It'll be two weeks ago on Friday that I last went to the library (not counting the drive by drop-off of the 7 day DVDs returned last Friday). I came home with a whole stack of books, which somehow always makes me feel better, even though I know the chances of me reading all of them are pretty slim. Several are gardening books that I'm skimming - gotta love compost, baby! (I am so ready for spring!!)
One of the books I checked out was a lucky find on the New Nonfiction shelf. Alas, I only get to keep it til Friday, it's a 14 day book at this point, since it's so new. The title? No Impact Man: The adventures of a guilty liberal who attempts to save the planet and the discoveries he makes about himself and our way of life in the process, by Colin Beavan. I'm really enjoying it, despite the obnoxious title. (And there's a blog by the same name and same author. Fun!)
I appreciate the reflection the author does along the way - not just about how much crap we can generate if we're not paying attention - but about how unhappy, or at least not happy, such a life makes us.
Consider this:
So much of my trash-making and waste is about making convenient the taking care of myself and my family. It's about getting our needs out of the way. But is this so? When did taking care of ourselves become something so unimportant that it should be got out of the way rather than savored and enjoyed? When did cooking and nourishing my family become an untenable chore? What is more
important that I'm supposed to do instead?
For every task I need to accomplish there seemed to be some throw-away item I could buy to help get it out of the way. My whole life appeared to have turned into a moneymaking machine intended to buy more convenience, with the seeming purpose of getting my life out of my way. I'm like a snake eating its own tail. It's as if I'm just trying to get the whole thing over with...
I'd write more, but I'm hoping to get this book finished before I have to give it back.
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