Sarjé Haynes is a painter and writer living on stolen Long Tom and Kalapuya ancestral lands. She has two adventure cats she coparents with her partner. You can learn more about her at http://sarje.art.
We'd been walking for awhile through the histricity streets--felt like about six HUnits--when we encountered an unusual sight: a lighted storefront. The lights were blindingly bright and colorful. They were twisted and curved into unusual shapes, a kind of text I hadn't encountered before.
I've sat down repeatedly over the past week to write an article outlining my favorite "sustainability hack," and struggled. Not because I don't have favorites--there are many, and I'll list them below--but because the biggest hack I am still seeking for myself is how to stay hopeful that sustainability is possible.
Day three on the farm. Or maybe day four. Pretty quickly you stopped counting, because it doesn't really matter. You're picking gooseberries again. The scratches from the thorns are like badges of honor, or perhaps they are the start of a sentence that might reveal some deeper truth to you one day, if you dig deeply enough-- and repeatedly-- into the momentarily painful bramble at the center of the bush: where the fruit still somehow flourishes, right at its heart.
As we pass the midway point through the seemingly-endless year 2020, it's impossible to predict what the next six days will look like, much less six months. But it's safe to say that almost none of us will forget the general trajectory of events that have transpired. First came the global pandemic, tanking the economies of world powers after they shamefully denied the danger of Covid-19. Then, the calls from conservatives to reopen businesses before the virus was contained (it still isn't).
Cocoa Bean comes into my room and hops up on my bed. The window blinds are closed. He pads at them gently with his black velvet paw. I twist the blind angle open, and sunshine floods the room. Cocoa, who is a year and a half old but still sounds like a kitten, bobs his head trying to catch the correct angle through the window blinds. I pull the cord, raising the inner horizon. I try to lock the lines parallel, fighting with the damn thing for about a minute. I urge it on: "come on baby, I know you want to show us the day!”
Well, here we are, stuck in quarantine for the umpteenth day and feeling dejected about our entertainment options. Don't worry, friends! Let us take to the internet, and its bounty of streaming options!
When I think about better days I don’t think about going back to my past. A lot of people are excited about the idea of getting back to work, getting back to the mall, restaurants, festivals...getting back to the way things have always been.
February 4, 2020 I drag myself out of bed at three am. I can't sleep. After struggling to peel myself out of my sleeping bag, I tug my freezing cold overalls back on. I slip my boots on my already-cooling toes, my breath visible as I make my way staggering up to the front of the parked bus. I force the door open and race across the street to the truck stop we're stopped outside of for the night. We are near Provo, UT, midway home in our new (twenty year-old) school bus, which we plan to convert into a mobile home.