This last week has brought tough news from scientists. Although the climate change warning bells have been going off for many years in my memory, it seems we've reached a tipping point as it relates to the Arctic ice melts and carbon cycle changes. It's both frightening and frustrating stuff, and I find myself wanting to yell from my suburban rooftop about it and demand (beg) that everyone, most importantly policymakers, do something. I've never seen myself as a political activist, or been a member of the Sierra Club, but I always have cared deeply about the environment, wildlife, our world and it's future. I certainly don't do everything in line with living "the green life," but I have tried to incorporate actions, both big and small, that I know can make a difference.
In talking with people, and looking at human behavior, it seems the reluctance to face this issue comes down to three primary reasons. The first, is the task can seem overwhelming. A defeatist attitude arises, as it is hard to grasp that anything one does within their four walls at home, can affect and contribute to something so large as greenhouse gases or the rising ocean level. But there are strong statistics out there that support small decisions at home making a big impact. For instance, if every American used one less napkin a day (on average we use six), more than a billion pounds of napkins could be saved from landfills each year. Think about that. And, there are a great number of daily decisions and behaviors that can create positive changes. Other small changes I've made are not getting receipts at the ATM machine or gas pump unless necessary.
Secondly, change is hard. We humans are creatures of habit, good or bad. I've found that I have had to ease into some of these changes, and others I was able to dive right in.
We have replaced all of our appliances, over many years, with energy efficient ones. Living in a home that is 20 years old dictated that there was plenty of room for improvement in that category. I've had great success in changing my shopping habits to include organic fruits and vegetables, and we have both an indoor and outdoor compost bin for recycling kitchen waste. It took some adjustments, but now, it is a way of life. However, where I have "failed," I supposed, is that I do drive an SUV that runs on gas. It definitely has better gas mileage than my last car, and my husband and I try to carpool when possible, but it is one change--moving from gas to electric or hybrid--that has been difficult for me to make. Primarily, due to financial reasons, which leads me to the last point.
Policymakers, leadership, manufacturers and suppliers follow the money trail. Successful change often comes from market transformations starting at a grass roots level, rather than enacting change from the top. I like the idea of power in the people, and examples of that are the popularity of farmers markets whereby communities are buying local, organic produce for their families. And look at the gluten-free products lining the grocery aisles now. Once a large enough group of consumers support it, and profits arise, change begins to happen.
I'm not naive to think that this is just an American issue. I know it is a global issue and there are complex, big agenda items that need to occur. But, if I can be part of the solution, by taking whatever small steps I can in what I do have control of, then I think it's worth every minute, dollar and effort spent. So let's inspire one another to do more. Plant a lavender bush in your yard for the bees, take your own reusable canvas bags to the store, hand the Starbucks barista your travel mug from home for your morning coffee. Small things with big impacts.
Want to know some simple things to get started? Read through this quick 50 Ways to Help.
http://www.50waystohelp.com
Let's enact change within our lives and communities and teach our children the value of this amazing planet and life.
Monday, May 26, 2014
Saturday, May 10, 2014
A Mother's Life
As a mom of two grown girls and two stepchildren myself, I have often drawn on wisdom from other mothers around me, and more often than not, coupled that with pure gut instinct. I've made mistakes along the way, wish I could have had some "do-overs," but overall am both proud and mystified as to how well the kids have turned out and of the caring people they've become. At the young age of twenty, holding my first daughter in my arms and looking into her brown eyes for the first time, I knew I was changed forever. There was never a doubt of what I was put on this earth to do, or on what my future decisions would be centered. And when her sister arrived a mere 13 months later, that sense of responsibility and commitment didn't simply double, it was exponential.
So, although I'm thankful for the idea behind Mother's Day, I've realized for myself that it is a Mother's Life. It's in the fabric of who I am, as both a daughter and a mother. And for those who have lost their mothers, the thoughts and respect to their moms far outreach the boundaries of a single day also. Whatever the circumstance you find yourself in, as a mom, child, grandmother, grandchild, I hope you can take a quiet moment daily to be inspired and thankful to your moms for the life you've been given. That you are here, living your life to the fullest, and caring for those around you is the best reverence one can give. I know how very thankful I am for mine.
I love you Mom.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Lessons in the Dirt
For any of you who, as I see it, are blessed to live in beautiful Northern California, it felt almost criminal to take in the weather experienced this last weekend. The late February gift was a gentle moment when winter was caught kissing spring, and it drew neighbors and families outdoors to play and explore. It also moved people, such as myself, to immediately wander around my yard and start digging in the dirt.
