goddessing
cosmology, consciousness, contrarinessgoddess religion: pagan blog
www.goddessmystic.com
goddess religion: pagan blog
www.goddessmystic.com
Food Shortages
Thinking about holiday gift-giving? I must admit I don't think about that much. As a kid I hated the commercialization of Christmas, even while loving Christmas presents. Mainly I hated how Christmas crowded out Thanksgiving. Then there was the wee problem of having a birthday 9 days before Christmas and the inevitable one present for both occasions, and the juvenile sense of injustice about that. Bah, Humbug! Not fair!
I've long since outgrown those feelings and concerns, but the lasting effect remains: I don't get jazzed over birthday giving or Christmas giving. I fight to keep those from being chores; I never know how to respond when asked what I want; in a world of choices, it seems hard to go for fun and whimsy with my dollar in view of the long list of needed things.
One of my two favorite childhood Christmas experiences happened the year we didn't give family gifts at all. Instead, we spent our money buying Christmas gifts for a single-parent family living on the very edge of poverty. I have no idea where my mother got her information, but we bought presents for a mother who was going to get nothing, her son who was only going to get a belt, and her daughter who was going to get a pair of shoes wrapped as a gift from Santa. I've rarely had so much fun shopping. It was easy to imagine a stranger's thrill at finding unexpected fun and whimsy wrapped in boxes on Christmas morning.
Last year, my sister and I bought each other items from our necessaries list. Not glamorous, not fun, but needed. And in each case, we bought the other something she needed but hadn't made herself willing to spend for.
This year, I've decided where my few holiday spending dollars are going. Food banks all over this country are experiencing extreme shortages. Demand is up. Supply is down. Emergency reserves are being tapped. Some food banks are folding because they no longer have anything to give. According to a New York Times article:
A sharp drop in federal supplies of excess farm products ... this from the bread basket of the world? Lovelock predicts great food shortages over the coming decades. Perhaps the U.S. foodbank crisis is a sign of things to come. I'm counting my blessings. For now, my small family is able to meet our food needs. Feeding friends, in fact, is my favorite form of gift-giving. This year, I'm adding strangers to that list. Second Harvest helps feed the 103,000 people (including nearly 39,000 children) in southwestern Wisconsin who aren't able to meet their own hunger needs. Second Harvest takes food and financial donations, and partners with 370 food pantries, meal sites/soup kitchens, shelters, senior centers, daycare programs and Kids Cafes in 16 counties in this part of the country.
My sister and brother-out-law are coming here for the holidays, a rare event. We'll feed them well. My writers' group meets here tonight. I'll feed them well. This year, I'll also be feeding the hungry, not by making food, or serving at soup kitchens, or even by buying canned and boxed goods to deliver to a food pantry. Those things are out of my range of possibility, given the mobility limitations that come with my disabilities. Making a donation online? That I can do, and will.
I recommend this very readable article on James Lovelock, who postulated the Gaia Theory (Earth is a living, self-regulating, superorganism), and on his ideas about climate change, civilization, and what choices we humans have in terms of life as we know it and life as it will be in the next 10 to 100 years.
Lovelock is writing his fourth book about Gaia, the first three being Gaia: A New Look at Life on Earth, The Ages of Gaia, and The Revenge of Gaia.
Many scientists disagree with the warnings and predictions Lovelock writes about in his third book, but many of them who today agree with his Gaia Theory disagreed with it when it was published.
In Lovelock's view, it's too late to reverse the damage we've inflicted on this lovely, formerly blue, planet. He's convinced that radical changes are just ahead of us and that while "the planet itself will eventually recover its equilibrium, even if it takes millions of years," the survival of human civilization is not so certain. He suspects that by the end of this century, the earth's human population, currently 6.6 billion, will be reduced to about 500 million. How we'll be living then is anybody's guess: perhaps in a Dark Age of feudalism or, if we're smart and start thinking now about what's apparent all around us, in some kind of enlightened relationship with each other, the planet, and our role as "the brains and nervous system of Gaia."
Last year, when I read about Lovelock's third book and contemplated his conviction (despite personal optimism) that it's too late to save the planet from the logical consequences of what we've done to it, I was oddly calmed. That question, "what more can I do to save this planet," the one that had driven me like so many of us for 25 years or more, finally had some definitive answers.
Fifty-something and disabled, there's truthfully very little more I can do. Oh of course I'll continue to reduce, reuse, recycle, and rethink. My partner will up telecommuting from one day a week to two as soon as possible. Our next vehicle will be a hybrid. We'll finally do what's taken some time for the squeamish one of us to get behind: worm composting. We keep the thermostat low in the winter and high in the summer, and dress accordingly (our friends know to dress for the indoor temperatures when they visit). Already most of what we eat is produced and purchased locally, is organic, and, in the case of animal protein, is free range.
Above and beyond these and other responsible acts? I have my answer: Be conscious, each moment possible, of the beauty of life around and within me. Be conscious, be grateful, be awed. Marvel at the sound of sandhill cranes flying high above me as they migrate south. Feel the power and life-force of the broad-shouldered hawk that perches in the oaks between me and the lake. Speak the 10,000 names of the colors of water and sky in their daily variety. Love more, and be open to being loved more. Dream in winter of bloodroot in spring. Heal myself. Help others. Love the earth. Be here now.
