Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Off-grid hypocrisy

"Be the change that you wish to see in the world."
- Mahatma Gandhi

I subconsciously swipe on my Iphone and scan the news as I wipe the sleep out of my eyes   I read that we shouldn’t worry too much about the Ebola outbreak that has claimed more than 600 lives in Africa because it would likely be rapidly contained if it were to spread to the US.  Then I see that a country founded “on freedom, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel” has just shelled another United Nation’s school, bringing the total Palestinian death toll to over 1350. 

As I wait for my coffee to boil, I give one last glance at my completed absentee ballot, and then stuff it in its envelope.  Voting for change, but knowing none is possible.   I drink my organic Rainforest Blend coffee which was compiled from so many third world sources that no country of origin is listed on the label.  My thumbs translate thoughts into words as I write a few quick work emails on my phone to the hypnotic sounds of the introduced Asian Shama on my deck.  Other than birds, fowl, and a grumpy nene goose, the only audible distraction is the periodic cycling of my Australian made Davey Torrium pump, maintaining the rainwater in my 300 feet of PVC piping at a blasting 60 PSI. 
 While the wind rippling through my PVC roof is a constant reminder of humanity's impact on the climate (which is the primary reason that I live the way I do.)  Those hundreds of pounds of PVC that make up the backbone of my water system are labeled by Greenpeace as the “single most environmentally damaging of all plastics” and "one of the most toxic substances saturating our planet.”  

After feeding my chickens their daily allotment of organic pelletized corn and soy from the midwest, I harvest my breakfast tax of their newly laid unborn chicks.  And so that our three humane society cats don’t resort to eating our happy chickens, I feed them their “naturally formulated” diet of factory farmed chicken along with 64 other dehydrated ingredients that I can’t pronounce.  

I walk to my small lo’i to pull eight malnourished organic kalo in order to make poi for the week.  On the way back I stumble into my two main organic nutrient sources for the kalo: rock phosphate and fish emulsion.  The phosphate was strip mined from rapidly depleting sources in Florida, China, Morocco, Brazil, Russia, Jordan, and Tunisia while the organic fish emulsion is the fermented fish remains of industrial by-catch (my other choice for an organic nitrogen source is blood meal, made from the ground up bones of cattle from feed lots).  

My taro is currently boiling, using propane sourced from hydraulic fracturing on the east coast, which has been linked to massive methane releases, seismic activity, dislodging radioactive material, and, most commonly, groundwater contamination by the chemicals used in the process.  Before I can make poi, I need to wait for the sun to reach its zenith, so that my 100% solar powered home can handle the power needs of my Vitamixer.  The REC photovoltaic panels (manufactured in Singapore) are producing around 600 watts, which is more than enough to power my Apple Laptop (manufactured by Hon Hai Industries in China) for me to write this mild diatribe.

And it's only 9:45 am. This is what I call off-the-grid

kalo

phosphate processing




Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Hoping for rain

To all six of my faithful readers, sorry for the lack of updates recently.  Since I work through the day and then do yard-work or coach paddling on sunny afternoons, my writing time is traditionally relegated to the bits of time that I am not occupied with those three tasks.  While my work schedule stays consistent, yard work and paddling are seasonal.  And, this is the season for both.  So, I've temporarily stopped writing.

I will share three George Orwell quotes though:

"A happy vicar I might have been
Two hundred years ago,
To Preach upon eternal doom
And watch my walnuts grow"

"Clearly there was only one escape for them-- into stupidity.  They could keep society in its existing shape only by being unable to grasp that any improvement was possible.  Difficult though this was, they achieved it, largely by fixing their eyes on the past and refusing to notice the changes that were going on round them."

"Political language is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind."