I’m trying to pay down my personal climate debt. It’s time.

I don’t know what tipped the balance for me, but a few years ago, I realized I’d had enough.

I’ve had enough of saying there’s nothing meaningful I can do personally to address how humans are destroying the earth.

I’ve had enough of listening to people whine about how it’s too expensive to invest in clean energy.

I’ve had enough of worrying that the thing I’m doing isn’t the perfect solution to the problem, because it never is.

My realization led me through a series of steps:

1. Acknowledge the real problem

Our lifestyles are not sustainable. We are taking more from the earth than we’re giving back. Every time we burn fossil fuel, we borrow energy from the earth and send it into the atmosphere. We’re piling our garbage out of sight with no real plan for the fact that it will outlive us.

We’re incurring a debt, and now we have to pay it back or permanently destroy the environment that sustains us.

2. Make a personal commitment to invest

The first step in this process was to decide that our family would invest actual money in this process. This is money we won’t have for retirement. This is money we won’t have for fun vacations. This is definitely money we aren’t leaving to our kids.

I figure that we have lived on this earth taking and not giving back, and it’s time to stop that. Our money comes in part from the fact that we are taking from this environment and not giving back. At some point that balance has to be shifted.

3. Look at what I have control over

Another thing people whine about is that they can’t fix everything. Well, I have decided not to care. I can’t, in fact, fix certain aspects of our lives that are wasteful. But that doesn’t mean I am going to give up on the rest of it.

We have been looking at every aspect of our lifestyle and trying to pinpoint how we are taking more than we are giving back. Some of the things we’ve identified include:

  • Using disposable plastic, which will persist long after we’ve been returned to dust
  • Burning fossil fuels when there are alternatives
  • Making habitual lifestyle choices that are wasteful

4. Stop worrying about other people

One of the huge lessons I’ve learned in life is that the only person I have control over is myself.

  • I realize there are people who can’t afford the things we are doing.
  • I realize there are others around me who are living wastefully.
  • I realize that we really should have more political will to deal with this problem.
  • I realize that people think I’m weird when I refuse to buy something because of its packaging.

I can’t control them. I can only control myself. I vote for politicians I think will do the right thing, but I’m not going to wait for them. I’m done waiting.

5. Embrace failure

Because let’s face it, I fail every day. I use some sort of disposable plastic every. darn. day. I really try not to, but it doesn’t matter. I also burn some fossil fuels pretty much every day, no matter how I try.

Embracing failure doesn’t mean giving up—it actually means the opposite. I know and admire some people who really don’t dispose of plastic. They really have altered their lives so radically, and I truly admire them. But the fact that I can’t be as successful as they are doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.

6. Admit that this is an ethical issue, and do the right thing

This is not about politics. It’s not about virtue signaling. It’s not about saving money. It’s really not about almost all the things people discuss when they discuss climate change.

Changing how we interact with the earth is an ethical issue. If we use fuel unnecessarily, we are making the wrong ethical choice. If we choose to take a vacation rather than install solar panels, we are making the wrong ethical choice.

There is nothing subtle here: Anyone who knowingly makes choices that harm the environment when they could choose something better might as well by throwing rocks through their neighbors’ windows. It’s harmful, it’s wrong, and we have to stop.

Now.

This is what I tell myself:

Stop worrying about whether you can solve all the problems. You can’t.

Stop making excuses about how you’re used to this lifestyle. So what.

Stop saying that you can’t do something positive because others can’t. You are yourself, not anyone else.

Stop worrying that you’ll be judged by others for your decisions. So what else is new?

It’s time.

On leaving California…and staying just the same

Amidst the tragedy of a gorgeous, 78-degree October day, I did a search on my phone: “most livable cities in Canada.” It was the end of a long day of fires and vilification of the California way of life, and I’d had it.

I’m not the only one. I’ve known several people who have actually acted on the impulse:

Some gorgeous vista I took a photo of!

