Transformative Education

I haven't posted in two weeks because I was enjoying spring break and then visiting Down to Earth Farm with my sustainability class. As part of their experience with community-based transformational learning, we volunteered at a small, local organic farm that runs a CSA and also sells its produce at nearby farmers' markets. Every time I visit Brian and Kristen's farm, I'm delighted to see what can happen with dedication and a willingness to learn. Brian told one of my students that he didn't really know much at all about farming when he and Kristen began their endeavor, but through reading, talking, and trial and error, they're entering their third year of farming, and he knows more than ever.

I like remembering that we don't need to know it all, we simply need a passion for something, the ability to ask questions, and openness regarding outcomes. We'll learn the lessons we're meant to know. And, to be trite, whether we "succeed" or "fail," we'll have had the pleasure of the journey.

All in all, I hope this semester that is winding to an end has been a pleasurable journey for my students. I know discussing sustainability, learning more, experimenting with my own life, has been enjoyable for me. We have three weeks left in our semester, and I'm eager to see the students' presentations on the knowledge and experience they've gained throughout the semester. Hopefully, this classroom experience that has been feed by and in turn fed their day-to-day lives has been one with lasting effect. That's when education is truly transformative...for students and teacher alike.

You Are What You Eat

Since March 7, I've been participating in an online workshop, 30 Day Vegan, which is the brainchild of the lovely Heather at beautythatmoves. It coincides nicely with the "No Meat March" project at the yoga studio where I teach, and it has been a wonderful "retreat" at home. Heather has created an amazing workshop providing access to a exclusive blog that features twice-daily posts, incredible recipes, and boundless inspiration.

Since I didn't eat meat for a good 17 years of my life, "No Meat March" isn't a challenge for me, and even eating based on the menus Heather shares isn't difficult since I eat an organic whole foods diet anyway and have long been highly conscious of my food choices. I'm not a big dairy eater either, since I don't like the taste of cow's milk, but I am a fan of cheese, yogurt, even the occasional ice cream. Most challenging for me, then, has been finding new whole food snacks that don't involve dairy products but that are more filling than an apple or some celery sticks (even with nut butter).

Yesterday, wanting something slightly sweet and creamy, I came up with avocado "pudding," and it was fantastic. Of course, you have to like avocados to begin with, but for those of us who do, this treat is a winner. I sliced a small avocado into the blender, added about a half-cup of unsweetened coconut milk and about a tablespoon of natural maple syrup. After a whirl in the blender, the result was a creamy, sweet bowl of spring-green goodness: great taste, healthy fats, vitamins and minerals (even from the maple syrup, believe it or not)...a truly nourishing mid-afternoon treat that V and I shared.

If we are what we eat, I'm feeling good about myself and hope you are too.

Time to Talk Chickens

I just learned that zoning laws prohibit chickens in "medium density" neighborhoods, which means that I can't legally keep backyard chickens. I'd need to live somewhere more rural in order to have them, but this hasn't stopped my neighbors. The family next door had chickens before they left for a more rural part of town; several days ago they brought us a dozen fresh eggs, brown and that lovely Easter-egg green that Ameracaunas lay. And recently, when I awaken at 5AM, I've begun to hear the call of a rooster from what I am sure is the next block.

Zoning laws or not, people are keeping chickens. And why not? They are easy pets with comic personalities, and they can be quite gentle when handled regularly as chicks. Many claim that, after the more care-intensive first six weeks, they are easier to keep than cats and dogs, requiring not much more than daily feeding, watering, and a hand to open their coop in the morning and shut them back inside at night. That sounds like a lot less maintenance than scooping poop from litter box or lawn. They offer natural pest control for backyard gardens, as they free range and eat infiltrating bugs, and they provide compost with their droppings. There are many different, often quite pretty, breeds offering benefits based on the purpose for which one chooses to keep them (eggs, meat, or ornamentation), their heat- or cold-heartiness, and even their level of noise.

