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  • This is not a book review: Some thoughts on Sun House

    This is not a book review: Some thoughts on Sun House

    This past winter, I read Sun House, by David James Duncan. It was the best book I’ve read in a really long time, yet I’ve been reluctant to recommend it. At 764 pages and telling many interwoven stories spanning six decades, it requires a big commitment. It’s not for everyone: Duncan’s style, language, and world view is intense and unusual; reviews have been mixed. A few months after finishing the book, I read it again, and decided it’s worth the risk. So I started suggesting to friends and family that they read it. I even bought extra copies to lend out. This is a book that is helping me to imagine a different way of living at this moment in America and on Earth. Seeing a different way feels like a lifeline. 

    Sun House starts with the stories of three unconnected people and a pair of twin brothers in Oregon, Colorado, and Washington. It follows each of them through various formative experiences, joys, tragedies, and spiritual journeys until eventually they cross paths, connect with other kindred spirits, and form a community in rural Montana. 

    This is not a book review. I’m not going to try to summarize the plot, or explain what characters or story lines I found most compelling. I’m not even going to explore the big themes or messages of the book. What I will say is that Sun House is an attempt to create a new mythology for our times. If, like me, you feel trapped in a civilization that seems headed for collapse once it destroys most of the living beings, natural beauty, and life support systems on Earth, and you don’t see another way, this book might be for you too. 

    For at least 20 years, I’ve felt that I’m part of a political and economic system that is destroying the biosphere that provides us with everything we need, love, and depend on. I’ve taken many small steps to try to do less damage, yet none of them have felt adequate. As the climate continues to destabilize, and those in power slither towards fascism and kleptocracy, this feeling has deepened into heartbreak and dread. 

    Yet opting out of the system, finding an alternative, has seemed impossible to imagine, futile, costly and detrimental to my well-being. It’s felt futile because me opting out didn’t seem like it would make any discernable difference, and personally costly because I’d have to give up the comforts of modern life, and live cut off from much of what brings me ease, safety, and straightforward access to necessities, pleasures, and those I love who are far away.

    Sun House creates an alternative that feels meaningful and perhaps even possible. Here’s what I took from the story: As our politics, economic system, and extreme wealth and power inequality continue to destroy life and climate stability, small bands of people can start and build communities and modes making a living that will serve as lifeboats: protected reserves of living things, skills, information, cooperative systems, love of nature, integrity, and sacred knowledge. As end-stage capitalism destroys huge swaths of life on earth, these lifeboat communities might provide shelter to preserve enough life, beauty, skills, and knowledge to restore life and beauty and reinhabit earth after industrial civilization has fallen and the great cycle of destruction we’re in has run it’s course.

    Duncan’s tale is an attempt to show how such a lifeboat might be born and develop in the midst of our human-shattered world. And for me, his fable succeeds. 

    There’s just one more thing I want to say about why I loved this book. In Duncan’s tale, there are no litmus tests for entry into the community, except to value and revere other living creatures.  People there still use cars and machinery and run businesses—although with a focus on reducing consumption and waste. Some live lives that include frequent flying or driving, and some eat meat. I could write a whole separate essay on why this lack of purity testing is so important to me, but I won’t. I’ll just say that anyone who has been working for environmental progress and climate action for any amount of time knows that our different approaches have often prevented us from uniting enough to fully work together. 

    Sun House took me on a journey that fully enveloped me, as only the best books can do. It took several hundred pages to get into, and I found it somewhat uneven going. There were some sections of the book I didn’t even like. Yet this book allowed me to start imagining new possibilities for building lifeboats. I now see the seeds of these lifeboats in people and places I didn’t see before. I am now seeking out ways to contribute to a lifeboat in my community. Sun House did this for me. Maybe it won’t do that for you. But on the chance that it might, I suggest you give it a try.

  • How to prepare for the unknown

    How to prepare for the unknown

    We humans are notoriously bad at predicting the future. I personally was blindsided by all three of the life-threatening crises we faced in 2020 in western Oregon – a global pandemic, a deadly heat dome, and an air quality crisis from wildfires that made it unsafe to go outdoors or even open the windows. Disaster preparedness in our region, such as it is, has been focused on preparations for a major earthquake.  And certainly, given the seismic history of the Pacific Northwest, there could be a catastrophic earthquake here anytime. But the next disaster might also be something no one is thinking much about.

    As the climate destabilizes along with America’s political and social fabric, I’ve been wondering if it’s possible to prepare for events you never saw coming.

    Maybe, maybe not. I really have no idea. But here is what I do know: Taking actions to increase our household’s disaster preparedness and resilience feels worthwhile and empowering. So I’ve developed a kind of three way test to decide what steps to take. 

    1. Does the action have benefits in some imaginable crisis situation? 
    2. Does the action have other benefits that I can feel or see in my daily life?
    3. Is the action relatively easy and affordable?

    Here are some of the actions I’ve taken because the answer was yes to all three questions. I put together a go bag.  I put a box in the back of my car with several bottles of water, an emergency blanket, a map, a large garbage bag, and a few snacks. We now keep one of our vehicles fully fueled up and ready should we need to leave quickly. I bought a radio that can be recharged with a solar battery or by winding a crank.  I made a list of things to grab in case of an evacuation and put it on my bulletin board.  I started maintaining a non-perishable food supply in our garage that includes about a week’s worth of water and gas for our camping stove. We also put together an earthquake kit in a big duffel bag.

