By Anne Williston
~ words meant for reality ~

All that matters is that the old be recovered on a new plane and be, itself, a new reality. This, too, gets away from you. So let it get away.

A Thomas Merton Reader: 16

Living green is a term you hear frequently.  It is applied to many things.  Business uses it to advertise when they adopt new ways of working that are more environmentally friendly.  Those who lived through the Great Depression have lived that way all their lives – saving, reusing, and repurposing were ingrained by the years of living with barely enough to survive.  My parents were like this.  We had a good life growing up, but going out to buy things was not always an option.  Money was put aside for the future, towards that rainy day that was sure to come.  Depression – era children experienced first hand what a “rainy day” was like: the homeless drifting from town to town, men lining up hoping to get work for the day, families pulled apart.

As a whole, America forgot what it was like to live without.  Abundance and prosperity made us soft.  Spend now – spend tomorrow’s wage.  Rainy days were thought to be a thing of the past.  But now, if it isn’t raining, storm clouds are threatening the course of our lives today and for some time into the future.

Living without has been repackaged as “Living Green.”  As a marketing tool, it sounds fantastic.  But if it isn’t a way of life, it doesn’t work.  Truly living green would mean abandoning the use of credit as a way to get what we want now.  Truly living green would require sacrifice and saving in hopes of a better future.  Not “business as usual.”

America’s economy is a mess – it is based on the use of credit so that people can buy more and buy more often.  Already, some people are spending more freely.  But, the financial core of this country is rotten.  The house is falling apart.

New reality?  We aren’t there yet.  This, too, has gotten away from us.  Until we change and let life based on spending and credit get away completely, our lives will not improve.  The house has a new coat of paint, but the termites are still destroying the foundation.

I’ve been going through boxes and boxes of papers, both from home and from work for the past week.  I’ve found all kinds of pictures that I need to sort through. I tossed several large bags full of papers – stuff I no longer believe I will use.  In the middle of one file, I found a plastic bag.  In the bag is a handful of seeds.  I don’t know what they are – I think I got them from someone at work.  I meant to give them to Mike, and here they are, shoved in a box and forgotten.

Today is my son’s 20th birthday.  He is leaving the teen years behind.  I’ve noticed the seeds of adulthood are starting to sprout in his life.  He made an eye doctor appointment on his own.  He asked me to help him prepare a budget.  He replaced the worn tires on his car. (I’m amazed he noticed they needed replacement!)

Of course, he still has some seeds that haven’t grown yet.  Yesterday, the replacement for his lost phone arrived.  It gave me a chance to catch up with one of his friends as he used the friend’s phone to access all the phone numbers he needed to re-enter.  (He never set up the back-up program to save his numbers for him in case he lost his phone.)  But – he did buy the phone insurance, so replacing the lost one was not nearly as painful as it could have been.  So, actually, that seed is growing, but still very tiny. 

Responsibility seems to grow in spurts in my life, as well.  After moving last fall, I had to take full responsibility for my own life.  While I still have two teens at home, it is the first time I have lived “alone.”  My youngest daughter is now gone for the summer and starts college in the fall.  My youngest son is frequently out of the house, visiting friends or his dad.

When my emotions get the best of me, I no longer have easy access to my husband.  I can’t demand that he “make me” feel better.  How I fell into that habit, I can’t even begin to describe, but moving out has helped to break it.  I am learning to feel all the emotions I used to stuff, deeming them unmentionables.  Grief, sadness, and all the ordinary sorrows of a human life are not obstacles to avoid, but the means to germinate a new understanding of who I am and who I am meant to be.

6/30/2010