Given the zoning laws, I'm glad I know of a breed that makes nary a peep--chickens that are quieter and less of a nuisance than the neighbor's free-running dog or another neighbor's obnoxious motorcycle. Let's talk about zoning laws that prevent keeping chickens but allow window-thumping music at 11PM or prolonged train whistles at 3AM. Where's the real nuisance? I ask. Sounds to me like an appeal to city council is my next order of business...along with an order of stealthily silent chicks.

Right Under Our Noses

Last Saturday, my family had the pleasure of enjoying a 5-year-old's birthday party. The really great thing about this party is that it was hosted by Restoration Farms, a surprisingly close haven for organic living and animal rescue. The owner sells organic produce out of her garage, raises chickens, and lives with rescued dogs, cats, and horses. We had a bountiful organic lunch of soup, salads, fresh bread, fruits, and veggies. We met the chickens, and the kids were given pony rides. I'm amazed more and more at how many organic operations there are right here in this busy, sprawling, corporate-driven town. Right under our noses we're given glimpses of sustainable living, given the opportunity to help support it, and given the inspiration to live such lives ourselves.

Slow is Radical

"They paved paradise to put up a parking lot." --Joni Mitchell

Our class spent some time reading a book by Richard Register called Ecocities: Rebuilding Cities in Balance with Nature. It was an interesting and radical read, despite its ability to put some people off with its angry tone and seemingly impossible ideas of drastically altering the way we live, work, and move within cities.

Given Loki's death last week and the message of Register's book, I've been thinking about how attached to and dependent upon cars most of our cities are and how cars encourage our desire for speed and distance. Register attests that 15 mph is a speed at which it's almost impossible to hurt oneself or others, and I think about this in relation to our neighborhood speed limit of 30 mph (which is regularly broken by people driving down our street). A car at 15 mph would likely have had time to stop before hitting my cat.

All in all, slowing down seems to be a concept foreign to most of our culture, but the recent resurgence of popularity in "slow arts" such as knitting, baking, gardening, and cooking from scratch attests to the fact that many of us desire to slow down and fully take in the moments and contexts of our lives. These slow arts compete with mass produced clothing, fast food restaurants, and pre-packaged processed foods because we are used to convenience and to living at the speed of a TV commercial.

What would it take for us to slow down a bit? Likely, we would need to change our habit of packing in as many activities and errands as we can into the shortest possible time span. We would need to refrain from multi-tasking in many areas of our lives. Maybe we would need to do less in a day, make fewer demands of ourselves. We would probably need to watch less TV, freeing up time to cook a meal or take a walk. We would need to practice mindful awareness of our day-to-day doings. We would need to take a moment to breathe. We would have the time to follow the speed limit.

In doing this, we might find ourselves less stressed, less rushed, and even with more time to dedicate to the things that matter to us. We might begin to recognize how constant motion can work against contentment and begin to see the paradise beyond the pavement.

Sitting with Sadness

This photo was taken last week when V. and I were in the backyard, picking radishes and enjoying the sunshine. Loki, aptly named after the Norse god of mischief, was a constant companion, though he had limited amounts of patience with V. since she's still so young. L. and I always knew he was a dog in a cat's body (the best of both worlds for us, really, since L. is a dog lover and I love cats). He was fiercely loyal and protective. He would growl from inside the house when someone he didn't know or trust came onto our front porch. He would defend his territory against dogs, raccoons, and possums. Once, he even chased our Doberman around the house when Turkish ran to the door to greet me; Loki thought the dog was attacking me. Loki found us, six months after L. and I were married, and estimates of his age placed his birth sometime around our wedding. He was certainly a gift to us.

Loki was run over by a car on Monday afternoon. Now he is buried in our backyard, close as he always was.

In the Garden

Thankfully, we've had some pretty cold weather this winter in sunny FLA, which is helping winter crops thrive. Yesterday, V. and I pulled these radishes from the garden, and I noticed that the broccoli rabe (which I love!) is beginning to bud. I have a recipe for broccoli rabe with gemelli and red potatoes that's a winter favorite and, knowing how hard it can be to find the vegetable, I decided to try my hand at planting it this winter.

