Picky picky

Does anyone remember when a suicide bomber successfully attacked a CIA base in Afghanistan? It's hard to keep all the destructive events straight, but this one is slightly more special because it's the deadliest attack on U.S. intelligence personnel in over 20 years. Apparently the CIA had a double agent on the payroll.

Double agents are inevitable, that's not what set me off. The BBC article ends with this lovely quote:

"The CIA has not released the names of the officials killed nor details of their work because of the sensitivity of US operations. But the head of the base, reported to be a mother-of-three, was among those killed."

I didn't know the public was privy to family details of fallen officers, but for women the media makes an exception. Not once have I read anything describing a male officer as a father-of-two or anything like that, especially when no names have been released.

Lame, BBC. 'S all I gotta say.

insanity is the human condition

"Mr. Maginnis said he concluded that the analysts were being “manipulated” to convey a false sense of certainty about the evidence of the weapons. Yet he and Mr. Bevelacqua and the other analysts who attended the briefing did not share any misgivings with the American public. Mr. Bevelacqua and another Fox analyst, Mr. Cowan, had formed the wvc3 Group, and hoped to win military and national security contracts."

If I'm reading this correctly, a few military analysts had been so co-opted by the government in their quest for funding, they were willing to allow the American public to be duped into a war. They stood by--specific people with the power to end the madness. Instead, it turns out they too were mad, driven crazy by the pursuit of money.

Then again, insanity has always been a part of the human condition. That explains why I'm not so surprised. Really, I'd be surprised if the opposite happened. Yet shouldn't there be balance? Because if we either despair completely or embrace it, then we wouldn't be aware of the difference, or the existence of this quality.

thoughts

Most of the men I meet in the Northwoods fit the same general category--fit guys who spend the weekends drinking beer, fishing, hunting, playing football, and eating game for dinner. I know, there's got to be plenty of couch potatoes too, but it still feels like all the boys in the woods spend their weekends running around the woods in rites of manhood.

A friend thinks conservatives are the conglomeration of society's winners--religious, wealthy, 'popular kids' type people. Liberals are the outsiders, loser type people. This sounds like a case of low self-esteem from internalized marginalization.

Today it snowed. Many trees haven't even changed colors (and this is definitely what most people were talking about today, as though yearning for order). I thought it was beautiful. After work I went for a drive with my friend of 6 years. Over the course of that drive, the leaves turned from light green to brilliant yellow. Snow began to fall in clumps like goose down. The leaves let out low rustles, splintering in the sky; frozen water in their veins.

The ways of trout and men

"I sit in happy meditation on my rock, pondering, while my line dries again, upon the ways of trout and men. How like fish we are: ready, nay, eager, to seize upon whatever new thing some wind of circumstance shakes down the river of time! And how we rue our haste, finding the gilded morsel to contain a hook. Even so, I think there is some virtue in eagerness, whether its object prove true or false. How utterly dull would be a wholly prudent man, or trout, or world!"
--Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac

As I read these words, I couldn't help but think about the two weeks (was it really just two weeks) at a start-up commune outside Des Moines, IA. With almost no time spent pondering pros and cons, I quit my job for a chance to put my thoughts of self-sustainability into action.

In less resume-leaning words, I've wanted to escape the capitalism-induced rat race for roughly a year. Once while trying to fall asleep, I thought about all the hands my bedsheets, pillows and pillow covers must have gone through to comfort my insomniac self. Where was the cotton grown? Who harvested it? Where does polyester come from? How much were the various human laborers paid? Who drove the materials via semi to the retailer? What was the clerk's name who sold it to me? What happened to those dollars shoved with efficient fingers into the cash register? Like water molecules in the Misssissippi: impossible to know.

The questions piled on top of me, weighing me down. So many invisible hands (no pun intended). Is it perverse to turn up my nose to it all, like a picky toddler? A fan of post-apocalypse fiction, I'm worried. My role in society is to consume. Economists assume we are all rational (as opposed to emotional), self-interested (as opposed to we-interested) individuals (rather than part of an interconnected web of global citizens).

***

Once on sightseeing trip in Laos, we stopped at a village. The huts emptied and a makeshift booth of wares quickly appeared. I found myself haggling with a woman etched in wrinkles for a few dolls. She wanted two dollars, I only had one. My friend gave me a ten, which soon disappeared into the woman's purse. Furious at being "cheated," I stormed back to the taxi, where everyone gave me and my preposterous anger a wide berth. This is what rational self-interest got me: a transaction that left me frustrated and alienated.

Soon I repented. For the price of Ann Coulter's How to Talk to a Liberal (If You Must), the woman's windfall was enough to feed her family for a week. A bit sick at myself, I gave away the dolls to a few girls at a school for children born with H.I.V. in Thailand. Seen in this light, a point of view wholly alien to the self-interested rational consumer, the trade was a good one, a tithing of sorts for the general we're-in-a-mess fund.

***

And so, with thoughts of anti-capitalism whispering through the hallways of my mind, I'm looking for a way to opt-out. I didn't choose this system. If I had any choice in the matter, I'd choose something much different...right? Armed with a college education I shook off that musty job and headed for the woods.

My dreams collided with reality, and there were no survivors. With autumn approaching, I was living in a non-winterized cabin with no running water, no harvest, and a coterie of washed-up hippies who kept most of their belongings at their parents' house a few miles away. To me, this was a lifestyle change; to them, it was a cheap vacation.

