Traveling at home: Annie Clark and her cafe

Since it has been so long since I have written a traveling at home piece, here are some older thoughts on why I do it.

I feel like the notion of traveling at home falls squarely in line with attempts at reducing trash. When we appreciate what we have, and where we are, we may start looking for beauty, pleasure and wonderment here and now. We don't have to pine to travel to some far out corner of the world, although that would be nice sometimes. We don't have to pine for something from somewhere else, although that would be nice, too. This may seem like some sort of "localism," and maybe it is, but I think it is more. I have not read much about localism but what I hope it means is more than just a patronising of businesses and groups that are close to you. I hope it means that there is a satisfaction with place with a full understanding of what needs to be done environmentally, and consequently socially, to lessen our burden on this planet...I would like to find out what it is that people appreciate about the places they are in, and when and why they decide to call it home

Café Mooset recently reopened in Bloomsburg right next to Art Space, and right across from the Bloomsburg Theatre Ensemble.  I have been going there religiously when in Bloomsburg, for the quietness of the space, the art on the walls, and the company of Annie Clark, owner and chef.  My interview was cut short by customers, and so it didn’t come to its tonic, but here is a part of her life and her thoughts on home.

Cafe Mooset

Art always

Annie

 

Where do you live, and where do you call home?

I live about three miles east of Sunbury on Sawmill road, on the side of a mountain overlooking a beautiful east-west valley.  I live on the dark side of the mountain.  But, I grew up in the northern part of Pennsylvania, close to the New York border, in Silver Lake.  Silver Lake is nine miles north of Montrose, and I still call Silver Lake home.  We used to move twice a year from our home in Silver Lake, though, because it wasn’t weatherized for winter.  So, we moved twice a year.  In that way, home had to be wherever I was, just like for a military family.  Fortunately, we moved in the same area, and so I maintained relations with the same kids in the same school. 

How has home changed over time?

It has been developed.  It was once rural, and actually remote, given its proximity to a city and a town.  I just drove there the other day, and where there were once trees are now houses dotted all around.  There used to be a lot of farmland, too, but the houses used to be clustered in small areas.  The other kids in school used to live five or ten miles away, and so when I wanted to see them, we had to plan the visits.  Nothing was walking distance.  The cottages in my area were populated in the summer, and then no one would be around.  I loved it.

What did you at home?

Well, my brother was a boy.  I was closest to the sons from the next farm, and we would always go to the water together.  I used to do a lot of stuff on their farm, and as I got older, a horse got involved.  My father was not a farmer, but a French teacher.  After teaching, he spent the rest of his life in Binghamton, working on flight simulators.  

How has the environment at home changed over time?

During the late fifties and early sixties, there was a drought in the area.  You couldn’t make it farming, and so everyone got other jobs, or they would try to farm during the day, and then have a 3-11 pm night shift job.  The farmers of the smaller farms that were less productive started selling parcels of their land to give way for more houses.  I still remember the dwindling size of the grass and hay bales.  Then again, everything goes back to the way it was when you stop doing what you do.  

There was a rule about the number of cottages that could be along the lake, and there was never supposed to be two rows of them along the lake.  Because it was a mountain lake, all the runoff ended up in the lake, and it began to suffer from pollution.  They fixed it all though, but I am not sure how. 

Three years, and traveling (at home, too)

While preparing yesterday's post, I remembered how much I loved traveling at home, and so, I decided to talk to Annie, part-owner and manager of Cafe Mooset in downtown Bloomsburg, PA, where my parents live. When she asked me how long I have been writing on this blog, I looked to the bottom right of my computer screen (for some reason left open), and I realised that that day, the 29th of March, 2013, was the three year anniversary of when I started living trash-free, although, as I will write about below, the past few months have been anything but that. (I have recently been saying that I used to live trash-free, because saying otherwise would be like saying I am a vegetarian when I eat non-vegetarian food, even occasionally.) Regardless, the 29th of March still holds weight for me.

