The compact encouraged me to go down a path, and although I'm far from declaring victory on that front, it isn't enough.
The warm and fuzzies were nice for a while (and it's lovely to be part of a community that acknowledges these issues) but it ISN'T enough!!
Over at Casaubons book (see link at right) they're starting a movement to reduce energy consumption to 10% of current US average energy use.
Targets are good. What gets measured gets made. At some point you just have to draw a line in the sand. And congratulating myself on making yoghurt (and other satifying, but ultimately miniscule efforts) are nice tokens, but won't help guarantee my kids a future.
I'm going to do some research and set up a spreadsheet or something to make the maths easier. I'm going to source reasonable info to help set appropriate parameters. And I'm going to drum up all the support I can get from the wonderful community of Australian bloggers I've discovered - so we can make real change happen, together.
Who's in?
Friday, 18 May 2007
Monday, 14 May 2007
Reality check
Finally frustrated with my father (whose childhood involved begging storekeepers for bread on credit) for continuing to buy my kids more plastic garbage (and I mean garbage - stuff that breaks the same day, bought at $2 shops) I began a good natured rant at him about peak oil and found myself stunned at the things coming out of my mouth.
"For every piece of plastic you buy, every bit of cheap oil we consume, that means something that won't be available to them in the future."
"I know" he said sheepishly. I felt compelled to continue.
"That's a diabetes drug they'll need, and will not be able to buy." (his mother had diabetes throughout her life).
"I know" he said again.
"Can you imagine them knowing that their grandfather wasted his money on plastic rubbish, manufactured with oil feedstocks, transported at great expense from China, only to be thrown out the day after it was purchased, cos it was never made to last...can you imagine the day they run out of their medicine, and remember the stuff you bought for them to break and throw out?"
Dad conceded to my hysteria.
What frightened me was not what I was saying. It was the fact that when said out loud it's seriously dramatic (my husband's convinced I'm being melodramatic) and yet, somehow, it doesn't have the impact it should. For a cocktail party on the weekend, I still nearly went out to buy a cocktail shaker (and am eternally grateful to my friend for convincing me to stay true to the compact, and ring around a bit more to borrow one).
Because it's a non-negotiable idea that the oil-supply is non-negotiable. A non-renewable resource is a zero sum game: anything oil-rich you consume now (petrol, plastic, conventional agriculture or just something unnecessarily imported) is something else that can't be bought later. And it breaks my heart much more to think that I'm robbing my kids of the petrol they need to get to a doctor in 50 years. Or the drugs they'll need but that are made only overseas. The stuff of life (not "quality of life"). And yet, we have two cars.
It's a similar perspective check to the one described by Peter Singer. www.utilitarian.net/singer/by/19990905.htm
Somehow, we are psychologically inept at assessing things that are non-specific (even if certain) or distant in time or space.
I understand the ABC is about to screen a documentary "CRUDE" which I'm very much looking forward to.
"For every piece of plastic you buy, every bit of cheap oil we consume, that means something that won't be available to them in the future."
"I know" he said sheepishly. I felt compelled to continue.
"That's a diabetes drug they'll need, and will not be able to buy." (his mother had diabetes throughout her life).
"I know" he said again.
"Can you imagine them knowing that their grandfather wasted his money on plastic rubbish, manufactured with oil feedstocks, transported at great expense from China, only to be thrown out the day after it was purchased, cos it was never made to last...can you imagine the day they run out of their medicine, and remember the stuff you bought for them to break and throw out?"
Dad conceded to my hysteria.
What frightened me was not what I was saying. It was the fact that when said out loud it's seriously dramatic (my husband's convinced I'm being melodramatic) and yet, somehow, it doesn't have the impact it should. For a cocktail party on the weekend, I still nearly went out to buy a cocktail shaker (and am eternally grateful to my friend for convincing me to stay true to the compact, and ring around a bit more to borrow one).
Because it's a non-negotiable idea that the oil-supply is non-negotiable. A non-renewable resource is a zero sum game: anything oil-rich you consume now (petrol, plastic, conventional agriculture or just something unnecessarily imported) is something else that can't be bought later. And it breaks my heart much more to think that I'm robbing my kids of the petrol they need to get to a doctor in 50 years. Or the drugs they'll need but that are made only overseas. The stuff of life (not "quality of life"). And yet, we have two cars.
