A city girl's explorations into sustainable living

Recently I found myself unemployed, pondering what I should do with my life next. All the career books say, do what you love. Find your passion. Follow your bliss. As if there is an answer -- a solution that will allow you to make money doing what you were meant to do. Help the world, help yourself, and make money!

For me, it's not so easy. I'm interested in a lot of things, but nothing that I am willing to invest in enough to turn it into a career.

I'm what Barbara Sher calls a "scanner," or what Margaret Lobenstine calls "the Renaissance Soul." At least that's what these self-help books for the career-stunted tell me.

What I tell myself is that I'm a learner. And what I want to learn about right now is sustainable living. I have a feeling it's what I'm supposed to be doing -- even if it doesn't pay. Even if it COSTS money to do.

I am meant to be a student right now, exploring peak oil, the economic crisis, climate change, sustainable agriculture, community building, permaculture, natural capitalism, Transition Towns, rural sociology, and my own spiritual growth. I honestly don't know where it will lead, or what it will amount to, but I invite you to share my journey.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Food Options

I recently read Joel Salatin's book "Holy Cows and Hogs in Heaven," which promotes buying food direct from farmers you know and trust as a means of improving your own health as well as the health of local economies, communities, and ecosystems. Joel maintains that the single best thing you can do to save the earth is eat food purchased from local, ethical, trustworthy, sustainable farmers. I believe there is a lot of truth to that.

When I moved to Fergus Falls, my first priority was to stock my kitchen. I went shopping for produce at four vendors: the local supermarket; the local independent health-food store; a farm stand on the side of the road; and Wal-Mart. I visited these vendors all on the same day; the juxtaposition of the experiences during each purchase was enlightening. I felt very differently with each one.

By far the most satisfying was purchasing "the perfect tomato" from the Bluebird Gardens stand from a kind, thoughtful woman who admitted she had been coveting this particular tomato all morning. She had picked it herself, and thought it was the epitome of tomatoes. She said I would have to enjoy it right away -- that very day -- because it was just at the right ripeness. So I bought that tomato, feeling somewhat guilty for taking the produce she had been coveting all morning, and I felt very proud to take it home and eat it that evening.

At the health food store, I bought locally-grown swiss chard. It was beautiful, green, and large... and I felt good about buying local and supporting the independent store. I refrained from buying the peaches there -- despite their tremendous appearance and flavor -- because I felt they were "too expensive" at 90 cents per peach. But I do realize that, compared to the cost of growing my own peaches, 90 cents per peach is a steal! Nevertheless, I passed them up and headed to Wal-Mart.

When I walked in to Wal-Mart (which is brand-new in town) and saw the expansive, colorful produce section, I was impressed. When I looked at the prices, my initial reaction was "I'm in heaven!" I had never seen produce for so little money!! A container of strawberries for under $2? Unbelievable! Of course, most of it was conventionally-grown far away from Fergus Falls... and I realized the farmers were getting short-changed (to say the least) with what must be an insulting compensation for the "fruits" of their labor. Yet I was hungry and wanted good food (by which I mean produce), so I stocked up and ended up spending by far the most money at Wal-Mart. I got a large quantity of produce at bargin prices, and that made me feel like a savvy consumer. But my satisfaction was tainted with guilt, knowing I was supporting an industrial food system that was depleting the land, polluting our environment, and cheating farmers out of a decent way of living (by which I mean earning a good income from growing produce sustainably, without exposing themselves to noxious chemicals, and selling it directly to people who value the farmer and appreciate their products).

The supermarket was the least satisfying shopping experience. The prices weren't that great; the produce didn't have a story; and I felt no pleasure from supporting a chain store.

I am going to try to get most of my produce from Bluebird Gardens... but I hate to admit Wal-Mart is a tempting back-up. Who knew buying produce could be such an aggravating moral and economic dilemma?

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