#change

 Dear Life, 

So, remember that virus thing that you made the world do for like A YEAR (more, actually)? Remember how it really put the hurt on some people emotionally and financially and all of the other -ally things that pertain? I came across a documentary recently, The Year Earth Changed. It showed how impactful humanity really is on nature. And how nature responds when given the space. (P.S. I have no connection whatsoever to the film or the organization - there's no compensation for my thoughts on this piece, so this really is my perspective on what I learned from watching it.)

It's a truly beautiful film and inspiring. 

While it wasn't a slap in the face to many human behaviors relative to waste and environmental impact, it was clearly present and obvious. The only reason why these beautiful things happened was that nature was able to breathe for a year. I can't stop thinking about how we pursue and achieve finding better human/nature balance in a manner that would allow these animals and life to continue to flourish even after we put the pandemic behind us. 

Here we are, opening the world again. Here we are, doing all the things that we were doing before, trying to get back to our normals. And chances are nature, to deal with it, will go back to what she had to do to survive. I just...in personifying the film, don't know how to give nature more of a chance when she's not always the first thing we as a society consider to care about. Until, you know, it's dire and it's in our faces, and sometimes beyond salvage (like when species go extinct). But consider a part of this film: In India, during the pandemic, the Himalayan mountains were suddenly clearly visible in certain cities. When people stopped driving and stayed home, the atmosphere was less polluted, and as a result, the air quality improved drastically. Citizens of those communities were astounded, standing on their roofs and looking toward the mountain range in awe, as they had never realized they were there. 

So, I know already. You're sitting there thinking that the key phrase was 'stopped driving.' Then you're yelling, "YOU CAN'T TELL ME NOT TO DRIVE. I DON'T CARE HOW AMAZING NATURE MAY BE." Yeah, I get that. And my intentions are not to shut down the automobile industry. I don't think it's an all-or-nothing. I think there are simple things we can do in full awareness that are more gentle to the environment and all she offers. 

There are many other examples in the film. And they're presented in a way that the beauty and the positive effects hit you. But at the threshold of 'getting back to normal' what about nature? Seriously. Can we live as a species and make space for nature? We can, but it's not easy for everyone. And I feel like sometimes it's because we're in a similar space: 'I didn't even know it was there.' But it is. 

If we're talking about major changes, perhaps that in and of itself is difficult to perceive. I think when I draw it back only to myself, there are decisions that I can make that I believe will positively impact nature in observance of her amazing-ness. 

- I can be mindful about where I spend my money. Duh, right? But this is real. What am I doing/spending money on that could be impacting nature? Probably lots of things. Do I care enough to learn about them? Do I care enough to be cognizant of where my food/products/etc come from and what happens to the waste created therefrom? 

- I can be mindful of nature in my community. We have deer and geese and ducks, and I see lots of people out there feeding them with bread...which is actually really not great for the animals. I believe in earnest that not everyone knows that but that their intentions are good. I can show that example in the way I feed them. Or I can do things that I know would help the wildlife - like leaving water in the tree break behind my house when the weather is crazy hot. 

- I can be mindful. I can think about the things I do and the solutions I hope to bring to the world. Even if I'm not perfect, I can do better each day. Trying matters. 

What hurts is the thought that one (humanity) or the other (nature) has to suffer. There's a way to meet in the middle, but it demands change and care. What we do impacts everything around us. I just...want to be a force for good and positively impactful. I'd like my children and grandchildren to live in a place where nature thrives. So, I need to do things now that will increase that likelihood for them in the future. That's what I can do. 

J. 

#the trashman

 Dear Life, 

There are lessons that seem prominent at various stages of life. Like when I was young and there was a limitless feeling associated with things I wanted to do in the future, or who I wanted to be as defined through my career or profession. I knew I wanted to help people, I knew I wanted to do things that very few had done, and I knew that I wanted to do something that I loved. When I was young, I set my sights on becoming an anesthesiologist, an astronaut, and a theatrical literature professor. All at the same time. As a doctor, I could alleviate pain. As an astronaut, I could discover and reach deeply into the unknown. As a professor connected to theater and all her power, I would be able to actively maintain my love of the stage. It didn't matter that it would take me 90 years to finish school for all of these things. They all seemed wonderful and exciting and totally worth my passion to pursue. 

I admit that I became a little distracted as I got older. Places and things turned my head as an option of pursuit. Then, toward the end of high school, I had no idea what path made sense or what I should do. The buffet of options made me feel like any mixture of all the things would make me sick, or that if I only heaped up on the king crab legs, I would surely miss out on all of the other delights. It was overwhelming. As was the notion of how to finance my beautiful dreams. 

I remember working with 5-year-olds at a summer day camp when I was between semesters in college. The pay wasn't awesome, but the kids were. Each day we hold scheduled activities, do crafts, lunch, walk to the bathrooms together in one big group, play with water guns, and do snack. At that time in my life, I took to interviewing random people. It was a thing I did. There was so much life, so many experiences, and capturing a bit of it seemed enlightening, and sacred in a way. Not only was I on the receiving end of parts of their lives, but to capture their voices, too, was special. One day, that curiosity spilled over to my 5-year-olds. 

Vincent was a 5-year-old spit-fire who was totally allergic to gluten. He struck me as the kind of kid who generally wouldn't know or care about gluten, but whenever the red vines came out during snack time, he would politely ask for a fruit roll-up instead. "I can't eat wheat," he would say as he shrugged his shoulders and winced his face a little. When he first told me that, I didn't realize there WAS wheat in red vines (weird). "Oh, wow," I told him as I checked the ingredients on the tub cradled in my arm. "Thank you for telling me," I told him. That's a disciplined 5-year-old. 

I can say that I had the perfect group of kids for me. They were happy and giggly. They liked colors and they were nice to each other. They were pretty good at sharing and tears usually only happened when someone fell on their face during a joyful sprint. When I brought my handheld voice recorder, it was more for novelty and fun. Interviewing a 5-year-old I knew I needed to keep the questions light, "what's your favorite color?" Things like that. When I asked Vincent what he wanted to be when he grew up, he shouted out, without any holding back or hesitation, "a trashman!!" "Wow," I said, kinda giggling and taken aback. Why not? 

When he said it, it was with joy. He was super excited at the thought of riding around on the back of a huge truck all day long, and that is all that matters. I think about how turd-like I would have been had I said "Seriously? Why would you want to do that???" and shriveled my face up all snarky-like thinking about the smell of the truck, or the unmentionable content it carries. I didn't say much of anything, I just let him be him. What I should have said was, 'Thank you." Because trash peeps are insanely vital. And I have met no other in my life who has made a similar declaration. 

So, Life, you know you've taken me on a number of Mr. Toad's Wild-Ride-esque journeys. I've decided a few of those crazy paths on my own. They're mine to take, and mine to learn from. Dreams are powerful. Let them be. Let imagination be the motivating factor. I feel like that courage to try is often scrutinized and then lost, which is a shame. I want to have that child-like wonder, Life. I want to be happy, so my choice is to be so, to love what I do, even if it's different than what I had originally thought. To stay true to myself in order to discern what's really right for me, to keep my heart and mind open to lessons through opportunities that come my way. 

I hope whatever that 5 year old chose to become in his adulthood that he's killing it. I hope that he's still giggly and happy eating his gluten-free-ness. I'll eat the red vines on his behalf. :) 

J.