It's a similar perspective check to the one described by Peter Singer. www.utilitarian.net/singer/by/19990905.htm
Somehow, we are psychologically inept at assessing things that are non-specific (even if certain) or distant in time or space.
I understand the ABC is about to screen a documentary "CRUDE" which I'm very much looking forward to.
Wednesday, 2 May 2007
Confession time
Here's some things I need help with. If anyone has got any suggestions, whether practical, or philospohical, as to how we wean ourselves off these bad habits, I'd love to hear them.
We have two cars. My partner works from numerous sites all over town, and arguably, really does need his. I'd love to carshare eg http://www.goget.com.au/ and get rid of the second car, but we don't live near anything like that. Our public transport (though not bad for Sydney standards) also doesn't make the grade eg on mornings that require a kindy drop off and from there get to the city. Or groceries on the way home from work. I did get bike voucher (as requested) for Christmas, but my commute involves the infamous Heartbreak Hill(s); the Sydney region known for the worst drivers in Sydney, 50% 4WDs and no alternative backstreet routes. Since giving me his handwritten voucher, my partner has witnessed two serious bike-car incidents and is understandably concerned about safety. (I say him, but I mean me too).
I have lapses in vegetarianism (the boys and DH do not lapse, never having known anything else). These lapses have been occurring for almost 10 years. Environmental thinking is more likely to stay my fork than humanitarian thinking on the issue, when I'm faced with a tempting menu, so I try to focus on this. But still, my last screwup was only last week.
I know I should give up my New Yorker subscription, involving dead trees, significant advertising and a flight all around the globe. The articles are in any case online. But I can't bear to, not yet anyway.
We have two cars. My partner works from numerous sites all over town, and arguably, really does need his. I'd love to carshare eg http://www.goget.com.au/ and get rid of the second car, but we don't live near anything like that. Our public transport (though not bad for Sydney standards) also doesn't make the grade eg on mornings that require a kindy drop off and from there get to the city. Or groceries on the way home from work. I did get bike voucher (as requested) for Christmas, but my commute involves the infamous Heartbreak Hill(s); the Sydney region known for the worst drivers in Sydney, 50% 4WDs and no alternative backstreet routes. Since giving me his handwritten voucher, my partner has witnessed two serious bike-car incidents and is understandably concerned about safety. (I say him, but I mean me too).
I have lapses in vegetarianism (the boys and DH do not lapse, never having known anything else). These lapses have been occurring for almost 10 years. Environmental thinking is more likely to stay my fork than humanitarian thinking on the issue, when I'm faced with a tempting menu, so I try to focus on this. But still, my last screwup was only last week.
I know I should give up my New Yorker subscription, involving dead trees, significant advertising and a flight all around the globe. The articles are in any case online. But I can't bear to, not yet anyway.
Tuesday, 1 May 2007
Warm and fuzzies for free
For those who'd like to start with smaller changes, I thought I'd start a list of what to me have been complete no brainers - having no noticable impact (or a net positive impact) on my lifestyle. It's cheating really - warm and fuzzies for nothing.
- We don't wash the car
- We don't clean much at home
- We turn off the lights and use compact fluorescents. The ones marked "warm light" give light that is no different to normal incandescents.
Those really were cheating. They're SUCH no-brainers that they predate my attempt at compacting, it's just that now I have a good reason not to do these boring chores (Q. How many days does it take to change a lightbulb? A. There's a bathroom light that's been out at my place for over 3 years!)
Here are some that result from compacting
- We don't buy cleaning products, or much prepackaged food
- We don't buy disposable nappies, paper towels or tampons anymore. I was dreading vast stinking piles of urine-soaked laundry but actually, (and with the caveat that my kids are in nappies at night only) microfibre absorbent cloths and waterproof pants don't add up to much at all. THey go through with normal washing or get rinsed out in the shower. To date there have been no leaks or other major issues.
- As I'm packing kindy lunches now anyway, I'm often making some for us grownups too. I don't have to brave city foodcourts anymore. I prefer to potter in my office kitchen than to queue for questionable lunches at some chain (not to mention the $ savings!)
- I stopped buying pick-me-ups like chocolate bars or bottled juice. For some reason after stopping I also stopped craving it anymore. in fact we've barely made a dint in the Easter Eggs we received (which totalled less than 500g of chocolate for a family of four).
- The Keeper - I can't recommend it enough. A mere two months on, tampons seem kind of disgusting in comparison.