I have had the true love of gardening in my heart since I was a child. I have vivid memories of following my Grandpa around his three Nevada City hillside gardens, as he checked the plants, vegetables, and the tall, border fencing erected to deter the deer. We would wander each row, me and my younger sister closely on his heels, while he pointed out the fuzzy string beans and the lettuce, swiss chard and carrots. It was a task that, if I remember, we repeated two or three times a day during our summer stays with my grandparents. The pay-off of all of this toiling and such was when my grandma would send us out, this time with bowls and bags in hand, to collect something for dinner. The childhood pleasure of picking our own food, skipping down the path to the back porch and washing our harvest in the outdoor sink, has stayed with me after all these years.
Gardening has been, and continues to be, an important part of my life. I'm not a master gardener or an expert by any means, but it has become more than a hobby to me in a few inspiring ways.
One was my part in establishing (with the help of many other volunteers) an education program at my daughters' elementary school years ago. It is titled the "Garden of Learning" program and was built with the idea in mind that lessons learned in the classroom could be illustrated and coupled with lessons outdoors in the garden. The kids are able to apply their math and science skills through measuring, calculating, building and plant experiments. Their social studies and history skills come into play with learning about the Native American uses for plants in treatment of disease and health. Art is also brought into the garden by children encouraged to draw, paint, or write about what they see, hear, and feel while spending time there. And, at the end of the successful school year, after many days of hard work among students, parents and teacher volunteers, the school holds its own farmers market selling vegetables and plants to help pay for the next year's program. It was and has been a wonderful tool to teach children and bring the school community together.
Recently, I've heard about another program that is having extraordinary, positive results in South Central Los Angeles. It is run by Ron Finley, who coins himself as a guerrilla gardener. He and his team of volunteers plant vegetable gardens on vacant city lots, or in small border areas that would otherwise be considered blight. The encouraging results of his efforts in addition to beautifying otherwise unseemly neighborhoods, is that these areas and communities now have access to fresh, healthy food, and teach children positive lessons in working together, growing one's own food, and nutrition. Lifelong lessons that all of us can carry one bushel at a time.
So now, as springtime approaches, and the sun shines a bit longer and life once again blossoms all around us, I encourage you to go dig in the dirt. Plant something, tend to it, share your experience, and watch it grow. It's an amazing process that brings nothing but positive change, satisfaction and a whole bunch of wellness.
For more on Ron Finley and his program, you can read more at ronfinley.com
I have had the true love of gardening in my heart since I was a child. I have vivid memories of following my Grandpa around his three Nevada City hillside gardens, as he checked the plants, vegetables, and the tall, border fencing erected to deter the deer. We would wander each row, me and my younger sister closely on his heels, while he pointed out the fuzzy string beans and the lettuce, swiss chard and carrots. It was a task that, if I remember, we repeated two or three times a day during our summer stays with my grandparents. The pay-off of all of this toiling and such was when my grandma would send us out, this time with bowls and bags in hand, to collect something for dinner. The childhood pleasure of picking our own food, skipping down the path to the back porch and washing our harvest in the outdoor sink, has stayed with me after all these years. Gardening has been, and continues to be, an important part of my life. I'm not a master gardener or an expert by any means, but it has become more than a hobby to me in a few inspiring ways.
One was my part in establishing (with the help of many other volunteers) an education program at my daughters' elementary school years ago. It is titled the "Garden of Learning" program and was built with the idea in mind that lessons learned in the classroom could be illustrated and coupled with lessons outdoors in the garden. The kids are able to apply their math and science skills through measuring, calculating, building and plant experiments. Their social studies and history skills come into play with learning about the Native American uses for plants in treatment of disease and health. Art is also brought into the garden by children encouraged to draw, paint, or write about what they see, hear, and feel while spending time there. And, at the end of the successful school year, after many days of hard work among students, parents and teacher volunteers, the school holds its own farmers market selling vegetables and plants to help pay for the next year's program. It was and has been a wonderful tool to teach children and bring the school community together.
Recently, I've heard about another program that is having extraordinary, positive results in South Central Los Angeles. It is run by Ron Finley, who coins himself as a guerrilla gardener. He and his team of volunteers plant vegetable gardens on vacant city lots, or in small border areas that would otherwise be considered blight. The encouraging results of his efforts in addition to beautifying otherwise unseemly neighborhoods, is that these areas and communities now have access to fresh, healthy food, and teach children positive lessons in working together, growing one's own food, and nutrition. Lifelong lessons that all of us can carry one bushel at a time.
