I Must Have Hit a Nerve!

*Laughing.* Over on the GreenPeace forum, I had Ms. MaryPoppins-mod, a clappy-handies, oh-isn’t-it-wonderful-see-what-we’re-doing-to-make-the-world-green neophyte, read me a new waste portal via the reputation comments (unanswerable, by the way, so there’s no chance for dialogue) and all because I dared point out some truths, and to counter with facts from my own lifestyle a snot-sayer I’ll call NeverRight who consistently has cursed me, called me everything but cunt, and who has never been reined in for castigating me.   Funny.  She called me “counter-productive,” amongst other more pointedly venomous things, blaming the tone of the forum on “youth.”  Um…no.  Not youth.  Some youth, but also some adult, some middle-aged, and some aged seem to be the demographics.  This is all very interesting on a forum which is supposed to be “green,” run by one of the biggest, most “in the news” green organizations on the planet.  This GreenPeace International forum called Louder Than Words, however, is anything BUT green.  You can’t be green if only half of your active participants are colored that way and the other half are pro-whaling, pro-sealing, pro-development, anti-preservation, and doubt climate change. 

So why am I laughing?

Because here we have people all arguing over whether the house is actually burning, and, even if it is, is this a bad thing while the house turns to ashes and its inhabitants die…all on a GREENPEACE forum!

Clap on, MaryPoppins and the rest of you, clap on.  Hope you like turning into burnt marshmallows with the rest of the biosphere.  Meanwhile, watch those damaged nerves.   The pain you feel just might open up your minds.

ADD/EDIT: Got this from a friend over there a bit ago after I posted this: “The moderators really only want `fluffy bunny don`t rock the boat types`.”

Well, that’s NOT me.  And, as far as I’ve seen, it ISN’T GreenPeace, either.  Guess the mods must be employed by Chevron.

The Power to Help.

I have two ants safely harbored in a peanut butter jar, a piece of screen keeping them inside.  They came here inside my husband’s lunchbox from the construction site.  Of course, they didn’t come on purpose.  They weren’t particularly interested in visiting places far, far away.  They were after goodies and got hijacked by the lid being closed and zippered shut.  So home they came…surviving what had to be a very dangerous and uncomfortable trip, jostled between empty lunch containers, locked inside a plastic and nylon environment in 100 degree heat. 

So hubs opens lunch box to dump his containers into the sink and does the old, “Ants! Oh, great.”

Now, I have a “thing” about ants.  It’s the one creature…en masse…which will send me screaming off in a frothing panic. (I was bitten by red ants when I was a child and have never quite recovered from the experience.)  But I also have a “thing” about life and its being precious.  I have a “thing” which demands me respect all life…and non-life.  And, me, a human, has the power to help.  And that’s what it comes down to, doesn’t it?  If I have the power to help, doesn’t that obligate me to help where I can, when I can?  I think so.  Caring matters.  If one doesn’t care, if things don’t matter, what’s the point?

So back to the story.

So, lid open, one of the two ants trapped inside started perambulating around in a bit of a frenzy.  One got outside the box and disappeared.  The other was just doing laps inside. 

I see all manner of containers, but everything is plastic or styrofoam — death to insects put inside because they are saturated with things like pesticides or made using formaldehyde. (Nice to think that our food comes in these things, right?) Quickly, I grab the clean, empty, glass peanut butter jar, wondering where the “outside” ant went off to, and how I would be able to find her to get her safely inside the jar for the return trip home tomorrow.  Ah!  There she is!  I manage to get her to walk inside the jar.  Now for the other one.  She’s not so easy, but, with the help of a piece of paper towel, she’s induced to take a ride inside safety.

Screen lid anchored in place, and they are ready to roll, no longer “lost ants,” but simply on an adventure and ready for the return trip home.

I used my power to help. 


Yes, they made it safely back to their ant homes.  Hubs was very conscientious about getting them back to exactly where he ate lunch the day before.  And he watched them as they made tracks out of the jar and onto “familiar ground.”  They immediately ran into more ants, did the “feeler thing,” as he called it, then made tracks, following other ants headed to a “known ant home.” 

I really like the construction crew.  They are very conscientious.  All of them.  And that’s as it should be since the two owners, Hubs and partner, are both eco-minded.  If the crew wasn’t, I guess they wouldn’t be crew very long, right?

Oh, and, I failed to mention, I put a bit of water on aforementioned paper towel the morning of transport back home, and both ants made quite an elaborate show of drinking.  Those were some thirsty ants.  They must have snacked on some of hubby’s favorite Triscuits! 

Had a good class today.

Taught a Kung Fu class today with Forrest.  The students did well.  We molded clay.  We pointed to the moon, and they saw where the finger pointed. 

They have the will; they have the fortitude.  It’s the kindling of spirit and the binding of will and intent that remains elusive.  Chi they can feel…sometimes.  But they fail to be able to direct it or to allow it to move them…yet.  It will happen.  In time.  Given time. 

One step.  Then another.  And one more.  Each one well placed.  Soon the top of the mountain is seen.  Later or sooner.  Sooner I can hope, but place no vested interest either way.  It is enough to walk.

We had a good lesson today.

No Power…and Suddenly Everyone….

Out of the blue…quite literally…sunshine and clear skies turned swiftly and suddenly to broiling storm.  The squall line was a visible chaos, and the wind hit in gusts that were stronger than ones I remember ever experiencing during North Idaho’s summer season. 

Trees bent double — big trees.  Branches snapped.  But, around me, anyway, the giants — some of them over a century old, stayed rooted and whole.  Not so lucky the ones used forest surrounding them stood as solitary lone remnants of woods that had been.  Lacking the protective buffering that trees in a group provide for one anther, they went down.  And they took the power with them.

For four and a half hours, no-one in North Idaho had power.  (Some on Pack River still don’t, I understand.)  Street lights were off, the hospital and banks’ emergency generators kicked in, and we all waited…until well after dark.

My mother lives outside of town.  She’s 84 years young and spry as a teen.  Feisty too.  But she lives in forest — big trees.  I went out to check on her since she wasn’t answering her phone.  To do that, I had to negotiate town, and Sandpoint is NOTORIOUS for asshole drivers.

To my amazement, everyone, and I mean even the teenage, testosterone-driven, souped up 4×4 truck-driving ones, were courteous and polite, each waiting their turn, and even letting others go first when it was clearly their turn at the intersection with its dusty, faded, very cobbled together four-way stop signs nailed to barrels.  (Somebody was quick thinking make them and to set them out that fast — congrats all you public works employees.)

Not only that, but no traffic snarls.  Traffic ran smoothly, without long delays.  Wonderful for a town and county infamous for GRID LOCK.

It just goes to show, when things get nasty, people get nice. Thank you, everyone.  Now, that’s American!