None of it was dull, so Leopold was right in that respect. Is my eagerness a virtue, as he intones from the warm spring banks of Wisconsin's Round River circa 1966? To decide that, it's time to pull out its antonyms: reluctant, loath, unwilling. Thank you very much, no. I'm siding with eagerness on this one.

What a day

It's funny what a shift in perception does to a person. For the first time ever, I looked forward to coming home...and for the first time ever, I'm having a great time. It's exhilarating how easy it is. In a dozen different ways the town has been saying "Welcome back!". I've been home for less than a week, and already I have a job, airtime at KAXE and the role of laundress/chorus member in the Grand Rapids Players production of "The Christmas Carol." When I visited Brewed Awakenings, my purchased drink earned me a free beverage of my choice!

I do worry about my sanity in being a "boomerang" young adult. This hometown is by no means perfect. There's not a lot of young people like myself who are "with it." The smart and ambitious usually move to the Twin Cities and beyond, and I fear those who don't have lost some sort of struggle to break free from the backwaters of the Iron Range. Who would choose to return to a community that has always experienced economic stagnation when the country is in the midst of the Great Recession? Have I commited economic suicide just so I could live somewhere closer to my comfort zone?

Thing is, this town is the antithesis of my comfort zone. Throughout my youth, I felt alienated and alone. For years my plan had been to leave town as quickly as possible and never return.

Then I did leave, and walked the earth. My travels include Nicaragua, Vietnam, Spain, and Iowa. I've learned that happiness cannot be found in a particular place like eggs on Easter morning. Furthermore, most cultures don't expect people to go very far from home. Travel? Yes. Pilgrimage? Very much so. Permanent uprooting? From what I've read, Grapes of Wrath being an extreme example, this usually causes more unhappiness than staying put.

Besides, what's not to love about a town with multiple lakes within city limits, the Mississippi, and more forests than the inhabitants know what to do with? It took me a while to admit it, but I fit into this place like one of Mom's knitted mittens fit onto my hands. As far as I'm concerned, my homecoming is a fresh start. It's also a chance to put into action my favorite bumper sticker commandment: think globally, act locally.

In transit, still

I'm at my parents house. My goal: reduce worldly possessions to one (1) box of memorabilia and one (1) backpack. This is hopefully going to be simple--I have the memorabilia box full, and now I just need to pack for Acorn. Once I'm done packing, I'll send the rest to Salvation Army. Still, I know there's going to be a few roadblocks, in particular my beloved teapot and coffeemaker. Then there's the shoe situation, posters, souvenirs... maybe I need a third box of stuff I plan to use if I ever settle down.

Ok, so a backpack and two boxes of worldly possessions. Everything else I can't part with, I bequeath to my parents. They have already unknowingly inherited my food stash and several boxes of books.

I found a website of super-teeny houses. One may even call them one room cabins. It would look great nestled in the woods somewhere. As soon as I have enough money saved up to buy land, the house plans, and the equipment needed to build the house, I'm planting myself somewhere near a lake in northern minnesota. Where I can hear loons calling and watch the northern lights.

Being at my parents house is oddly exhilarating. Usually I dread it, because I spend long stretches of time vegging out and feeling lonely. But after the commune experience I think my expectations have adjusted. The teenage angst from high school has evaporated, and all the clutter in the house has disappeared. These two things were apparently the only issues holding me back from bliss.

I think I'll have myself a sauna tonight. Tomorrow I send the rest of my clutter to Sally A. And buy a plane ticket to Virginny.

About the cabin in the woods. Will I feel lonely? Thing is, I feel lonely even when I'm in a room full of people. In fact, I feel even more lonely, like I've misplaced my soul. Solitude is preferable. As long as I have high speed internet of course. And this all hinges on having an income, which is also a bother. Minnesota's growing season isn't that great, so I'm not sure if I can grow all the food I need myself.

Baby steps. First I'll go to Acorn and embark on my goal towards self-sustainability. The rest will follow--this is definitely something I can figure out.

And another thing...

As I work on my grande coffee, I've been feeling more and more hyper. Also more anxious, as I keep exploring different career options once I'm set to leave the cabin. But I need to remind myself how exciting this time in my life is, and I don't want to waste these moments feeling anxious. I have plenty of money saved up and my parents are supportive. They've even invited me to move back in with them if I'm having trouble finding a job. So there's no reason I can't find a job I love, given all these tools I have.

I have sent out resumes to 6 great organizations: Environment America, Earth Day, USPIRG, Worksafe, Food and Society Fellows, and the Cascade Land Conservancy. I've already had an interview with Environment America, and I know it went well. I'll keep doing research on other environmentalist organizations to see about landing a job if these don't work out.

I've also started exersizing, more out of necessity than choice. If I want to leave the cabin, I need to bike to town. So I've been biking at least 10 miles a day. Yesterday I biked over 30 miles. I've also started meditating 15 minutes a day.

From now on I have three daily goals: meditate for 15 minutes a day right after waking up. My cell phone is already set for two alarms--one for waking up, the next for the end of my meditation session. The other goal is to bike to Adel every day after breakfast to check my email and read the news. My final goal is to write for 30 minutes while in Adel, whether that's a blog entry, journaling, a poem, whatever.

This will at least keep me busy for the next week and and two days.

I'm starting to seriously put my life in order. Pay off those loans with a career in environmentalist activism. Save up for WWOOFing abroad. Spend a few years in eco-villages around the United States. Get a PhD in American History. Land a professorship at the University of Iowa. Live in Iowa City.

Sounds fantastic.