I've long since outgrown those feelings and concerns, but the lasting effect remains: I don't get jazzed over birthday giving or Christmas giving. I fight to keep those from being chores; I never know how to respond when asked what I want; in a world of choices, it seems hard to go for fun and whimsy with my dollar in view of the long list of needed things.
One of my two favorite childhood Christmas experiences happened the year we didn't give family gifts at all. Instead, we spent our money buying Christmas gifts for a single-parent family living on the very edge of poverty. I have no idea where my mother got her information, but we bought presents for a mother who was going to get nothing, her son who was only going to get a belt, and her daughter who was going to get a pair of shoes wrapped as a gift from Santa. I've rarely had so much fun shopping. It was easy to imagine a stranger's thrill at finding unexpected fun and whimsy wrapped in boxes on Christmas morning.
Last year, my sister and I bought each other items from our necessaries list. Not glamorous, not fun, but needed. And in each case, we bought the other something she needed but hadn't made herself willing to spend for.
This year, I've decided where my few holiday spending dollars are going. Food banks all over this country are experiencing extreme shortages. Demand is up. Supply is down. Emergency reserves are being tapped. Some food banks are folding because they no longer have anything to give. According to a New York Times article:
Experts attributed the shortages to an unusual combination of factors, including rising demand, a sharp drop in federal supplies of excess farm products, and tighter inventory controls that are leaving supermarkets and other retailers with less food to donate.
A sharp drop in federal supplies of excess farm products ... this from the bread basket of the world? Lovelock predicts great food shortages over the coming decades. Perhaps the U.S. foodbank crisis is a sign of things to come. I'm counting my blessings. For now, my small family is able to meet our food needs. Feeding friends, in fact, is my favorite form of gift-giving. This year, I'm adding strangers to that list. Second Harvest helps feed the 103,000 people (including nearly 39,000 children) in southwestern Wisconsin who aren't able to meet their own hunger needs. Second Harvest takes food and financial donations, and partners with 370 food pantries, meal sites/soup kitchens, shelters, senior centers, daycare programs and Kids Cafes in 16 counties in this part of the country.
My sister and brother-out-law are coming here for the holidays, a rare event. We'll feed them well. My writers' group meets here tonight. I'll feed them well. This year, I'll also be feeding the hungry, not by making food, or serving at soup kitchens, or even by buying canned and boxed goods to deliver to a food pantry. Those things are out of my range of possibility, given the mobility limitations that come with my disabilities. Making a donation online? That I can do, and will.
Labels: food shortages, holiday gifts
The Face of Gaia
Gaia is a tough bitch.(James Lovelock, quoting a colleague)
The Prophet of Climate Change: James Lovelock
I recommend this very readable article on James Lovelock, who postulated the Gaia Theory (Earth is a living, self-regulating, superorganism), and on his ideas about climate change, civilization, and what choices we humans have in terms of life as we know it and life as it will be in the next 10 to 100 years.
Lovelock is writing his fourth book about Gaia, the first three being Gaia: A New Look at Life on Earth, The Ages of Gaia, and The Revenge of Gaia.
Many scientists disagree with the warnings and predictions Lovelock writes about in his third book, but many of them who today agree with his Gaia Theory disagreed with it when it was published.
In Lovelock's view, it's too late to reverse the damage we've inflicted on this lovely, formerly blue, planet. He's convinced that radical changes are just ahead of us and that while "the planet itself will eventually recover its equilibrium, even if it takes millions of years," the survival of human civilization is not so certain. He suspects that by the end of this century, the earth's human population, currently 6.6 billion, will be reduced to about 500 million. How we'll be living then is anybody's guess: perhaps in a Dark Age of feudalism or, if we're smart and start thinking now about what's apparent all around us, in some kind of enlightened relationship with each other, the planet, and our role as "the brains and nervous system of Gaia."
Last year, when I read about Lovelock's third book and contemplated his conviction (despite personal optimism) that it's too late to save the planet from the logical consequences of what we've done to it, I was oddly calmed. That question, "what more can I do to save this planet," the one that had driven me like so many of us for 25 years or more, finally had some definitive answers.
Fifty-something and disabled, there's truthfully very little more I can do. Oh of course I'll continue to reduce, reuse, recycle, and rethink. My partner will up telecommuting from one day a week to two as soon as possible. Our next vehicle will be a hybrid. We'll finally do what's taken some time for the squeamish one of us to get behind: worm composting. We keep the thermostat low in the winter and high in the summer, and dress accordingly (our friends know to dress for the indoor temperatures when they visit). Already most of what we eat is produced and purchased locally, is organic, and, in the case of animal protein, is free range.
Above and beyond these and other responsible acts? I have my answer: Be conscious, each moment possible, of the beauty of life around and within me. Be conscious, be grateful, be awed. Marvel at the sound of sandhill cranes flying high above me as they migrate south. Feel the power and life-force of the broad-shouldered hawk that perches in the oaks between me and the lake. Speak the 10,000 names of the colors of water and sky in their daily variety. Love more, and be open to being loved more. Dream in winter of bloodroot in spring. Heal myself. Help others. Love the earth. Be here now.
Labels: beauty, climate change, earth, Gaia, goddess
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