Reduce. Reuse. Recycle.
Seems like a simple concept, doesn’t it? Scratch below the surface, though, and you’ll discover that it isn’t. Many of us live in households where recycling has become habit, if only to a small degree. Reducing and reusing, however, aren’t as automatic. They task us with more than just tossing cans and bottles into buckets and getting them to the curb once a week. Both need true critical thought and an awareness that stretches far beyond the individual: If I do x, what consequences will the rest of the world suffer because of me? We’re not accustomed to considering the domino effect of our own existence.
In the mid-90s I found myself swept into the technology race and for four years I couldn’t live without the latest and greatest RAM, video card, or processor. At the expense of about $3,000 a year, that coolie-wazoo computer habit had me teetering on the precipice between using my credit cards for emergencies only and drowning myself in debt. By the end of the decade, I was examining more closely the destructiveness of my thinking. No doubt my wallet suffered for the unchecked spending, but the ease with which I’d abandoned any environmental consideration troubled me even deeper. That was all it took to stop trying to keep up with the ever-changing technology game.
After combining households with Jon in 2003, our geeking budget developed into a system which leapfrogs one of us into a new computer roughly every four or five years. A slow-growing resistance to invasive DRM in software, namely PC games, has curbed the need for better and faster processing, at least for me. Add to that a stubborn refusal to upgrade from XP to further support Microsoft’s “More Money for Less Quality” mentality and my need for speed plunges rapidly. (Note, however, that I’ve yet to fully embrace life without Windows or World of Warcraft.)
My desire to live green is innate, and has always been, but transforming thought into action proves again and again that wanting is not synonymous with executing. Ignorance has a hand in it; I get impatient with what I don’t know. However, there’s also insecurity and sheer willfulness. I don’t like making drastic changes to my lifestyle. Circumstance has forced me to rebuild my entire life three times, each time from almost nothing, and so I associate reduction with crisis and instability. I’m reluctant to surrender things that make me feel normal and safe. Like TV. Faster computers. Even the mere thought of being without my little toy truck gives me hives.
The initiative to wean myself off of STUFF remained a sluggish endeavor until mid-2006. Internally, I couldn’t comfortably reconcile the reduce == without paradigm. So I negotiated and compromised instead, not recognizing that combined, the two were actually an effective process. With small steps, “Reduce. Reuse. Recycle.” evolved from a mantra I repeated often into a pattern of living that begins to make sense. Recycling is no doubt crucial, but reduction is by far the most essential step. Which is probably why whomever created this little motto put it first. And so the sardonic voice inside my skull says,”gosh, ya think?!”
Here’s a list of the changes we’ve made:
- Replaced incandescent bulbs with fluorescent.
- Replaced plastic shopping bags with reusable cloth bags. (Caution: it’s easy to get lazy and forget!)
- Replaced paper napkins with cloth.
- Switched to paper towels with recycled content, and then reduced our use of them. (At the end of 2007, we’d consumed less than a single roll.)
- Replaced paper cupcake wrappers with silicone ones. (Be patient; it’s not impossible to adapt to them.)
- Replaced coffee filters with a wire mesh basket.
- Burn ass, not gas. (Jon rides his bike and I walk when it’s feasible. It reduces the butt, limits the consumption of petroleum, and is healthier for all.)
- Wash full loads, whether dishes or laundry.
- Line dry more clothing.
- Replaced cleaning equipment which requires disposable products. (Nothing wrong with good, old-fashioned mops, toilet brushes, etc. Yes, disposable dust and sweeper cloths are lovely inventions, but were designed to keep us spending!)
- And last, we gradually replace our Crap-for-Cheap with quality, well-crafted items. (The man spoils me, yes, but he’s also taught me the value of investing my money in better equipment.)
So, not giant leaps into greener living, but we’re taking steps in the right direction. For the coming year, I’ve set the goal to devote more energy to composting and to transforming both, front and back yards, into edible landscaping. At the moment, I know barely enough to keep a handful of vegetable plants alive, but I learn a little more each time I try. This fall, I started looking to others to learn how to work smarter. It’s inspiring when frugality advocates the return to simplicity and the natural beauty in all living things. Sometimes, in the onslaught of commercial life, it’s good to be reminded that there is earth, and sea, and sky, and — should we continue being so reckless with them — they may not last much longer.