So now, as springtime approaches, and the sun shines a bit longer and life once again blossoms all around us, I encourage you to go dig in the dirt. Plant something, tend to it, share your experience, and watch it grow. It's an amazing process that brings nothing but positive change, satisfaction and a whole bunch of wellness.
For more on Ron Finley and his program, you can read more at ronfinley.com
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
A Kind Word
It has been a difficult few weeks for our family, which is why I've been lagging in publishing any new blog posts. A worrisome health issue with my Mother-in-law requiring hospitalization and surgery, the sudden sickness and loss of our sweet cocker spaniel, Dusty, of 14 years, and my own bout of a quick virus somewhere in between has been emotionally draining to say the least. Where writing typically serves as an outlet, I found myself tired and sad--not the best voice for an inspiration blog. But now, with all of the most recent urgencies behind us, and experiencing some moments of calm, I've been asking myself and others about what inspires us and uplifts us when we, the usual optimistic and positive, are not. It doesn't take much to review the last few weeks to find the simple answer. It is nothing more than a kind word.
In both the deepest of sorrows or perhaps merely an "off" day, a phone call, a surprise handwritten note discovered in the mailbox or an early morning text with heartfelt emoticons can do wonders for one's spirits. A hug, dinner with friends, and flowers accompanied by a sweet note delivered on my doorstep all were reminders about how powerful words can be. These are the small things that were big things in my life this last month. Kind words have kept me moving forward, put a smile on my face, and have reminded me that even in the low and hard times in our life, there is so much good that surrounds us each day. From the lips of a friend, a keyboard to one's computer screen, the pen in one's hand, a kind word can go far in healing one's wounds. And by sharing with one another, perhaps through a simple blog and kind words, I hope we can help serve to mend and inspire others as well.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Lynn
One objective of starting Together We Inspire was to post stories of people who have made an impact on our lives, or have left such an impression, that we are compelled to share. Although I've been blessed to have a long list of those who have positively impacted me in some way, it was a most recent exchange that I find myself blogging about today.
As so often occurs in our alley-way, behind our midtown office, drifters and those who would be considered homeless find their way to our parking lot and back-building space. It is known as a coveted piece of property due to its location and sparse protection from the elements for overnight stays. As business owners, we have found it difficult over the years balancing the empathy we feel for the unfortunate in this position with the concern for the safety and care of our employees, clients and property. Most people we have encountered are there for a night or two and then move on, leaving various items and remnants behind.
A broom is what was left behind by Lynn. I know her name after our late evening talk on a cold, clear night. She was wrapped in layers of worn blankets and weathered coats. I had just brought her an offering of herbal tea and three shortbread cookies from our holiday tin. We were experiencing freezing temperatures in fact, and I couldn't imagine as I gathered my laptop and handbag to head home, the exercise of bedding down for the night on a cement slab surrounded by every belonging I owned. But there she was, thanking me profusely for the warm beverage and apologizing for the inconvenience she may have caused over the last two weeks of her stay.
I don't know for certain what drew me to her that night, but the thought of being a woman, alone on the streets, at night, motivated me to know more. From our brief conversation, I learned she was fifty-five years old, had lost her husband a few years prior, and had heart issues of her own. And, although she received social security checks, she had been evicted from her rental recently due to a few mistakes on her part and coming up financially short each month. She was honest, matter-of-fact, and reminded me bluntly how fragile things can be.
Lynn also shared that she had owned her own business at one time, has four grandchildren, and was overwhelmingly grateful for all we had done, which was nothing more than letting her stay at night and providing hot coffees and a resource list.
Since that night, I have yet to see Lynn again. All that remains is a lonely broom, one that she used each evening to clear away the leaves and debris to make her bed, and to sweep away any evidence of her being there each morning. I'm hopeful she found a warm place to stay, that her pending application for housing was approved, and that she reunited with friends and family.
Her determination, strength and resolve was nothing short of inspiring, but it was her graciousness and thankfulness under the most dire of circumstances that will stay with me. For so many times we find ourselves in situations or life events that can be overwhelming or disheartening, but Lynn and all that she represented can serve as a dose of encouragement and grace we all need to keep on hand and move on.
As so often occurs in our alley-way, behind our midtown office, drifters and those who would be considered homeless find their way to our parking lot and back-building space. It is known as a coveted piece of property due to its location and sparse protection from the elements for overnight stays. As business owners, we have found it difficult over the years balancing the empathy we feel for the unfortunate in this position with the concern for the safety and care of our employees, clients and property. Most people we have encountered are there for a night or two and then move on, leaving various items and remnants behind.
