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How I Got Started in Recycling PDF Print E-mail
Written by Gretchen Brewer   
Saturday, 12 December 2009 07:36

In 1978, I read "Buddhist Economics" by Fritz Schumacher, author of Small Is Beautiful, and this essay changed my life. He posited what would now be called ecological economics, and the concept of appropriate technology. In his hypothetical Buddhist economy, the idea was to live better with less. Runaway consumption of increasingly scarce resources would lead to violence against nature, which would inevitably lead to conflicts among people and nations. He also cited the Buddhist teaching to plant trees, which really rang a bell with me, as I've been a tree‐lover since childhood.

This essay propelled me to seek recycling work at a time when there was not a recycling field in the US. I wanted to preserve resources and the environment while creating green enterprises and meaningful jobs, and I figured recycling would bring this all together. I was sure I'd never look back and have regrets about making recycling my life's work.

It took a few years for me to realize this objective. After much research, I found the only recycling program in Chicago and began volunteering there. When Harold Washington was running for Mayor, I wrote a Recycling/Job Creation Plan for Chicago saying that citywide recycling would create 7,000 jobs, and to my amazement, he made this a central plank in his economic development program. Once he was elected, city funds became available for recycling for the first time, and that made it possible for me to become a paid staff‐member of the Resource Center and mentor under Ken Dunn, one of the legends of the recycling movement.

I've worked in recycling ever since, helping to launch programs in Chicago, California, Massachusetts; designing recycling programs for the Navy, government, corporations, and non‐profits. To me there are crystal clear, and increasingly urgent connections between how we use or overuse resources and world peace, climate change, and the fate of the planet.

I continue to have a special interest in the fate of forests around the world. I would like to take an active role in preserving forests of all types, and in developing ways to keep forests standing as oxygen banks, carbon sponges, and rain‐makers. The Chipko Reforestation movement in India has the slogan: "What do the forests bear? Soil, water, and pure air." I'm convinced that the climate change meetings in Copenhagen must devise a sweeping program to preserve and restore forests and plant more trees around the world to soak up all the CO2 we keep churning out in countless ways. After all, what are we thinking? We need oxygen to breathe, and trees and plants are the machines that make oxygen. We must have holes in our heads to think we can knock down trees, wipe out forests, and not reap the consequences. In New England, where we are privileged to have luxurious forest cover, the trees make our weather just like rainforests. If plans went forward, as some wish, to harvest our forests to burn for energy, we would turn New England into a desert. Farming would cease, lakes and rivers would dry up, soil would blow away, ecosystems would collapse, and our sublimely livable environment would become a wasteland. All this for a flash‐in‐the‐pan shot of energy that’s but a fraction of our energy needs.

I would like to see a new type of socially responsible investment created, or find out if such a thing already exists, that I'll call forest credits. It would be along the lines of microfinance, that is, a small investment within the reach of most people, whereby individual

contributions could add up to a huge fund to support preservation/restoration of forests worldwide. It would work along the lines of a carbon fund, and would be directly tied with bona fide, verifiable efforts to keep forests intact, such as the Prince’s Rainforest Project led by Prince Charles of Great Britain. Besides recycling paper to save trees, I would like to work to create such a program, or otherwise be directly involved in forest protection and tree‐planting. The silver lining of having recently been laid off from my government job is that I now have the free time to work on this to my heart’s content.

Last Updated on Monday, 11 January 2010 09:25
 
People-Hugger PDF Print E-mail
Written by Gretchen Brewer   
Saturday, 28 November 2009 00:00

About a week ago, it was a gray, blustery fall day, with stiff wind gusts scattering the leaves. As I walked back to my car, I noticed the oak in the corner of my backyard covered in bright yellow leaves glowing against the leaden sky. The tree was dancing exuberantly, flinging down its leaves with gleeful abandon to form a golden carpet on the blacktop. I gazed up at the tree in admiration, and suddenly felt it clasp me in a full frontal hug and pulse energy into me, almost like it had made love to me. I actually felt a warm glow, almost like sexual pleasure. I’m not lying. This was the weirdest experience, and it stuck with me the rest of the day. I would think of that dancing tree and feel uplifted…and turned on!

At the time, I also thought about my visit the day before to my favorite tree in the Arboretum. I haven’t seen ‘my’ trees there in months, so I drove over the day before the dancing oak experience and climbed the fence into the Leavintritt Garden with my camera. I greeted my tree and had a long, heartfelt talk with it, giving thanks for its beauty, wisdom, strength, and helping me when I needed a strong support. There’ve been times when I was in the Arboretum to practice t’ai chi when I was feeling weak or tired, or unfocused. I have called out to the trees there for help and strength while doing standing meditation, and I swear I have felt energy surge into me, coming from the earth up through my feet and into my whole body, rooting me to the ground. This is no lie. It has happened to me many times.

On this visit, I apologized to my tree for not having visited in so long. I took many photos of it from different angles, including some close‐ups of the lichen, moss, and other miniecosystems living in harmony on the tree. I clung to the tree’s one long horizontal limb that I can reach, and felt its strength. I didn’t need words; the tree and I understood each other.

So when the dancing oak embraced me the next day, I imagined that trees probably communicate with each other underground all the time, and that ‘my’ tree in the Arboretum had asked the oak in my backyard to give me a boost. And what a boost it was! I’ve always been a tree‐hugger, but that yellow oak hugged me back!

Last Updated on Monday, 11 January 2010 09:24