In contrast to last week's hyperlink-laden jokey exuberance, I'm in a contemplative mood this time round. The issue I'm contemplating? What one might term the cultural "shadow side" of ecological friendliness.
But wait! I hear you protest. Eco living is a simple no-brainer. It's about conserving resources, and wasting less, and making do with what you have, and teaching that to our children!
True, but there's also no getting around the fact that pesticide-free produce, and organic cotton clothing, and nontoxic cleaners -- all those basics we are encouraged to "green up" with in preparation for baby, or in our everyday household life with little people -- are expensive, especially for families who struggle on one income, or, heck, sometimes even two.
Sometimes it feels like we have one of two extremes to draw upon as sources of inspiration and guiding principle: either an intrepid, even militant, DIY ethos of off-the-grid sustainability, or an urbane, Whole Paycheck-meets-$20 a pop cloth diapers pose of sloppy, studied eco-cool. But what if, either by philosophy or sheer necessity, you fall somewhere in the middle?
I used to think our actions we have are as defined as a pendulum's steady swing: either you live your principles, or you don't. In reality, though, our choices are prismatic, informed by more factors than there are colors in the spectrum, with an ofentimes warped, circular logic. Yes, it feels weird to buy small, spendy, prepackaged portions, which will fit inside your tiny apartment freezer, knowing that, if you only could afford a house with a garage, you'd be able to frugally stock a giant chest freezer with containers of cheap(er) and heartier homemade organic stews. (And let's not even get into what materials those containers should consist of.)
As parents, we're used to a kind of triage in our daily lives. (Can I mop up the dog's water my daughter spilled on the floor first, or does her runny nose need more immediate attention?) But how do we handle the triage of environmental consciousness? How do we step outside slavish devotion to an ideal without guilt, long enough to respect our occasional, valid need for convenience? How do we navigate the reality of our financial limitations, when activism merges with affluenza, urging us that little Dakota needs a bamboo, recycled fair trade fleece pullover for the winter?
I welcome your thoughts.
(P.S. Full disclosure: Much as I good-naturedly mock, I am in bamboo clothing lust at the moment, ever since I saw the wares of a company called
Buchic, based out of Milwaukie. Oh, Lawdy, Lawd, were those T-shirts soft.)