a hard balance

as i wrote a couple of posts ago, i've been reading a lot. much of that reading has been nonfiction, and not only that, but nonfiction topics that are especially difficult or exhausting to read about for long stretches. i am currently two-thirds of the way through mark hertsgaard's great new book on climate change, hot. hertsgaard does an amazing job of balancing frank reporting and a hopeful outlook: he doesn't shrink from telling the truth about the severity of impending climate change, or how dire it will be if we don't act now, or how royally we have screwed up most climate initiatives thus far. he is a harsh critic of action (or lack of action) in the face of this crisis all across the globe--personal, business-sector, and political fronts included. at the same time, he dedicated this book to his five year old daughter... and he manages to remain hopeful about the possibility of meaningful and effective action being achieved here and now. it's a hard balance.

this morning i read the bulk of the chapter on food, perfectly titled "how will we feed ourselves?" in it, hertsgaard writes unflinchingly about the failings of the modern agro-economic system: soil degradation, over-tapping of groundwater resources, pursuit of profit over quality, chemical overuse and run off, and continued food inequities and widespread malnutrition. he talks about how china's northern plains will run out of water by 2030, how the american midwest will be baked by scorching high temperatures three summers out of four, and how the global population, projected to hit 9 billion by 2050, will require that our food systems continue to increase yields despite rapidly escalating climate pressures. will industrial agriculture feed the world? no. but organic agriculture as it stands today probably won't either. there are good answers to this question, but they require more innovation, investment, and forward thinking that doesn't exist on a large scale right now.
and then he travels to the african sahel, and finds people there who are lifting themselves out of poverty and hunger by employing simultaneously novel and old agricultural techniques. their efforts include allowing native trees to grow interspersed with their crops, and this simple step has not only increased crop yields, guaranteeing many families never-before-experienced food security, but it is also recharging the aquifer they live on, attracting wildlife, and offering a degree of livelihood and hope that they have never known. he also travels to a promising test farm in northern china, where a determined professor and a group of young chinese and international students are hoping to prove that traditional intensive farming methods will be able to feed the chinese nation, and rescue it from the total destruction of its soils and water table.


despair intermixed with hope. trouble balanced by effective action.


this hard balance, perhaps in a silly way, is reminiscent of my internal dialogue of late. i'm working less now, which leaves me a lot of free time to think. and i've been thinking a lot about the sorts of things i want to do in the future. this is a hard thing for me. for one, i'm not good at making these sorts of decisions: i'd much rather have them made for me in some way (but not dictatorially--that's guaranteed to make me want to do the exact opposite).
also, i'm overwhelmed by the options. i'm interested in doing so many things! they don't really seem to mesh very well: grad school, working on a farm, having an etsy website, working on my writing, traveling, serving in the peace corps, working in a coffee shop, going to culinary school, working for a nonprofit.... the list, it just goes on and on. i don't think i'm enough person (being that i am bound by time and only having one body and needing to do things like sleep) to do all of it, and yet i can't decide what to approach first.
this is the perennial issue with me: i'm paralyzed by the options. i don't know what to do first: i buy a book about block printing and the inks and even some items to print, but i haven't actually done it yet. i write in a dedicated way for a month, and then it drops off again, and i don't edit anything i work on. i spend a couple of weeks doing a really good job of meal planning and trying out new recipes, and then i fall off the wagon and rely on burritos and dinners out. i read a book that makes me really excited about studying community development or permaculture design or urban planning or what have you; a week later i'm burnt out by the idea, and want to be selfish and study poetry and crawl inside myself to hide from the world and write. there are a pile of seeds waiting to be planted at home, and i'm here at union block, writing rambling blog posts and staring off into space as the sun tries to dry out the mud outside. blurg.

so many things to do. and i know i really do have a lot of time (in the day, and in the years to come), but it doesn't feel that way. how can i balance doing things like craft projects and meal planning with a meaningful job or grad program? i know it isn't impossible but sometimes it feels that way. do you know what i mean?


luckily, i get to go home to a clean apartment (thanks to erik, whose cleaning rampages make up for my apathy in the face of a mess) and feel like i at least have space to start working on a project. last night i organized my seeds into what to plant now, later, and direct into the ground once it isn't so swampy. i have new herbs to put in pots and a lemon tree to pot up as well. i have a bottle of olive oil to use up. i'm thinking granola and banana bread. hopefully i can tackle that for now, and slowly i'll be able to figure out how to do everything i want to do without exploding my poor little overwhelmed brain. wish me luck.


b


one thing that definitely makes me feel hopeful lately:

ranunculus. especially that shade of pink that makes your eyes widen. so lovely.