Put down what you are carrying
Worrying seems to be in my nature.
Same with a scattered attention span. Sometimes the worries seem illogical or irrational in hindsight — like worrying if I’ll show up somewhere on-time or what to make for dinner. But lately — I can’t shake the feeling that some of my worries carry weight for a reason. The two (and boy do they go deep) that come to mind first are: American Healthcare and the Earth’s climate. And if I let myself, I can get myself trapped under that weight and become completely stuck. Stuck in a few ways — stuck emotionally where I struggle to find joy in some (most) moments in my life, stuck physically as I notice I’ve stopped exercising and begun numbing my feelings with substances like carbs, and, worst of all it turns out, stuck spiritually…
Talking about religion, politics, healthcare, etc. can be a touchy subject. I hesitate to put this out into the fumes of the internet, but I need to put this down. I’m giving so few fucks right now, as I imagine consequences to sharing personal things on the internet, my only hope is that it resonates with someone. But my worry? My worry is that it won’t. My worry is that my views on healthcare and the climate are just that (mine), and that the trajectory of society and the health of our communities is angled such that… I’m feeling a little hopeless. I have a few close friends who I know are on (or close to) the same level of understanding, the same wavelength, we vibe. But the rest? I honestly have no idea anymore.
I had to take a break from social media in a very significant way (for me) a few years ago. I noticed that time I spent browsing, posting, numbing online were leaving me feeling low and kind of grumpy. Deactivating (because nothing is ever really “deleted” from our data exhaust), was immensely helpful for my mood and outlook. But, I’m finding myself a bit out of touch now. Because reality is occurring online over there, and I’m out here like, “yeah, but, guys, the planet and its people are out here”. And out here is starting to scare me on a daily basis.
But Jessie, what are you scared of?
Oh I’m so glad you asked — here are my worries for today:
Worry 1: American Healthcare is spiraling towards its fiery doom and everyone thinks the power of prayer will save it.
What else?
Worry 2: Our planet is telling us with the only voice She has that our choices are unhealthy, and we need to change quickly for the survival of our species. Not Her survival… ours.
Let’s dive in to Worry 1:
Healthcare is fucked and the only thing we can do is learn how to take care of each other and promote wellness in our communities. Problem solved!
Phew — let’s give some attention to Worry 2:
Our planet. First and foremost, nature is my church. Her songs, sights, textures. I feel the most alive when I’m outside, watching what’s happening when I stop interfering. Noticing the human noises, dents, scrapes, drains… The ways we’re sucking the life out of this planet and all of Her resources. We’d be foolish to think that we’re the ones keeping Her alive. She was alive long before we came along, and She’ll be here long after Her fever, rigors, sweats, antibodies, whatever She needs to throw at us to stop this Human Infection.
And that’s the worry — that we humans don’t notice that we’re the Earth’s illness. And like illness in the human body, our planet has a strong immune system and will fight back. We could take this lesson and work towards a symbiotic relationship. Like the mites that live in our human eyebrows — they don’t bother us, and we try not to think about them being there. The same goes for our home planet — if we could just stop abusing Her, and learn ways to live cohesively and sustainably, She would sing.
She tried to use her words, and the attentive scientists spoke up. But we silly humans ignored them, because their truth was too inconvenient. So when Her words didn’t work, like a kid who’s getting frustrated, She started acting out. But we silly humans are only seeing the tantrum, and not the reason behind it. Some of us do, and we’re trying to take action, but good golly is it exhausting to carry the weight of the world. It feels futile. I feel hopeless.
So what can I do with these worries? I’m trying to take action in my community. Because I don’t know what else to do. Start small, and see what grows.
In my town, we have a garden plot program through the park district. There is a set of raised garden beds by a big park in town that residents (and non-residents) can rent for a season. Neat! I love the idea of communal gardening, coming together to watch the magic of the earth come out of the soil. A sense of togetherness, a shared passion, a gathering space. I’m into it!
I moved to a house with a small yard and limited sunlight last year, and have been slowly figuring out how and where to make the magic happen at home. I thought about using one of the garden plots, but when they were printed in the park district mailer they were already sold out for the season. They even took the time to put that in writing and print it: Sold Out for 2022 Season. Awesome, there’s such a demand that people are jumping up at the opportunity to garden together!