A broom is what was left behind by Lynn. I know her name after our late evening talk on a cold, clear night. She was wrapped in layers of worn blankets and weathered coats. I had just brought her an offering of herbal tea and three shortbread cookies from our holiday tin. We were experiencing freezing temperatures in fact, and I couldn't imagine as I gathered my laptop and handbag to head home, the exercise of bedding down for the night on a cement slab surrounded by every belonging I owned. But there she was, thanking me profusely for the warm beverage and apologizing for the inconvenience she may have caused over the last two weeks of her stay.
I don't know for certain what drew me to her that night, but the thought of being a woman, alone on the streets, at night, motivated me to know more. From our brief conversation, I learned she was fifty-five years old, had lost her husband a few years prior, and had heart issues of her own. And, although she received social security checks, she had been evicted from her rental recently due to a few mistakes on her part and coming up financially short each month. She was honest, matter-of-fact, and reminded me bluntly how fragile things can be.
Lynn also shared that she had owned her own business at one time, has four grandchildren, and was overwhelmingly grateful for all we had done, which was nothing more than letting her stay at night and providing hot coffees and a resource list.
Since that night, I have yet to see Lynn again. All that remains is a lonely broom, one that she used each evening to clear away the leaves and debris to make her bed, and to sweep away any evidence of her being there each morning. I'm hopeful she found a warm place to stay, that her pending application for housing was approved, and that she reunited with friends and family.
Her determination, strength and resolve was nothing short of inspiring, but it was her graciousness and thankfulness under the most dire of circumstances that will stay with me. For so many times we find ourselves in situations or life events that can be overwhelming or disheartening, but Lynn and all that she represented can serve as a dose of encouragement and grace we all need to keep on hand and move on.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Art in the City
Having just returned from an amazing whirlwind trip to the Big Apple, the electric city that holds so many wonders, I've been overflowing with far more ideas than can be stuffed in the suitcase of my mind.
Sharing a rare and special extended weekend with my two adult daughters and my mom, we were fortunate enough to experience a small sampling of the art one can find in New York City. First, was a Broadway play "No Man's Land" masterfully performed by Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellen, followed by a trip to the Modern Museum of Art where we strolled among the works of Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet and Warhol. And, all throughout our Manhattan ventures, we found ourselves somewhere amid the spectrum of Times Square electronic boards and the intricate architecture of the 1800's.
But, the hustle and bustle of the City also served as a backplate of calm as we took time to reveal with one another life as it was being played out on our own personal stages. The simple essence of eating and laughing our way through the sky-lined streets was the true reason one takes trips like this. I believe that taking the time to stop, reflect and experience something new on any scale with those close to you can enhance and enrich you as much as any painting or photograph.
Art is discovered in all of our lives through relationships, characters, complexities and simplicities. It doesn't matter where you find yourself sharing memories or contemplating new ideas, it just matters that you take time to do it. Because whether you find yourself in Central Park or your city park, at a Broadway theater or a high school musical, it is truly the art of spending time with family or close friends in these creative environments that can move and inspire one most of all.
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Doing It Yourself
Along with the recent holiday season, there was an unfortunate discovery that we had also been gifted a leaking toilet. After some investigative work on the part of my husband, Bob, it seemed there had been some water damage to the upstairs bathroom floor. To what extent was yet to be revealed, but it was clear something had to be done quickly.
Because of the holiday hangover happening in our bank account, and being the resourceful, "can-do" people that we are, my husband and I agreed that this was a job we could tackle together. We had survived and mastered home improvement projects in the past, so surely with the weekend and extra day we had off for New Years Day, we could do this.
My primary advice after this most recent experience? Once you've projected the hours required to finish the job--double it. Planned trips to the home improvement/hardware store--double it. Estimated costs--double it.
But don't let these observations deter you from the HGTV project of your dreams. There are so many tools and resources available to assist you with any project you wish. From free in-store classes, YouTube tutorials, and expert advice from neighbors and friends, there is no shortage of moral support. Just understand going in, like so many worthwhile things in life, that nothing will be easy. Your body will ache from the lifting, kneeling, stretching and hammering (insert other active verbs here). Problem-solving, communication skills and, yes, 7th grade math will undoubtedly also come into play.
So, if you can ride out the seesaw of the emotions that will rise and fall with the setbacks and successes of any project, know that you can bask in the afterglow of your handy-person accomplishments. It is an active way to learn something new and bond with your partner, friend, spouse or yourself.
The results of home improvement, self-improvement, happiness and satisfaction once the job is complete? Double it.
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