I must say that the photos look lovely, but the garden itself is another story. L. tells me that I don't have a green thumb; although I immediately feel defensive when he says this, the implication being that our plants usually shrivel and die, practically speaking he's right. Except for a few young spinach plants, the rest of the garden is a desert wasteland. I still contend that this has less to do with my lacking a green thumb and more to do with my busy schedule and, I should admit, some forgetfulness. Plus, the garden wasn't helped any by our two-week trip to Virginia over the holidays. (Yes, the cats had a sitter, but the garden didn't.)

Now that we're back and I'm seeing the garden's lack of productivity, I realize a few things. First, I haven't done all that badly with the watering (and of course I've been aided by some lovely rainy days). Second, I really need to be willing to start seeds indoors or in a make-shift greenhouse, rather than being "lazy" and simply planting straight to the garden. This works for some vegetables (obviously the radishes, rabe, and spinach), but it didn't work this time around for the six or so other vegetables I planted.

What this means, of course, is that we should get busy constructing a greenhouse of sorts so that I can start some plantings for spring. I opt for the greenhouse over the indoor option given the fact that V., almost two years-old, is an active toddler (one of our family's favorite games is to tick a big bouncy ball around the house. L. or I will hold V. and then we'll try to kick the ball past each other, soccer-style. Fun, yes. Potentially dangerous to fragile seedlings--and the occasional lamp--of course).

This also means that my students are right: living more sustainably can feel like a good deal of work, which deters many from trying. As I reiterate to them, what matters is that we each find the areas of our lives where we are willing to do the work. We can start small with what aligns with our own values, passions, and energies. Then, we can see what sprouts from there.

Making it from scratch...

For the sustainability class, one of the books I chose was Jenna Wognirich's Made From Scratch: Discovering the Pleasures of a Handmade Life. I had been a fan of her blog before I designed this class and knew I wanted to include her work somehow, as she seems to be down-to-earth, accessible, and motivating. A fan of her blog, I had yet to read her books, but I did read MFS over the weekend. I dug into it like a garden, let it carry me away like her dogsledding team would, gobbled it up like the bread she writes of baking. (I know I'm being corny here, but her prose is so homey and light that it just feels right.) I don't know about anyone else, but upon finishing her book, I propped it open at page 72 and proceeded to bake bread from her easy recipe (with a few modifications, including whole wheat flour); it turned out wonderfully and V., L., and I ate half a loaf immediately, still warm and slathered with butter and honey.

I already cook and bake from scratch, but Jenna has inspired me to try baking our own bread weekly (instead of on the random occasions when the mood strikes me). Already a passable crocheter but a very-beginning knitter, after finishing the book I picked up some knitting needles I had previously discarded and set to work again on a scarf I've wanted to make for V. Additionally, in late December I had declared to my husband that one of my intentions for the new year was to have backyard chickens, and now that I'm half-way through Jenna's second book, Chick Days, I'm feeling more eager and better informed than ever.

I appreciate reading the memoirs of someone who works a 9 to 5 job and still has taken it upon herself to live a more self-sufficient and sustainable life. Her books really do serve as a guide for anyone who has a homesteading itch, which apparently I do.

Who knows, maybe my next flash of homesteading inspiration will be to pick up a dulcimer, which Jenna described as "beginner-proof." As someone who's background in playing instruments is two semesters of violin in college, I think beginner-proof sounds just perfect.

Still breathing...now blogging again

Almost a year it's been since I posted here. In the interim, I've been living, of course, and finding balance between family, teaching yoga, and teaching at the university. Dropping my daily blogs was a way of securing much-needed time for other important endeavors.

Now that I'm teaching a class for which I've asked students to blog, I am trying to commit myself to a weekly post on our course topic: sustainable living. We'll see how it goes...