notes from global environment class

I am now happily in the thick of school life again. Rising early, bundling up to walk to class (I knitted my first hat for just this reason), lectures, reading, writing, papers, professors...

This semester, one of the classes I'm taking is called "Global Environment." I was expecting it to be about climate zones, and natural disasters, and the water system, and all that jazz - but no, it's better than that. It's about ecology, sustainability, agriculture/food resources, etc. Right up my alley.

(And even better, I'm taking this class with a friend who occasionally whispers snarky comments and is good at playing the devil's advocate when we discuss weighty environmental matters after class. It lighten things up.)

This week we have an exercise due wherein we have to calculate our ecological footprint using this program. Mine resulted in this projection: if everybody lived the way I do (as best as I could articulate it in the calculator) we would need 3.9 Earths to sustain us. Granted, the program does make assumptions because I am an American. But try it for yourself. Seeing your ecological impact broken down - even if it is just theoretical - can't help but make you think.

In class last week we discussed sustainability and specifically voluntary simplicity - giving unnecessaries up for the sake of the "global commons." It made me consider how much I would be willing to give up.

Or maybe it isn't a voluntary matter. I recently came across this article from the New York Times about a brave lady who, by necessity, went "back to the land" in the heart of the city, and gave up many things only to gain many more.

(Pictured above: one of four massive hanging sculptures on campus. They are paper cranes made of many smaller paper cranes.)

There aren't many books I would say everyone should read. Often that's too much of a generalization. I adore To Kill a Mockingbird, it's a classic, etcetera - but I don't think there's much to be gained by forcing it upon everyone. I'd say the same for the poems of Emily Dickinson and Mary Oliver, the works of Virginia Woolf, and Howards End.

But everyone should read Eaarth, by Bill McKibben.

This book was passed on to me by my mom and I'm yet part way through it. For one, it's cleverly written. For two, it makes it absolutely, undeniably clear just how much we've altered the only planet we have. Global warming or global "weirding," as I once heard it called, can seem an abstract concept (especially when you step out your door at noon and it's 19 degrees Fahrenheit...as I did today). McKibben takes away all the vagueness, and it's a little scary, but we only have ourselves to blame.

And so I think that means we can work to fix it.

I lately came across a blog called the No Trash Project and am enjoying going through the archives. It chronicles the efforts of one lady who is trying to live a life that produces no waste. And while that may seem a simple statement, when you begin to think about it (think about what and how much you put in your trash can each day), it's an immense task. But she's up to it; she's doing it. Her weekly waste crate photographs I really like. She has one small (wooden) crate of throwaway things that is never pictured full.

In his book, McKibben makes the point of saying that we have altered the Earth to such a degree that it is a different planet than it once was (hence the title). Consequently, we have to live differently now. It was fortuitous that I found the No Trash Project when I did. It depicts a different way of living, going against the current.

So if you keep a reading list, you now have two things to add to it. I don't say this lightly: Read them soon!

on beauty and benefit

If I have a new year's resolution it is vague. Something like: I want live in a way that is more in line with what I believe. Regardless of how cliche that is, it's the notion I've had roaming around in my head for weeks. 

One part of it is what I consume. Meaning, not just want goes into my mouth but also what goes into my closest and drawers. Lately I've become more concerned about this things I buy, specifically my clothes and personal affects. Through a friend of mine, I found out about this book, and although I knew that certain things about the Western world's clothes economy were harmful to the rest of globe Safia Minney's exposé opened my eyes further.

The bangles above were a Christmas gift from my mother. They were made in Nepal by women who are rebuilding their lives. They're only jewelry - pretty, shiny bracelets that I love to wear because they jingle on my wrist - but they helped women worlds away. Why can't every part of my attire do that? Or how about clothing made of organically grow cotton, processed and packaged in a way that doesn't leave a scar, or a growing infection, on the planet? These aren't question I normally ask myself when shopping. Cost, color, and cut come first; egocentric concerns come first. They are my clothes, but as I was told when I was a child: "You are not the center of the universe." 

With all of this in mind, I put together an imaginary outfit composed of items that are environmentally and socially friendly. And beautiful too. The dress and leggings above are from Patagonia and Horny Toad, both of whom present themselves as being aware of their practices. The bangles and scarf are fair trade and made in India. The striped flats come from soleRebels in Ethiopia, the only WFTO Fair Trade Certified shoe company.

This planet and the people on it matter to be immensely. I think the way I act and the way I dress should be a reflection of that. And so this is the beginning of a series of posts on wearables that are as good as they look. 

dress from patagonia/leggings from peopletree/scarf from block shop/bracelets from lydali//flats from solerebels