When reading my blog posts from the one year and two year anniversaries, I see pictures of the trash and recyclables I was (partly) responsible of introducing into the world. The pictures also make me think about all the choices I made that aren't captured in those pieces of paper, plastic, or metal. I have no record of that for most of this year, mainly because I no longer live in Ann Arbor, and living trash-free is essentially impossible when you are on the road. Since I finished my dissertation in late August, I have been traveling--first, a road trip across the country, primarily out to the western states; then out to the east coast; then back to India. 

I cannot say that I have gained any new insights into individual activism and social change over the past year, apart from this: I cannot stress how important it is to be diligent about and attentive towards anything and everything we do. When it comes to trash, for example, I have found at times myself being lax when on the road, knowing that even if I could have saved a small fork or paper bag from being used and immediately discarded, I found myself biting my tongue or not speaking up.

It is quite timely for me to be traveling at home given the amount of traveling I have been doing recently. I consider it a privilege to be able to travel. (I do not take travel lightly.) I have found this country, in particular, to be stunningly gorgeous. Then again, the garden is everywhere, as Barron Wormser writes. I have continued to wonder, though, what it takes to appreciate home, and to have that sense of directed attention towards it as you do when traveling some place new. This is an ongoing project and lesson, and ties into what I am thinking for the year ahead.

Year four will hopefully be influenced by another project that is in the works right now--one which I wrote about a year ago--that I am tentatively calling Dissolved, which is focused on what divides people and opinion, and how we can focus on the things that unite us rather than the things that divide us. Mohammad, my labmate, and I are working on this survey-based project, and I really, really want to get the ball rolling on this.

I would love to have more contributors to this blog, and I thank people for continuing to read it.

Traveling at home: The Huron River

It has been a while since I have traveled at home, in most part because I have actually been on the road several times in the past few months. But the road has made me miss home. I have not directed my attention to the place that I live in for months now, and something thus feels amiss.

Home is not just the physical shelter we live in. Rather, it is comprised of places and spaces, many of which we go to to focus on the biophysical world we live in, rather than on the incessant thoughts that consume much of our energy. These are places of comfort, of meditation. The Huron River, which flows just a hundred yards from where I live, is that space for me. Here are some sights and sounds that I captured on my last visit to the river.

Water hitting the ice on the river's edge

Flocks of geese

This river has also inspired Collin to make this spectacular animation.

Following the Huron from Collin McRae on Vimeo.

Traveling at home: Dave Trombley occupying Ann Arbor

When Ann Arbor empties, be it for fall break, Thanksgiving, or summer, the town gains a charm, an energy, a peace that pervades the air you breathe here. There are few cars on the road; you want to walk more slowly, and become more observant of those daily routes you take. This isn't forced, but rather what seems natural. Why walk fast when there is nothing fast surrounding you?

During fall break, I met someone who was occupying Ann Arbor. All you have to do is ask a question, and new worlds open up in your backyard.

Dave Trombley of Ann Arbor

Tell me about yourself. What's your name? Where are you from? What do you do in life?
My name is Dave Trombley. I was born in Clinton Township, in the Detroit Area, and have lived in southeast Michigan for most of my life. I am a machinist by profession. I work in Wixom now. I started off in the automotive industry, but am now in pneumatics. My advocation, however, is poetry. I have been writing for five or six years now and also teach with the Ann Arbor Free Skool. I write about my experiences, my worldview. You can do what you want with poetry. It helps me stay centred in the here and now. It is about creative ways of approaching life. It is a positive cycle, an inspiration cycle, an exercise in mindfulness. If you are mindful, you open yourself to inspiration. Once inspiration comes, you can get poetry out of it. Poetry leads to more inspiration, making you stay more mindful.

Where do you call home? What do you love about where you live? What sets it apart?
I have lived in Ann Arbor for a year now, and it is definitely home for me. People are really amazing here. They are friendly, aware, open, and have different ideas, different ways of living, and are into finding out about the world they live in. People are so resilient. But you have to get outside of Ann Arbor to get a feel for it. Before Ann Arbor, I lived in Blissfield. There wasn't much going on there. There was a set way of living, and was not as diverse. 