The California we loved is gone…

It’s too crowded…

I can’t afford to live here…

Global warming is going to kill our environment…

It seems like stresses come at us from all directions. The fires burning around the state amidst the unseasonable beach weather. A federal government that seems to be governing against us rather than welcoming the strength of our diversity. The homeless people we see alongside the highway and in our Facebook feeds.

Does anybody know of a room for rent? I’m a quiet, responsible middle-aged single mom with a ten-year-old son…

They say that people are leaving California, and I see it. I know a whole extended family that’s moving up to Oregon. I know a guy who just traded in his California home for a veritable mansion in the Southeast. I soothe myself with searches on my phone.

Jazz scene in Calgary?

Go ahead, if it’s time for you to leave…

Double rainbow over gas station

Here’s what it comes down to: I’m fine that some people are choosing to leave. There are a lot of people who are staying, and we love California. We’re willing to accept the difficulty of living here in exchange for the benefits. Late-night phone searches aside, there is nowhere I’d rather be right now.

Sure, we have problems…

High cost of living, crowded highways, droughts, earthquakes, troubled school systems. To read the national news, you’d think this place is a hellhole. It’s the place that people who don’t live here seem to love to hate.

But those of us who love it are willing to accept these trade-offs, work to make it a better place, and even have a few comebacks. (Remember: More people die each year shoveling snow than die in earthquakes per century!)

So go ahead and crow about how people are leaving California.

This dream is not for everyone…

Indian Rock, with San Francisco in the background

Let’s face it: California has done a great job of selling the California dream, and lots of people come here to try it out. But the California dream isn’t an easy one. You don’t come to a fragile environment, overcrowded and under-watered, and expect an easy time of it.

It happened during the last technology bust, too: many of the people who had moved to the Bay Area for jobs and beautiful weather left rather than weather an economic downturn.

Love it or leave it…

If you want to love a place like California, it’s like having a difficult but enchanting spouse or a beloved old car that keeps threatening to throw its last rod. You make the investment, you make the commitment, and then you throw yourself at the mercy of your love.

Walking on the beach on a gorgeous, 78-degree November day, my husband and I have The Conversation. If we left, where would we go? We belong here. We’ll do our best to keep this place alive and thriving, but in any case, we’re willing to deal with what comes our way.

She’s a beauty, this state. You can love it or leave it, but we’re here to stay.

Another local shop closes

Support Santa Cruz’s quirky businesses!

I suppose it’s inevitable that as real estate prices rise, a town becomes less funky and quirky. I saw it happen in Palo Alto in the 80s and 90s. When I arrived, the town boasted a diner with ancient (working) telephones on the tables and a dim sum place where the only thing on the extensive menu that you could actually buy were the potstickers.

Things have changed.

Rebecka in her element. Yes, she’s got lots of Santa hats on sale!

I happened in to Closet Capers (next to the Rio Theater) the other day, having heard that it was closing and they were selling off their merchandise.

I ended up chatting with the owner of the 37-year-old Santa Cruz landmark, Rebecka Hawkins.

“I’m only crying once a day at this point,” she said in describing her feelings about closing what she describes as her “obsession.”

Hawkins has outfitted many of us locals as we attended theme parties, needed an extra prop for a production, or had a last-minute freakout about Halloween. She says one school group has been coming to her for many years to supply costumes for an annual outing and production in Yosemite.

Hawkins says that the store survived so many years through the loving support of her husband and the understanding of her longtime landlord.

Some of the quirkiest residents of Santa Cruz reside on Rebecka’s shelves.

But it was her landlord who suggested, gently, that it was time to retire.

The tiny shop with its cavernous ceiling and winding aisles is crammed full of goodies. I went in to do some quirky holiday shopping, and was tantalized by jester hats, beaded dresses, and medieval capes.