    There are other things I’m giving extra attention to as I focus more on resilience. These include gardening for food and pollinators, connecting more with our neighbors, shopping more at the farmers’ markets, and seeking other ways to build and support a vibrant local food system. I signed up for emergency text alerts from the city and county. We have a fully electrified home, so I was able to get the gas line to our house shut off permanently.

    I’ve also been thinking about ways to connect with other people nearby who want to build local resilience and share ideas and support. I haven’t found a local resilience group yet, so it’s possible I’ll need to try to start one. That’s a topic for another day!

  • How to build a go-bag

    How to build a go-bag

    There is a scene from the rom-com “Leap Year,” in which Amy Adams is standing in her beautiful apartment in the midst of throwing a party when the fire alarm goes off. She stands there frozen, having absolutely no idea what to grab on her way out the door. Although the message in the movie is that she isn’t living the life she craves, for me that scene has always brought up something else— fear. More specifically, the fear that if I ever need to evacuate, I will be unable to make quick decisions that will allow me to gather the items that are most vital and precious. Several weeks ago, unimaginably destructive wildfires leveled entire Los Angeles neighborhoods, reminding me of how profoundly unpredictable living in our era has become. So I’ve been diving into learning about emergency preparedness and putting together a go bag.

    Two things I notice almost immediately. First, there are a lot of useful resources out there; I’ve explored advice from the Red Cross, FEMA’s Ready.gov, Habitat for Humanity, and the Benton County Sheriff’s Office, among others. I have a list called “The 6 P’s of evacuation” and one that has advice on items to take in an evacuation if you have 15 minutes, 30 minutes, 1 hour, or 2 hours to get out. The Red Cross sells ready-made emergency kits for your car and your home, first aid kits, and more.

    The second thing I notice is how weirdly enjoyable I find learning how to prepare for an evacuation or other emergency is.  Addressing my fears head on feels good.  Although I know that our weather disasters are no longer predictable based on historical precedent, it’s immediately clear to me that there are things I can do to improve our family’s chances of staying safe in emergencies. This is empowering; I find that once I get started, I want to keep going.

    I start with an extra backpack I have lying around, and an old brochure from the Benton County Sheriff’s office for an emergency vehicle kit. Because it’s winter and it’s been so cold, I pack a warm layer of clothes, gloves, and an emergency blanket. I add water purification tablets, energy bars, a flashlight and headlamp, matches, and a four days worth of necessary meds. Then I get hand sanitizer, paracord, several respirator masks and a couple of heavy duty garbage bags.

    There are things I need to add, so I make a list: a swiss army knife, a liter of water, an extra charger battery for phones, paper maps, and a basic first aid kit. I make a list of emergency contacts, bank account numbers, copies of my passport and driver’s license, and add some cash.

    I decide on one last step for my go bag. To address the fear that movie scene brings up, I make a list of what to grab in the event of an evacuation where I have a few minutes to spare. I put a copy in my go bag and one on my bulletin board.

    Here’s my list:

    Keys, purse, checkbook and passport
    Extra meds, glasses, water, and food
    Laptop and charger
    Cell phone and charger
    Dog food, toys, leash, etc.
    Bag of favorite clothes
    Favorite photos
    Important medical and financial records
    Safety deposit box keys

    This feels like a good start.

    Next, I’ll start working on emergency supplies at home in case we need to shelter in place. I’ll write about that in an upcoming post.

  • Introducing Lifeboating! A new blog about local resilience

    Introducing Lifeboating! A new blog about local resilience

    What if we imagine that our political, economic, food, energy, and governance systems are destabilizing along with our global climate? What might a life-affirming and hopeful response look like? How might we begin to find a new path in our communities?

    This is the question I’ve been obsessed with lately, and what I want to write about here. But let me start with a disclaimer: First, the future is unknowable. As obvious as this sounds, it took me many years of placing too much stock in predictions, models, and assessments made by experts before I fully took this to heart. Still, I’ve loved biology since I was 14, and I’ve been doing climate work in some form for the past 20 years. If experience leads to insight, I may have something useful to say 😊.

    I’m starting up this blog to share my thoughts about how I see our current situation, and the work that is calling to me going forward. I plan to explore ways to build and strengthen local resilience and to live with more integrity in our destabilizing world. This includes shifting toward a life supported by clean energy, rebuilding local food systems, exploring disaster preparedness, waste reduction, and much more. I will also be looking for ways to do effective climate work at the local level. In his new novel Sun House, David James Duncan refers to this as lifeboat work, and I am drawn to the image of community lifeboats to help us weather an uncertain future.

    I don’t see a pathway for avoiding truly major climate harms in the coming decades. Protecting and strengthening life support systems on scales within our communities feels like the most useful, constructive and life affirming work I can do right now. At the same time, the clean energy transition has begun, and the faster it proceeds, the more chances we’ll have to protect what we need and love on earth. So local resilience and local climate solutions are what I’ll be writing about here. I hope you’ll come along with me on this exploration. If you have ideas, feedback, or questions, I’d love to hear from you!