How has southeast Michigan changed over time? How has the environment here changed over time?
Well, the auto industry became consolidated, and it shrunk. All of this computer progress has degraded with working class. People used to be able to aspire to the middle class without a college degree. The environment has improved over time, I feel. The Rouge River has been cleaned up, and the lakes are probably in a little better shape. There are cleanups for big rivers with volunteers. I feel like the environmental laws put in place in the 1970s have helped. In this area of Ann Arbor, the environment is very beautiful...the Huron River...the green space.

You talked about positive cycles of life. What are negative cycles?
The negative cycles are those that we see pervading society today. Greed leads to violence, makes people take chances. You also open yourself up to addiction with these cycles.

Intentionality and appreciation

After having traveled at home several times over the past few months, it has been reinforced to me that I am very lucky to be where I am, to have what I have. There is a uniqueness about each place and time, in my life and in yours. Observing this uniqueness is just a matter of living intentionally.

Rebecca mentioned in a comment a few weeks ago that while traveling at home is absolutely possible, it takes more "directed attention;" we might need to remind ourselves that we are actually traveling, even though we are at home. What I might suggest then for all of us is a directed attention of sorts. In a world of noise, one-hundred and forty character messages, and constant stimulation, this directed attention will likely require intention...hence living intentionally. What these words and phrases - directed attention and intentionality - may mean is simply appreciation.

I think our culture and society have ingrained in our minds and psyche a decided unappreciation. We are constantly distracted from what surrounds us by what we wish surrounded us. There is a constant urge to be somewhere else, both in time and in space. The very notion of progress hinges itself on a sort of dissatisfaction of here and now. As I mentioned previously, our I think a lack of appreciation is one of the fundamental drivers of our behaviour in the industrialised world. We are made to feel wholly inadequate about almost everything - women aren't "beautiful" enough, our smiles aren't "perfect" enough, our shoes and bicycling parts aren't the "latest." Very little of what we have already, and where we are already is appreciated. If we were to suffuse our every action with appreciation and intention, we would live against the grain of this ecologically degrading culture, and that is a good thing.

If we truly appreciate something, we wouldn't tolerate it being treated unjustly or violently. We would care for what we have and respect it. If we truly appreciate what the trees do for us, we wouldn't just stand by and watch as acres and acres of rainforest are cut down every day, whether for agriculture or for furniture. If we appreciate the air, the water, the land, take a stand, and live intentionally.

Traveling at home: Biking to Whitmore Lake

Marco and I took a short ride to Whitmore Lake yesterday, which is about eleven or twelve miles north of Ann Arbor. With both our bikes tuned up, we clipped in, and rode up Whitmore Lake road, which runs parallel to US-23. The ride is uphill, but the nice thing about going uphill is coming back downhill. On our way downhill, we hit thirty-two miles per hour at one point. Nice.

We stopped at Whitmore Lake...the actual lake...and sat in some shade for a few minutes. Now, while that was nice, what I was eying was the small ice cream shoppe right across the lake. I convinced Marco to forget about his diet for a second (which wasn't hard =)), and we walked into the shoppe, which had twenty-four flavours of soft serve, and, as we found out, was intent on having all local dairy products served. Marco had a scoop of vanilla and a scoop of coffee mocha ice cream, and I had a scoop of black cherry chocolate and a scoop of mint chocolate chip. There we met Samantha, who works there most every day.

Whitmore Lake

The ice cream shoppe, with our bikes parked outside.

Samantha

The only thing not local were the flavourings for the shakes. All of the ice cream was from Guernsey Farms Dairy, Northville, MI.

What's your story? Where do you live, and where do you call home?
"I live in Whitmore Lake, and call Whitmore Lake home. I lived in Ypsilanti from second to tenth grade, but then moved back here. I moved out of my home when I was fifteen, and now live with a woman who is terminally ill, and whose son has Asperger's Syndrome. I showed up at her doorstep with my son, Hayden, who is seven months old...he's all smiles...and my bags, and now she doesn't want me to leave. I am finishing high school online at Kensington Woods High School, in Howell, MI. I didn't want a GED, I wanted to finish high school. My favourite subject is English. I've realised though at Ypsilanti schools are much harder than Whitmore Lake schools. I want to become an X-ray technician or a dental assistant when I am done with high school. I currently work at this ice cream shoppe six days a week. Everything here, except some of the flavourings, is local. The owner really cares about this. The ice cream is from Guernsey Farms Dairy. Guernsey is awesome. The ice cream has 16-17% butter fat, which makes it so much better than other ice creams." I totally agree.

How has this place, and the environment, changed over time?
"This place hasn't changed much, but has become a little more city like. But it really is the same smal town. There is a sense of community here. Everyone knows everyone, and when something happens, the whole town comes together. We've actually had two deaths of high school students in the past three years, and that is an example of when everyone came together. Jessie, a high school freshman, got into a car accident, and Emily passed away from cardiac arrest from alcohol poisoning. The Fourth of July is always fun here. About ten thousand people come here to celebrate."

What do you love about where you live?
"You know everybody here. It is much smaller than Ypsilanti. The graduating class at Ypsilanti High is the size of the entire school here in Whitmore Lake. News spreads though. Like when my mom relapsed, everyone knew."

Traveling at home: It's in your backyard

I have not written about traveling for the past few weeks, and that is because I have been involved in helping a group of students understand the complexities of urban planning, justice, and sustainability. I am back in Ann Arbor now after having spent an incredible two weeks in Delray and Detroit, away from the privilege of this town. How the experiences of these past two weeks have changed me I am unsure of. What I do know is that I have changed. In-depth conversations with the residents of Delray and animated discussions with the students in the class have provided me much to ponder about, much to mull over.

Travel is about time and space, just like trash. I feel as if I have come back from a long voyage of two months, not a two week trip to a neighbourhood forty miles away. Caleb had a reason why. He told me, "Time is a measure of change." It seems that a much longer time has passed because much has happened in my life (and the lives of the students taking the class - I can attest to that...I've been reading their journals) and I have learned much in these two weeks...all of this in our backyard, our backyard of Southeast Michigan. 

When we think of traveling, we think of faraway places, we think of exoticism, and we think of new people. Fundamentally it seems then that most traveling comes down to new experiences. Traveling takes you away from the routines many of us have become used to; traveling provides us a fresh look at the world and our neighbourhoods. What we learn on our travels impacts the choices we make and the way we live. What these past two weeks have further reinforced to me is that traveling can happen right here, right now. A new destination is in your backyard, on your street, and possibly in your own room. It is just a matter of perception.

This may be quite obvious to say, but the difference we can make in the world depends on how we choose to be affected by and respond to what surrounds us. It is possible to walk down the streets of Ann Arbor, or wherever you live, go on the same walk you've been on many times before, and have it change your world view, or at least modify it slightly. As I have mentioned before, reality is what we make of what surrounds us.  Now while I am not saying that people should not go to faraway places, what I am saying is that despite all the pressures of being "upwardly mobile" and gaining "social capital," traveling, and learning and action more broadly, consists solely of opening up ourselves to the possibilities that constantly surround us. Such a mindfulness will hopefully make us consider the ecological impacts of our choices.

Traveling at home: Can we love nature simply?

There's this store in Ann Arbor called Bivouac. At this store, one may find a whole array of things, including shoes, sweaters, coats, and gloves. These are absolutely essential objects, of course. Especially in Michigan, you'd freeze if you didn't have anything to keep you warm. There's more you can find at this store, too. You can find objects, such as carabiners, ice picks and mountaineering equipment of all kinds. You can find anything and everything you'd need if you wanted to go camping or get into the wilderness. These things are well and good, and it is nice to be able to explore and see what is out in the world. Yet on a number of occasions, I have come across self-professed "nature lovers" who just cannot wait to buy the next new thing from Black Diamond or Petzl, and cannot wait to go on the next trip to use this new equipment, which will allow them to scale some mountain that wasn't possible without it. As I've written about previously, much of this sort of travel degrades what it is that makes us want to go to these places; Mt. Everest is basically the world's highest dump (you can read about this here and here).

Many times, when you look at adventure sports, you see people climbing to the top of a mountain or swimming to the depths of the ocean or what have you. I do not see a difference between those who choose to travel half way across the world to be an "eco-tourist" from the business executive that has to fly half way across the world for a meeting. People need to be more honest with themselves about the impacts of their choices, whether you "love nature" or not. Furthermore, there is a sort of masculinity and dominance that I see when I see people "conquering" mountains or faces of rock. Of course there is an appreciation of the challenge, and it is always amazing to see what humans are capable of doing, but still...maybe I am missing something.

Now, it is nice that people love nature (although the sincerity of these emotions may be questionable at times), but something I have always wondered is, Can we love nature simply? Indeed, the world is beautiful, and what exists here in Ann Arbor, the nature here, is not the nature that exists elsewhere. Similarly, what exists in the Hebrides or Fraser Island does not exist anywhere else in the world. Each place is unique, each place is different. It is that uniqueness and exoticism that I am sure is part of the reason why people travel to these places. Yet it is important to recognise the uniqueness of where we are, in time and space. The Huron River is beautiful, no matter what time of year, no matter whether the sky is cloudy or it is blue. The water lilies in the summer or the barren trees coated with snow, all beautiful, all only here. I can choose to spend an afternoon sitting by the river and seeing the herons, or I could day dream about being elsewhere.

This desire to travel to experience nature, or conquer it through adventure, is in contrast to what Wendell Berry has written in his essay The Long-Legged House. It is some of the most beautiful prose I have ever read. He says,


"There is a great waste and destructiveness in our people's desire to "get somewhere." I myself have traveled several thousand miles to arrive at Lane's Landing, five miles from where I was born, and the knowledge I gained by my travels was mainly that I was born into the same world as everybody else.


Days come to me here when I rest in spirit, and am involuntarily glad. I sense adequacy of the world, and believe that everything I need is here. I do not strain after ambition or heaven. I feel no dependence on tomorrow. I do not long to travel to Italy or Japan, but only across the river or up the hill into the woods."

How wonderful.

Traveling at home: Ypsilanti with Tim

I have been to Ypsilanti, the home of Eastern Michigan University, several times before. It is has a different pace and atmosphere compared to Ann Arbor, although it is just a few miles away. There is much culturally going on there, and its Riverside Park is home to the Michigan Summer Beer Festival. I went there today, this time in travel mode, with Tim. We had a quite beautiful time there.

As you enter Ypsilanti via Washtenaw Avenue, you are greeted by one of the more phallic water towers of the world. Nadia even told me it was known throughout Germany! We started off at the Ugly Mug, a cool coffee shoppe within walking distance of Eastern's campus, close to the historic Depot Town.

There, I met Linda, who was sitting at the bar. She got a BFA in photography, and loves doing creative things. She manages a gallery and art store in Ann Arbor, actually, the one right across the street from Conor O'Neills. Our conversation focused on Southeast Michigan, which is where she's spent her life so far...

Where do you live and where do you call home?

"I was born in Plymouth-Canton, and moved to Ypsilanti when I was eighteen to come to school. I actually lived right across the street from here, on Adams, when I was in Ypsilanti. My boyfriend is still active in local theatre here. Now I live in Whitmore Lake. I consider Whitmore Lake home. I moved there in 2006 because the schools are a better fit for my son. It is a quieter and safer place. My sister is out there, too." Whitmore Lake is a small community just a few miles north of Ann Arbor; it is a wonderful bike ride away.

What do you love about where you call home?

"I love how you can move between the city, the suburbs and the country in a short time. I also love the people here. There's a great mixture of people, some I get along with, and some I don't. There are people of all social and economic statuses, a lot of unexpected people. Like you. I never expected to be talking to a stranger today."

How has this area changed, culturally and environmentally, over time?

