The Wanting is the Hardest Part

Lately, when I take my youngest son into a store he is overwhelmed with wanting. Indeed, he wants everything, not taking into account whether he likes what he sees or would use it. Everything is so wonderful.

I found out a few months ago that the wanting made him feel badly. Because he couldn't have what he wanted, he thought he was bad for wanting it. Oh no, I told him. Even grown-ups go into stores and want things. Sometimes they are things we would use and love, and sometimes they are shiny and new and grab us by virtue of a color, font, package, or function.

The desire, the wanting, it is part of who we are and part of the culture we live in. On a rare trip to a bookstore my oldest, who has recently become a proficient reader, was suddenly awakened to the multitude of books available. Books he recognized! King Arthur! The Three Musketeers! Robin Hood! He saw a sign on a table and mistook Humor for Homer, and well, you should have seen his excitement at the idea of piles of books written by Homer!

I quickly told him that most of the books he was interested in could be found at the library. Now, the library is wonderful. It just isn't designed to grab you the way a bookstore is. There is little merchandising. There is no holiday music in the background, and certainly not the scent of coffee and warm baked goods. For the most part, children can't see the covers of books. That's really sad, because if they could, they might check out something that they had never heard of before.

As we embark on a year of mindful buying, it is helpful to remember that the wanting is not a bad thing. It simply is a desire, like any other. It is what we do with the wanting that takes on significance. Do we need it? Can we get is used? Can we use something else? Can we do without?

Where was is made? By whom? How was that person paid? How was that person treated? How are the costs externalized? How much energy was used to make and transport the goods?

Why do we want it? Are the advertisers appealing to emotion? Are they trying to make us think that our lives would be better if we just had their product? Is that true?

It becomes a new way of thinking, and then a new way of living. None of us can be perfect. We can, however, go past the wanting and look into what it is we want, and why, and then we consider the ethical impacts of our desires, as well as our own lives and happiness.

Holding Space

This is where I am going to journal about our Compacting/Riot 4 Austerity year in 2008.

Simple Winter Holidays

(My apologies to anyone reading this in the Southern Hemisphere, where Christmas, Hanukkah, Diwali, and the new year may all take place during summer.)

I grew up with big C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S. Presents piled to the ceiling, huge family gatherings, feasts in the American tradition. Even the years that were lean had big Christmases; the Salvation stepped in to help us one year, and credit card companies filled in for Santa many a year.

Papa really didn't know what to make of my big Christmas. His had always been more simple; the gifts were few and most likely something they as children needed. There were toys too, but rarely anything that would elicit a Wow! Raised in the Catholic Church, Christmas involved mass, and having a Mexican-American mother meant that the included many traditional Latino activities in their holiday plans. We make almond crescent cookies, they made tamales.

Twenty years ago, when we had our first married Christmas, I did my best to make it big, on a budget. We didn't have a major credit card back then, but I'm sure JC Penney helped us out. We had the traditional big breakfast with my family, and spent the rest of the day driving to Tucson to meet up with Papa's family. His grandmother was getting remarried the next day.

I could go on and describe other Christmases over the years. Let's just say we started to get extravagant as our income rose, helped along by credit and the increasing popular 0% interest for ___ months.

We probably started the slow down a decade ago. I started a savings account for Christmas each year, which helped stop the debt spiral. We found that we already had a lot of stuff and we actually wanted less. As our children were showered with gifts we began to see the wisdom in small gifts, needed gifts.

Each year we put out fewer decorations, and as we put away the decorations each year we sent some to Goodwill or the Salvation Army. The number of Christmas bins was cut by at least half.

About ten years ago we began acknowledging the winter solstice in a more formal way. At first it was something I did alone, sitting in darkness and waiting for the precise moment when the position of the earth would change and bring the light (for me, this year, it happens on 12/21 at 10:08 p.m. local time). Papa and I might get out for a walk or hike on the day of the solstice. Once the boys were a little older we began giving them solstice gifts, most often little handmade items (usually made by a talented friend). A couple of years ago we started the tradition of rolling beeswax candles a few days before, or even the morning of, the solstice.

This year the winter holidays are nearly here, and I am happy with their simplicity. We were able to buy gifts for the children that weren't manufactured in China. Our general plan is to give items that will last (both developmentally and in terms of durability) or items that are meant to be consumed (crayons and paper). Our adult gift recipients will once again receive handcrafted gifts. Adults who made a specific need known will see that need met if it is within our budget.

Within our own family we cut back our spending, and we set specific limits for Papa and I to follow. It has been freeing to acknowledge that we don't need anything. We may want many things, but our needs are taken care of.

There will still be big C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S at my dad's house. He is trying to balance his desire to get the kids everything they want with their parents' desires to not get so much. He asked for input ~ from kids and parents. Yet, for himself, he could think of very little that he needs. I think he is beginning to see the consumption from the other side.

I feel so calm and relaxed. The gifts I'm making aren't finished, and nothing has been wrapped, and I feel fine. I don't feel like I have to keep up with or compete with anyone. No longer are there subtle competitions: who got the decorations or lights up first, how many different types of cookies have been baked, are the cards sent yet, are the presents all wrapped. I stepped away from it ~ out of the mainstream.

Christmas, This Year

I think, perhaps, I had been pretending that Christmas wasn't coming this year. Oh, certainly I have procured some gifts, and I have sung a few carols. It's cold, which means December in my part of southern California. The winter holidays are upon us.

Today we put up the tree. We didn't decorate it, but we did manage to get the Lego train set up around it. We'll do a little bit each evening, and in a few evenings we'll be finished. Each year we've pared down the decorations. Each year I think that I don't want to put up the tree, and even now I dread actually decorating it. But as soon as it is finished I love it.

Today the full force of the fact that my mom is gone really hit me. I keep encountering it in little ways; thinking of her when I see Aplets and Cotlets at the local market, or when T-Guy breezes through a book that was too hard for him just last spring, or when I go to my dad's house and the bed is made. They are little things, and I will feel a little sad, and then I will fall back into rhythm. Today though, I could no longer escape the thought that my mom will not be with us this Christmas.

Perhaps it is because I helped my dad do his online shopping yesterday. Perhaps it was pulling out the silly Laker's Santa hat she gave Papa last year. Perhaps it was knowing that I haven't wrapped a single item, and she hasn't been on the phone to ask me about it.

I'm glad that we've simplified Christmas; it makes it easier to face this year. Our focus is less on stuff, and more on people. We spread the happy times over a few weeks. There is a holiday birthday party for my FIL, and we'll draw names for gifts on that side of the family. Our friends have invited us to a Solstice celebration at their home (bringing our own celebration of Solstice to a new level). There is a Christmas Eve service and party at the church that we would love to attend. Christmas morning my FIL will come over for a simple breakfast (my fancy brunch of years past is gone). That afternoon we'll gather at my dad's house, and allow the glee of the children to carry us through what will most likely be a day of teary memories. On the 27th we're heading to the desert for the day, to see Abuela and visit the desert zoo. Then on the 29th the whole big family will gather for a day of cousins. Our plans for the new year are up in the air, however we are thinking we'll have a simple, elegant meal on New Year's Eve and then invite friends to stop by on New Year's Day for a soup potluck open house.

It sounds like a lot, and it is. What makes me smile is the focus on family and friends.

Bring Your Dog Into Your Food Chain

Ssshhh . . . don't tell the vet. I feed my dog table scraps. In fact, most weeks she doesn't have a bite of commercial dog food. I'm not feeding her a fancy biologically appropriate raw food or bones and raw food diet, either. No, I just finally decided that if it was good for us, it was good for her. I learned that she could eat foods that we might not choose to, such as chicken organs and skin, or leftovers that are a little past their prime.

It has been really easy to feed her. When I make chicken or turkey stock, I careful pick through all of the (hundreds of tiny) bones to get every bit meat I can. I pull out the veggies too, the garlic cloves, carrots, and celery. To these things I add any leftover grain in our refrigerator, or I make a pot of grain just for her. Mixed together, I have homemade dog food that well, looks and smells a bit like dog food, except I know every ingredient in it. No chance of melamine.

I give her leftovers and scraps, too. She'll eat meat the boys have chewed at and rejected as too fatty. She loves the skins of squash (just not too much, or we see the results). She adores apple cores. On the rare occasion that we visit a restaurant I will gather the uneaten potato skins from everyone at the table (it seems only my family eats potato skins) and take them home for her.

Sometimes a boy requests more food than he can eat. Girl-Dog gets the leftovers. Sometimes we look through the fridge and find containers with little bits of food: half a cup of soup, two tablespoons of cooked carrots, two little pieces of broccoli, etc. If it's time to feed the Girl-Dog I'll pull these things together to make her meal.

Sometimes I think of her while I'm cooking; I might toss an extra half cup of oatmeal into the porridge pot just for her, or bake an extra potato. Starches are inexpensive.

Girl-Dog is happy and healthy. Her coat shines. She's an old dog, so we try to give her as much fat as we can. She's happy to have the chicken fat skimmed off a cooled container or stock. She loves the fat trimmed off of a piece of beef (which has been rare up until this point). Heck, we trust our meat producer so much that we pour accumulated beef juices from the vacuum-pack bag right into her dish.

I've yet to cook and prepare meat just for Girl-Dog. The closest we've come to that is cutting up a pot roast that was cooked incorrectly and was dry and seemingly inedible (a lesson learned, to be certain, about pot roasts, slow cookers, and blindly following recipes). She isn't picky about her proteins, however. She'll happily eat leftover pinto beans, whole or refried.