These are all examples where sustainability measures have unexpectedly delivered us better quality of life: not needing all this consumable / disposable stuff means not running out, remembering to buy it or having to shop for it. In fact we can now pretty much do all shopping at a greengrocer, and for 2 months have not needed to do the big supermarket shop - giving us back a significant chunk of time, calm and sanity - which in turn means we can shop locally and not have to head to the mall.
In fact I see a theme emerging where a virtuous cycle comes from compacting - with reduction begetting reduction.
- We don't wash the car
- We don't clean much at home
- We turn off the lights and use compact fluorescents. The ones marked "warm light" give light that is no different to normal incandescents.
Those really were cheating. They're SUCH no-brainers that they predate my attempt at compacting, it's just that now I have a good reason not to do these boring chores (Q. How many days does it take to change a lightbulb? A. There's a bathroom light that's been out at my place for over 3 years!)
Here are some that result from compacting
- We don't buy cleaning products, or much prepackaged food
- We don't buy disposable nappies, paper towels or tampons anymore. I was dreading vast stinking piles of urine-soaked laundry but actually, (and with the caveat that my kids are in nappies at night only) microfibre absorbent cloths and waterproof pants don't add up to much at all. THey go through with normal washing or get rinsed out in the shower. To date there have been no leaks or other major issues.
- As I'm packing kindy lunches now anyway, I'm often making some for us grownups too. I don't have to brave city foodcourts anymore. I prefer to potter in my office kitchen than to queue for questionable lunches at some chain (not to mention the $ savings!)
- I stopped buying pick-me-ups like chocolate bars or bottled juice. For some reason after stopping I also stopped craving it anymore. in fact we've barely made a dint in the Easter Eggs we received (which totalled less than 500g of chocolate for a family of four).
- The Keeper - I can't recommend it enough. A mere two months on, tampons seem kind of disgusting in comparison.
These are all examples where sustainability measures have unexpectedly delivered us better quality of life: not needing all this consumable / disposable stuff means not running out, remembering to buy it or having to shop for it. In fact we can now pretty much do all shopping at a greengrocer, and for 2 months have not needed to do the big supermarket shop - giving us back a significant chunk of time, calm and sanity - which in turn means we can shop locally and not have to head to the mall.
In fact I see a theme emerging where a virtuous cycle comes from compacting - with reduction begetting reduction.
counter evolution
The yoghurt has got me thinking about how much cultural (excuse pun) and intellectual capital we're losing.
I had to learn from my mum how make and mend clothes, but would need to go back to my grandmother for pickling or preserving fruit. It was my great grandmother who would have known how to keep chooks or grow veggies, and I'd probably have to go back to a great-great grandma to know how to help birth a baby.
And I can do a myriad things that they could never have even imagined (blogging being an obvious one). But I can't relate epics around a campfire (I can't even tell a good joke - as you'd have witnessed from my first post). And for all my internet research fetish, I can't tell you what local plants are edible. And if the power went down for any length of time, I wouldn't even know where to go to find out. And I'd have no idea how to find my way home if needed to navigate by the stars.
Yet most of these things would have been common knowledge for my ancestors and others, refined through many generations of evolution. Presumably, if I went far back enough, my ancestors knew how to hunt, survive ice ages.
My tentative steps to reclaim this have been paltry by comparison. I've learned to sharpen kitchen knives. Grown sweet basil from seed. And then there's that continuing yoghurt experiment...
I had to learn from my mum how make and mend clothes, but would need to go back to my grandmother for pickling or preserving fruit. It was my great grandmother who would have known how to keep chooks or grow veggies, and I'd probably have to go back to a great-great grandma to know how to help birth a baby.
And I can do a myriad things that they could never have even imagined (blogging being an obvious one). But I can't relate epics around a campfire (I can't even tell a good joke - as you'd have witnessed from my first post). And for all my internet research fetish, I can't tell you what local plants are edible. And if the power went down for any length of time, I wouldn't even know where to go to find out. And I'd have no idea how to find my way home if needed to navigate by the stars.
Yet most of these things would have been common knowledge for my ancestors and others, refined through many generations of evolution. Presumably, if I went far back enough, my ancestors knew how to hunt, survive ice ages.
My tentative steps to reclaim this have been paltry by comparison. I've learned to sharpen kitchen knives. Grown sweet basil from seed. And then there's that continuing yoghurt experiment...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)