And the ideas started flowing!
I decided to investigate an expansion of the garden plot program. I live near several housing types: apartments and condos, townhomes, and single-family homes. Some folks have gigantic suburban yards, others have none. I also live near a sprawling community park that’s in the middle of a huge project to add/revitalize the outdoor offerings. Play equipment, redoing the soccer fields, outdoor exercise stuff, etc. It’s under construction this year, but people are excited about what’s coming. The park also has two baseball diamonds, one that’s manicured and well-maintained, the other appears untouched and is covered in divots and weeds. My youngest son took up tee-ball this year, and if he hadn’t I might not know that there’s a “shortage” of usable baseball diamonds in our town to support all the teams/leagues for the whole season. Which begs the question: why aren’t they using that unmanicured field? Maybe it’s too expensive to maintain. Maybe there’s not enough help. I’m not here to fix the problems of baseball, we’re talking about expanding a garden plot program (Field 22 is pictured below).
Let’s get this brain train back on its tracks.
The reason I’m including all the details is so that my conversation with the Director of the Parks Department makes sense. I wrote a letter to the Park District and got a response a few days later (actually, I heard back the day after Memorial Day which really impressed me). The guy, Joe, said he would call me the following day to discuss my proposal. When we talked, I shared my passion for the health of our communities, my love of gardening and how it brings people together, and my excitement that there’s such a demand for garden plots that they were sold out before the mailer was even printed. Wahoo! Can you help me figure out how to expand the program, and maybe build some plots near this gigantic park near my house?
Joe told me it sounded like something worth looking into, he was kind and informative, he was patient in listening to my winding story about the importance of gardening for our communities and our planet. He listened to me go on and on (as I tend to do), then he shared some plans with me. I think he expected me to be excited about the “pie-in-the-sky master plan”, but I actually found it very disheartening.
It turns out, he said, flat spaces like the park near my house are a hot commodity. Soccer fields are in short supply, and (if they can get the funding for this extremely expensive project), the Master Plan includes using that space for a Turf Field. Grass fields take a lot of upkeep, he said, and are costly to maintain (mowing, maintenance, the wear-and-tear each season…). So at Turf Field (though extremely expensive and unlikely to happen), is the Pie In The Sky Master Plan.
A TURF FIELD? Do you hear yourself? The hopeful, pie-in-the-sky MASTER PLAN for this huge open natural space… is to replace it with PLASTIC GRASS for soccer practice.
I felt my balloon of hope deflate.
I was initially so excited – I sent an email, got a call, and had the listening ear of the Director of the Parks Department… and it turns out, my words fell on deaf ears.
Not that he didn’t listen, he did (or seemed to). But, if these plans are already written, and grants are already pending, and someone somewhere with a bigger, louder, more-informed voice than mine is speaking up about it… what hope is there for my idea?
Joe went on to explain other steps that could/should be taken before even considering expanding the program. He said that folks who participated last year get first dibs for the upcoming season, and sometimes they get more than one plot. His suggestion was to limit the number of plots people get each season. He also said sometimes people rent the plot and it goes unused for the season. He said people line up for these plots the day they become available… LINE UP FOR A SPACE TO GARDEN!!! And he’s going to see about limiting how much space they can get.
That doesn’t sound like the answer to me. More gardens, right?
He also suggested I visit all the beautiful outdoor spaces in our town, pollinator gardens and native plants to appreciate. I don’t think he understands the weight of my request. I’m not looking for a pretty place to smell flowers. I believe food scarcity is going to affect the lives of my descendants, and I want to leave a space with healthy soil that was lovingly tended, to feed them for generations. Sure, gardens are pretty to look at, flowers smell nice, etc. but this is about growing food for our communities.
I was disheartened because I think he missed the point.
Their master plan reminds me of The Lorax.
And we’ve forgotten that we speak for the trees.
Joe helpfully said he would get me information on the Master Plan, and some history on the initial garden plot program so I can understand where to go from here. While I wait, I will try not to lose hope. I feel about my town the way Leslie Knope feels about Pawnee… but right now I’m wishing I could channel her joy and excitement. Because right now, the weight just feels too heavy. So I’m putting it here, and I’ll try not to let it drag me down. If you’re picking up what I’m putting down, feel free to commiserate with me.
Being a human can be exhausting.