"The area has become a lot more liberal over time. There's a lot more art and music, not just in Ann Arbor or Detroit. There isn't a big gap anymore. Maybe it is the technology, maybe the people...There is definitely a lot less of the environment visible today. When I was growing up, between Plymouth-Canton and Ypsilanti, there were only dirt roads and farms. Now there are subdivisions and car dealerships and box stores everywhere. I am not a huge fan of sprawl. There are definitely fewer farms and woods. I feel like in that sense, this place has lost its character. Canton just sort of blends in now, and has lost its uniqueness. Ypsilanti, though, seems to have held together pretty tightly. There's not a lot of corporate stuff in this town."

What is unique about this place? What should I definitely check out? What should I observe there?

"The river. And the park area...Riverside and Frog Island. Not a lot of places have a river running through the middle of them. There is a bridge under a bridge. Anywhere on that bridge, just stand there. There's also an outdoor amphitheatre in Frog Island that should be used more...Definitely go to La Fiesta Familia, the Mexican restaurant just up the road. I've been going there for years and have gotten to know the family very well. I always order the same thing every time..."

Tim and I walked over to the bridge under the bridge. I had never noticed it! Nor have I seen anything else like it. It is beautiful; the river is flanked by Depot Town and a beautiful old women's dorm on either side. The river was gushing with rains on the watershed. We saw the amphitheatre, too.

Tim and I also walked into Depot Town. It definitely seems like history stares you more in the face in Ypsilanti than in Ann Arbor. Both Tim and I felt that we were kind of walking back through time in Ypsilanti. They've done a wonderful job at creating little spaces, and there are signs and plaques everywhere talking about the history of the town. There are little nooks hidden in the peace of the town. I know that most students that pass through Ann Arbor never make it out to Ypsilanti, which is just ten minutes away. Tim and I had a wonderful afternoon there.

Traveling at home: Where I live

I figured that my first excursion on this Traveling at home journey (here, here) should be an exploration of where I live, High St. in Ann Arbor.

Where I live

I am fortunate enough to live right by the Huron River, overlooking the Gandy dancer (which used to be the old Ann Arbor train station), within walking distance of the Farmers' Market and the historic Kerrytown Market. But I wanted to bring it closer, and wanted explore the immediate block around me. First, I wanted to explore one of the most beautiful structures in Ann Arbor - the St. Thomas The Apostle Church. This church was initially built in the mid 1800s, and there is a Catholic school that goes along with the church. It was evening, and the Church was locked, when a man called out,  "Sir! Would you like to go in?" Perfect. I met Mark, a man born in Ann Arbor in 1948, a man full of thoughts and stories. I didn't even have to ask him much. He just started talking. We talked just outside the main entrance of the church.

St. Thomas The Apostle

School next to the church

Part of St. Thomas school

Part of St. Thomas school

Where do you live?
"I live in Plymouth, MI, but I grew up just two blocks away, at 206 N. Thayer. It's an old home, Greek revivalist. There's an addition on the back. It was built in 1885, I think. There's a Victorian house right next to that, that was built in 1853. That modern apartment building next to it was built in the 1960s. They tore down Mr. Roby's Rug - they used to clean rugs and carpets there."

206 N. Thayer (I've actually been to a party here! Haha)

Where do you call home?
Before I even asked him this question he just said, "This is home. This church." Right then, we heard a train pull into the station. He said, "Did you hear that train? That is home. That station. When I was three years old, I remember going to bed to the sound of the steam engine. It made that chuck-a-chuck-a-chuck-a-chuck-a sound. That sound made me sleep. I didn't realise it, but over time, my sleep changed, and when I was a teenager, I figured out that the engines had changed to diesel engines. They had a sort of drone to them, totally different sound. My dad used to be a professor here, in the Mechanical Engineering Department, where the Math building is now. He helped people in the machine shop. A lot of the people that got their PhDs here thanked him in their dissertations."

What do you love about this place?
"Everything in the church is just close. You aren't far from the alter, or the crucifixes. When I was young, I just liked being able to get on campus. I realised I saw things that I didn't know that I liked at the time. This town is clean and safe. There's just so much diverse architecture here. And the trees. There are just so many kinds of people here. You just get to know people of different cultures, you know? You know this building? This used to be St. Joe's Hospital, I think. And that building that's now the lawyer's practice? I think that was St. Joe's property, too. Have you been to Plymouth? You have to come to the Ice Festival. The sculptures are just beautiful. They are so intricate. How do they have the time to do all of that? You know, the individual threads on the rope, and everything..."

