Yesterday afternoon, I streamed President Obama’s much-anticipated speech in Cairo addressing Muslim communities of the world. Curled up at my tiny desk with computer and alocasia polly plant, I listened via the echo of my iPod buds. Why? Because my boyfriend’s brother, Mike, was hunched over his computer about 10 feet away (so it goes in this city apartment) focusing on an important email about his Fulbright placement in Turkey. I didn’t want to disturb him.
As the President’s speech unfolded, time stopped and some part of me zoomed-out. Mike is about to spend a year in a very Muslim part of a Muslim country; President Obama is asking us all to lay down our fear; it is 2009 and life is rich. In an unprecedented tone for an American President, he lauded the rich contributions of Islam in founding the modern world, spoke of the thriving American Muslim community and quoted the Koran, the Talmud and the Bible. The clear message: Fear gets you nowhere. (He’s choosing love over fear! I kept thinking, in reference to my friends who speak that way).
What started with the humility of “words alone will not meet the needs of our people”lead to “violence is a dead-end, not a sign of courage or power” and we must “chose progress over a self-defeating focus on the past” and that a “woman denied education is a woman denied equality” and finally telling young people that we have the chance to “re-imagine the world.”
All of this positive speak was buoyed by the President’s acknowledgment of the hard sustainable work necessary to undo centuries of tension. While shifting the model of leadership, President Obama called out to the citizens of the world to step it up. After the 57 minutes speech, I recounted the particulars to Mike…. (more…)
This week the Belgian city of Ghent will be going meat-free for one day every week. No city has ever done so. Their goal: to cut the city’s carbon footprint, battle obesity and recognize the impact of livestock on the environment. Who’s participating? Civil servants, elected councilors, and anyone else who’s inspired.
dis·place·ment n
Okay, I know some of you are rolling your eyes: “Earth Day, ughhhh, another batch of hippies preaching to the choir…. again.” Actually, the term hippie is slipping away into the lockbox of the past, turning almost inapplicable today. In place of hippies, a new breed of young, educated, iPhone-using doers has taken to the front lines. The Save-The-Earth slogan has morphed into Save-The-Earth-And-Ourselves. 
The punk-rockery adolescent guy and I had about 8 seconds to share in the elevator of the cavernous New York Public Library. His forearm was covered in lines that connected and squiggled, but squiggled with some sort of purpose.
The White House is digging a garden. Not another showcase flower garden. A vegetable garden… finally. They plan to have 55 varieties of vegetables, which in the mid-Atlantic climate is not hard to do. So why was Eleanor Roosevelt the last White House occupant to plant seeds?
A workmate told me yesterday that, at some point, she will end up living where her sister and brother do. Right now, that’s Austin, Texas. But, it could be anywhere.
Since when do birds need help to migrate? Turns out that humans are playing lead parent for some whooping cranes. Resurrected from near-extinction, these 5-foot tall birds were called “intolerant of civilization” (imagine!) by a 1946 NY Times article. Why? Because they need a square mile around each nest. A group called Operation Migration is trying to get the birds back to the east side of the continent. Volunteers dress up like a bird, fly an ultralight plane and lead the birds to Florida. With one trip under their belt, the birds then know their own way for next season. My favorite line in the article: “Already, it has come to this on planet Earth: men dressed like birds, teaching birds to fly.” The whole concept is debatable: one on hand, brilliant, on another, a horrific foreshadow transformers-style.
I have been spending time with prairie dogs in Terry Tempest Williams’ new book
I made the mistake of telling a loved one that he was back-woodsy. What back-woodsy means, I’m not sure. But I acted on a pathetic, impulsive, primal urge to express myself. Or at least differentiate myself from something that felt uncomfortable. It seems that when I go to a rural place, I grow antsy about the lack of people, “culture”, and general diversity of experience. When I’m in the city, I’m hugging trees in Central Park and passing judgment on people who have never sought a relationship with nature. “She’s a sour, ungrateful, confused woman!” they might yell from the streets. No. Actually, I LOVE LOVE rural places and the city just lights my mind on fire in almost all the right ways. Why the psychosis? Eventually, like most people, I want to hunker down. With no hometown, I wonder what type of place, where, when? And can I blend the best of both worlds? Instead, I feel like a starfish with limbs being yanked in five different directions. What about you? Have you found a place that matches the pulse of the cells in your body? Or is that asking to much? Is it greedy? When do I admit to myself that I’m on the search for a perfection that doesn’t exist? When do I acknowledge that “the one” place (like “the one” partner) is a state of mind not something incarnate?