I don't worry that I feed my dog table scraps. I feed her real food, food that I am willing to eat myself. Our food waste is almost non-existent (I've yet to dry chicken bones and grind them into bone meal to supplement her calcium intake). I have a container of commercial dog food that I've had for some time now, to have on hand should the leftovers be short one day. But overall, I have nearly eliminated our reliance on commercial dog food, which is highly processed and must be shipped great distances.

Every dog is different. Last summer I watched the Girl-Dog carefully pull tomatoes off the outdoor table, one by one, and gobble them down. They were the split culls from the morning's harvest. She loved them. I knew she wasn't a picky eater, but the tomato incident helped me to see that she would eat a wide variety of foods, and that what I might have seen as waste (or compost fodder), she saw as food. I already knew she loved apples, and cooked broccoli. She had already faithfully cleaned up the floor after each meal, leaving only raw pieces of lettuce. She, unlike some dogs, isn't too keen on raw carrots.

I've stopped believing that experts know what humans should eat, so why should I trust them when it comes to my dog. If highly processed kibble is so great, so superior to real food when it comes to dogs, then why doesn't that apply to humans? No, commercial dog food is big business, a way to sell to us food that we wouldn't choose ourselves. Humans know spoilage and the stench of disease. We know what to stay away from. Commercial dog food factories are the place they send the diseased meat, the road kill, the parts of animals that no one else wants. They also process lots of corn for our canine friends. They then, of course, have to supplement the foods with vitamins and minerals. Uh, isn't that a sign that the food would otherwise be deficient?

I'm not exactly in the camp with the B.A.R.F. folks either. Sure, Girl-Dog would probably love raw meat and bones. But my goal isn't to create a new category for her to eat from. No, she is a canine living with humans, sharing our food. In return for shelter, food, and kindness she offers companionship, unconditional love, and protection. A canine is the original lock on the door and the original smoke/fire alarm. Girl-Dog is also exceedingly good at warding off solicitors. My tip? Open the door just a crack (we have one of those old-fashioned chains, basically worthless), hold your barking canine by the collar or ruff, and watch as people back away. If they ask if she bites, say "yes", even if it isn't true. Before the person can start their sales pitch say the words "We aren't interested." Watch the magazine salesperson, the tree trimmer, and the water delivery person depart quickly.

Of course, Girl-Dog is a actually well-mannered, and is greeted warmly by friends, neighbors, repair people, mail carriers, and package delivery employees. She turns off the bark and wags her whole body as soon as she knows that she has encountered friends. Canines are smart, and she watches our body language and listens to our tone of voice, and quickly determines friend or foe.

Not a bad trade off for chicken stock leftovers, cooked vegetables, grain, and the occasional tomato cull.

Solar Energy, Now

I am fortunate that all around me, there are families like mine trying to make changes that will positively impact not only their own lives, but the lives of others as well.

I've been thinking about peak oil and scarcity, as well as about abundance. Finally, I am moving away form being scared to death about the end of oil. I am letting go of the fear, and I am welcoming in transformation.

I believe that we will live in a world that is experiencing change. I do not believe in a technological savior, but I do think that we can transition to a world based on solar electric as our main power source. It isn't going to be easy, and it isn't going to happen fast enough to prevent disease, despair, death . . .

I think, though, that it means that the little, "bottom up" changes we make as individuals will make a difference. Not a difference in terms of the end of oil, and a not a difference in terms of slowing climate change. Those are big issues. Life on our planet is going to change.

We can be at the forefront. We can harness the sun's energy now. It doesn't take huge investment and technology. We can:

Grow food. Turn the power of the sun into food calories we can consume. In turn we reduce the amount of fuel needed to bring our food to us.

Dry clothes outside. Hang a laundry line. If we need to do a lot of drying indoors, make, scavenge, or buy a drying rack. The sun's energy will dry our clothing. We unplug our electric dryers or reduce our use of natural gas.

Use the sun to warm our homes. Start by opening curtains on cold, sunny days. Eventually we may want to make a simple solar heater for our homes. Plant according to our climates. Deciduous trees near windows can keep our homes cooler in summer and then as they drop their leaves they allow more sunlight in through the windows in winter.

Use the sun to heat hot water. We can start simple. Put a dark bucket full of water in a sunny place. Use it to wash dishes, or too fill the bath tub. Eventually we may want more: there are plenty of plans on the internet. Solar hot water makes too much sense for us not to use it.

Learn to live by the natural light in our homes. How often do we flip the lights when it isn't necessary? Take a shower by the daylight already in our homes. Put reading chairs near windows.

Let the sun shine . . .

Sunday Simple Pleasures

~ sleeping in

~ talking to a friend for a few minutes about a subject dear to my heart

~ forgiveness

~ soup leftovers for lunch

~ snuggling

~ a long family walk after dinner

~ a pot of broth on a long slow simmer overnight

~ hot water bottle heat