Please support Rebecka’s retirement by purchasing one of her lovingly collected items. As I discussed last week on KSQD with the founders of Sellhound.com, a reused item is the greenest of gifts!

If you are an experienced eBay seller and would like to help her sell some of the pricier items, please contact her at 831-251-8700.

Happy Holidays, everyone. Let’s try our best to keep what’s quirky and wonderful alive in Santa Cruz.

Living intentionally with power

On the radio yesterday, Brad Kava and I interviewed Cale Garamendi, a project developer at a local solar company, Sandbar Solar. We had a great, wide-ranging conversation about solar power, which you can access in this archive for a short time. (Click on the Nov. 11 episode.)

My favorite part of the conversation was when we veered into the philosophical (not surprisingly): Having solar power not only frees you somewhat from dependence on the grid, but also reminds you to use power intentionally.

Like anyone who is paying attention, I cycle through various emotions when it comes to our environmental problems. I have moments of pure grief. When I am on my morning walk in November wearing light clothing, it’s hard to keep away from thinking terrible things like whether there will even be redwood trees for our future grandchildren to enjoy.

I’m not holding myself up as a great example of virtuously green living: I do drive a car; I do use my clothing dryer; I do love a hot shower. But something that gives me great peace is a focus on intentional living.

Our solar panels aren’t up yet, but we’re already thinking about how we use power, and it’s not too far away from how people might have considered their power usage in the 19th century. Then, they likely heated with coal or wood, two things that needed to be procured. If they were in a city, it would be delivered, probably on a schedule. Use it up too fast, freeze for a few days. If they lived in the country, they likely used a local power source such as wood.

In any case, people used to have to consume power intentionally. Every time they lit a lamp in the evening, they had to think: Do I need to burn this oil?

We’ve gotten away from that. Although my family is really good about keeping lights that we don’t need off, I do know that we have been incredibly cavalier about those lights always coming on when we need them.

Intentional living has shown to make people happier because they are more engaged. Certainly, my solar panels, short showers, green napkins, and electric car are not going to save our planet. But if they help me feel more energized and hopeful—and if everyone feels more energized and hopeful—we have a little bit more of a chance of figuring this all out.

Yummy Green Kombucha

Another step on my goal to live a more sustainable lifestyle is to stop using so many products that come in disposable packaging. As a major consumer of kombucha (a fermented Chinese tea, for those of you who haven’t yet come across it), I have consoled myself that at least the drink comes in glass bottles.

But those glass bottles have plastic tops and take huge amounts of energy to create and transport. And then, in the end, you still have a heavy, well-made glass bottle that you toss in the recycling.

…I will avoid moaning about what’s happening, or rather not happening, with our recycling these days!

So here you have it: my second attempt at creating a low-waste solution to my kombucha habit. (I realize that there’s a no-waste solution, but that’s not an option!)

My first bottle from my growing batch of kombucha. You can see the half-sunk scoby in there. A new one will form on the top.

Making kombucha is a natural process. Now that I have my setup—a jar and a bunch of high-quality beer bottles—the only waste will be the packaging that the tea comes in. Since we shop in Chinese tea stores and buy in large quantities, one glass tea jar will last for months.

And since the heating pad will be run on our forthcoming solar system, I don’t even feel bad about that.

I realize that these attempts, like my Homely Green Napkins project, are small things. But I feel that what we need to do is turn back cultural change that happened as a result of the push for convenience and mass production in the 50s. If enough of us push back on our culture-bred tendency to consume and discard, we can shift our weight enough to change course.

Dead scoby…ew! I’m sorry for any mistreatment you received at my hands, dear, departed friend.

A note about failure: Why is this my second attempt? Let’s just say that a dying scoby (a.k.a. kombucha mother) is not a pretty sight! But I am determined to nurture my new scoby by feeding it and supporting its health, which in turn will feed me and support my health.

All of life is a cycle, and like it or not, what we do on a day-to-day basis influences the path.

Now available