Ferguson+Widmayer, an old St. Joe's property

How has Ann Arbor changed since when you were a boy?
"This place used to be very conservative, now it is very liberal. I guess the Vietnam War was that tipping point."

I am addicted. This was such a wonderful experience, meeting Mark, and getting to know where I live. I believe that an appreciation of place can help each one of us realise that where we live is constantly in flux, yet incredibly fragile. The Earth that supports us must be treated with kindness and care and respect and humility. I am traveling at home. I am here, and today is beautiful.

Today.

On the building of community

It is clear that as important as individual actions (1, 2, 3, 4) are, the scale of the issues facing us are vast and dark. Addressing these issues will require the mobilisation of the hearts and minds of more than just a few people. Indeed, the importance of community cannot be understated.

On the day before the one year anniversary of this project, I hope that this project has been worthwhile for you to read about, because it has been an extremely wonderful journey for me. It is my sincere hope that I have not been forceful in imposing my views on other people, and if I have, I apologise. My hope is that this is just the beginning of a conversation, the building of a community. I was talking to Melissa yesterday about the new section to the blog, Traveling at home. She was excited about it, particularly because one of the important aspects of it is the building of community. She felt though, on the other hand, that this current project could have the potential of alienating people. I wanted to speak to the building of community that can arise out of individual actions that stand in direct opposition to the status quo.

I fully understand that my thoughts on this subject are naive, but I have experienced nothing short of wonderful positive energy and thoughts over the past year. Many people don't believe or do what I do, and that is okay. I think there are two ways to go about living, particularly if you are trying to induce a change in behaviour - with whatever you do, you can alienate people, or you can encourage people. Any behaviour either reinforces norms, or speaks out against them. It is plain to see that there are vast organisations, companies, neighbourhoods and communities that are invested in behaving a certain way. Many of these behaviours are ecologically degrading. Given these vast investments, any behaviour that stands in opposition to them is sure to affect large numbers of people, or at the very minimum, speak out against them. At the same time, I am surrounded by friends and family, people that actually have faces and names to me, and people whose facial expressions and words affect me immediately and directly.

I believe that it is easy to alienate people even when if message comes with a clear conscience. As cliche as this may sound, the conversation is important, not the antagonism, and a convincing argument followed up with steadfast action is a steady rock. Any new course of behaviour must come from somewhere. And I can only hope that the combined power of words and actions will serve their purpose of growing some communities, speaking out against others, while at the same time maintaining civility and respect.

Traveling at home - Initial thoughts and feedback

Pardon the short nature of this post, for my mind needs a bit of rest. I just wanted to share some initial thoughts I had about the newest part of the blog - traveling at home.

I feel like the notion of traveling at home falls squarely in line with attempts at reducing trash. When we appreciate what it is we have, and where it is we are, we may start looking for beauty, pleasure and wonderment here and now. We don't have to pine for traveling to some far out corner of the world, although that would be nice sometimes. We don't have to pine for something from somewhere else, although that would be nice, too. This may seem like some sort of "localism," and maybe it is, but I think it is more. I have not read much about "localism," but what I hope it means is more than just a patronising of businesses and groups that are close to you. I hope it means that there is a satisfaction with place with a full understanding of what needs to be done environmentally, and consequently socially, to lessen our burdens on this planet; we are a burden it seems.

I would like to find out what it is that people appreciate about the places they are in, and when and why they decide to call it home. It would be interesting to see how observant people are about their surroundings and neighbours. To that end, I am hoping to have a list of three or four questions that I may ask any people I encounter during my "travels." I want your feedback on these questions, and please let me know if you have any questions you'd like to add or subtract from this list.

• Where do you call home?
• Where do you live?
• What do you appreciate about where you live?
• What is your favourite spot close to where you live (25 mile radius)?
• What are some observations about the place you live?

I might also have people volunteer to ask other people they might meet these very questions. It would be interesting to see how this grows.

Your thoughts?