The Intestines of the Earth

Aristotle called worms, "the intestines of the earth." The squeamish may not appreciate it, but I received one pound (about 1,000 of 'em) of red wigglers from my wife for Christmas. Anyhow, these guys are top of the line in the worm composting world, and they have a nice home in my basement with a nice steady supply of kitchen waste to chow down on. So now I'm officially a worm rancher and a trafficker in worm excrement (aka castings, or vermicompost). Aren't you jealous!!!

I'll provide a more thorough update later, but I've been too busy getting to know my new friends and building them a home to be proud of. I always spoil my pets.

Y'all have a happy New Year.

**Ching** and bling bling

So it turns out I might need a root canal or some such nonsense for one of my precious, meticulously maintained, beloved teeth. My ear is even sore because of it. Jeepers creepers, I'm sure looking forward to what the tooth man has to say. Just tryin' to stretch it out to next year for insurance reasons. Uphta this puts me in a foul mood, but it sure was nice to see some real comments after my last post. Sort of puts the Christmas cheer back into my rather bulbous head, cool heart, and helps my poor discouraged tooth to accept the encouragement from the happier, better advantaged teeth on the other side of my cavernous mouth with their blinding white facades who have always looked on in leisure while the ones in this neighborhood trudge through the daily chores.

So anyway, I'd love your opinions about Sam's Club. I guess you could even rant about Walmart if you wanted to. We're up for our renewal, which would cost us $40 for the privilege to wander through their characterless warehouse dropping $100 bills as we go. Suffice to say I'm not so excited about the place, but my lovely wife seems to enjoy it. We only go once every couple of months, but I'd rather spend that time having quality time with the family rather than devoting an entire valuable afternoon with the rest of the consumer herd pushing massive carts around chock full of stuff. What are your thoughts? You can come at it from any angle you want ($ savings, time wasted driving to distant big box, workers' rights, the effect on local businesses, other various positive things,...), and I'll respond. I don't want to prejudice your opinions just yet, but the thing that chaps my hide the most is that after spending all that money you don't have any bags or anything to put all your stuff into. So you scrounge for whatever random oddly shaped boxes that used to house chicken livers,..., that may or may not be available. It's like shopping in Haiti! Of course this isn't a life or death type deal either.

Twas a good comment from Goodman tagged onto last post. Didn't know the original translators of Kierkegard were from good old Hovland, and such an interesting paradox that the presence of time-saving devices (by inference) could actually put a brake on one's potential to produce great work, .... I couldn't agree more. I've never read Kierkegard besides a few quotes by golly, and still have a lot of catch up work to do on that life long reading plan.

Well God bless, and don't forget to both brush and floss tonight!

Small is the New Big

In the 19th century, Margaret Fuller succinctly observed, “Some People for the sake of getting a living forget to live.” It doesn’t take a PhD in psychology to realize that unfortunately in our era this isn’t just the case for some people, but most. In a world with so much capacity to produce awe and wonder, the opportunity to worship as we choose, family and community to sink our roots into, meaningful relationships and friendships that could be developed and appreciated like fine wine, and almost limitless possibilities on a daily basis that would allow us to really suck the marrow out life, most of us are truly boring.

Much of this stems from the fact that we are distracted by the all-consuming pursuit of small meaningless careers in order to pay for, maintain, and fill our oversized houses. This constant struggle is like chasing after a strong Nor’easter in a vain attempt to fill a void. Thoreau got it right when he mused, “…the cost of a thing is the amount of what I will call life which is required to be exchanged for it, immediately or in the long run.”

Recently I stumbled upon one of the more noteworthy proponents of the Small House Movement, Jay Shafer. Go to his website, Tumbleweedhouses.com, and be blown away by the notion of a viable smartly designed 100 square foot home. These people are clearly extreme, but are very useful in helping the rest of us average folks come to grip with the reality that what we have is more than adequate to meet our needs.

The premise of this architect’s ideas is that a home should afford what is essential for comfort, but without the added burden of so much unused space. Contrary to the common notion that a vast house symbolizes the good life, these places in actuality can promote a life of drudgery. Shafer laments the fact that mortgages can devour 30-40% of a household’s income not even counting taxes, insurance, and maintenance. Uh……gulp. For many of us half the work week or even more is going to support our bloated furniture and entertainment warehouses. If every spare penny is going to house payments, heating bills (Shafer would spend just $170 for an entire winter!), etc, there is very little left to invest in charity, continuing education, hobbies, or whatever else truly brings fulfillment (not that money could possibly buy this). He is right in calling these oversized houses debtor prisons rather than a home.

Even Nietzsche (normally not to be included in one’s guidebook for happiness) saw this and remarked, “Truly, one who possesses little is so much the less possessed.” Possessed is indeed the right word. Even more important than the greenbacks one must shell out every month for his or her castle, is time (which includes extra time spent on the corporate treadmill, oops I mean ladder). Think of the things you will think of on your deathbed, which you will wish you only had a little more time for. These may include spending quality time with your children, experiencing the highs and lows of artistic inspiration, spiritual quest and fulfillment, reading the classics, cultivating a garden, or maybe just plain old relaxing.

Simplicity tends to cause us to focus in on that which really matters. Don’t get sucked into the popular notion that success entails earning more, spending more, and gaining more square footage. Most of the readers of this column, however, have chosen to live in this beautiful part of the country, and have already forsaken greater opportunities for financial gain elsewhere. This is such a short life. Live it to the fullest, and don’t get trapped into drudgery. Furthermore, next time you have a dreaded class reunion, think not upon how little money you are making or that you haven’t obtained that corner cubicle yet. Instead, measure your success against that which truly matters, and if you are at all like me and aren’t “there” yet, do something about it!