Maine, and back across the northern Midwest. This blog chronicled my travels as they happened. Below is an interactive Google map featuring videos, photos, and text. Below the map is a table of contents--state by state, entry by entry.

Whatever road you travel, may it take you where you are meant to be.







Transmissions from the Golden State:

Emissions from the Grand Canyon State:

Communiques from Zion National Park, Utah:

Reflections from the Land of Enchantment, New Mexico:

Pipeline from Texas:

Lifelines from the Louisiana Bayous:

Keeping Georgia on my Mind (for a sec):

A Soundbyte from the Sunshine State

Another Big Ol' Lie from South Carolina

Missives from the Nation's Capitol

Throwin' Out Some Love to "Balmore, Hon"

Contradictions and Massachusetts Communications:

Gathering Storm Clouds and Thinking Caps from Maine

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

UFOs, Religious IQ, and Sport Killing: How the Media Reflects Cultural and Corporate Bias

It was an interesting morning for news stories. Normally, I fall into a hypnotic trance while getting in my morning exercise at the gym. Today, however, I was in for a bit of a surprise. The top three CNN news stories at 6am Pacific time were as follows:

US Soldiers in Afghanistan Engage in "Sport" Killing

Americans' Religious IQ Lacking

UFOs eyed nukes, ex-Air Force Personnel Say

More interesting than the news itself was the anchors' reactions to the news. Kyra Phillips was aghast at the notion that American soldiers would engage in atrocities like collecting fingers and thigh bones of civilians after killing them for sport. She asked, "Were these just bad eggs or what?" She seemed unable to fathom that after multiple tours and years of exposure to violence and stress, a human being becomes "unhinged," to put it nicely. She went on to blame the hashish that soldiers reported smoking rather than the pharmaceutical drugs (Ambien and anti-depressants) the soldiers had been taking. Meanwhile, millions of viewers wondered why the worst side effect of pot they'd ever experienced was an uncontrollable desire to finish the Ben and Jerry's in the freezer.

Next up, Phillips moved on to seven ex-Air Force Personnel who relayed their experiences in the 60s, 70s, and 80s. All reported having seen UFOs hovering near nuclear facilities. At one point in 1967, a missile facility's activation capacity was deactivated. Despite the eye witness accounts of seven former Air Force personnel (normally deified in the media), Phillips could not contain the sarcasm in her voice. She went on to banter with the weather man about "little green men."

The anchor somehow managed to take on a serious tone when reporting the fact that the most religious people in the United States scored the lowest on a test measuring religious knowledge. Atheists had the highest religious IQ, followed by Jews, then Mormons. Lowest on the totem pole were Protestants and Catholics.

It seems that our media is somehow able to discuss the fact that the most religious people in the US are the most ignorant about their religion without a hint of irony. But the idea that there may be other sentient beings in an unfathomable space/time continuum is just too hard to swallow. Meanwhile, the corporate news continually reflects bias based upon the biggest advertisers, (pharmaceuticals, anyone?) flouting basic common sense (reefer madness!!!)

Is it any wonder the traditional news media is becoming irrelevant?

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