Absolutely Painful

Drew Wheelan of the American Birding Association and the bloggers at the Gulf Restoration Network continue to report the oily truth in the Gulf of Mexico. How many people believe that the disaster is over; the oil cleaned up or "dispersed"; the damage somehow mitigated? Do you believe that?

I've been working a lot the past couple of weeks. I come home tired, feet and legs hurting. My diet goes to hell because I don't have the energy or the time to cook like I usually do. I actually like my job, but that doesn't seem to make me any less fatigued when I'm done. The store where I work is a home and ranch store - they play a country music station all day that plays the same damned songs over and over, taking us down to the little white church at least 8 times a day. It's a large store with bright eye-piercing light and concrete floors (luckily the dept. I work in has a thin layer of something akin to carpet over the conrete). The radioes are going all day and this week is school-shopping week. That means kids. Lots and lots of kids.

I find it overstimulating at best and absolutely painful after 6 hours. I like to work and I definitely need the money, but I hate how it sort of sucks the passion out of my life temporarily. And I'm running late this morning, but I did want to keep the attention here at ER on the Gulf. Surely this story will eventually break.

Thanks for visiting.

Unbelievable

Unbelievable to me that Drew continues to find oil like this and it's not being reported anyplace where it could actually make a difference. It's obvious that BP has no interest in mitigating the environmental disaster caused by their spill and all the average American seems to want is a return to "normal". A return I'm afraid will not be forthcoming. I'm going to let you in on a little secret: oil does not disappear - especially not that amount of oil.

I continue to ask myself, daily: "What can I do?" I have a real averson to facebook and haven't even given twitter a twit. I did recently rejoin facebook so I can see pictures of my nieces and nephew and keep up with my cousins in South Carolina. I'm thinking this information may get more attention there, so even though I don't like the medium, I'm going to employ it for the cause. As soon as I can figure out how.

There are moments while looking at Drew's work that my rage can hardly be contained. I jump up from the computer and pace the floor, my heart racing with anger. I do some deep breathing and before I can even respond to the rage it's replaced by despair. A sinking feeling so deep you never get that final relieving thunk - it seems to go on, and on. Then I shrug it off and start looking around me to see what I can do - starting right here with my own personal environmental disaster. That's how I'm seeing my alcoholism now - as my own personal environmental disaster. For most of my life, for reasons known and not, I've responded to the polluting of my own system by my own hand about the same way BP is responding to the oil spill. Ignore it, cover it up, do everything right except stop the poison leak. Was it stupidity? Was it powerlessness in the face of a force stronger than my own will? Was it a deep desire to not wake up to reality?



Whatever it was, it's been relieved for the moment. That brings on a depth of gratitude which is the perfect remedy to the rage and despair that's bound to visit unheeded when you watch blogs like the American Birding Association's, when you stop to ponder just how and why we find ourselves where we are today: a nation that seems to not care. I don't believe that's who we are. And when I stop and ponder? Oftentimes, all I can come up with is the cowboy's favorite phrase: Fuck oh dear.



Fuck oh dear. Indeed. I remember that by all rights I probably shouldn't even still be here. I remember that joy is a choice away and the pain doesn't preclude the joy, it accompanies it. Always.

More Than One Kind of Oil

Drew's fly-overs of the Gulf become more disturbing by the day. (If you live in the U.S. and you don't follow that link - shame on you.) This is the kind of information that can start a revolution, but no one is really paying attention. Meanwhile, headlines say the economic "recovery" is slipping. I really want to curse here, but I will refrain. There hasn't been any kind of recovery and the media's own spin, brought to you courtesy of the Administration and corporate conglomerates, is not working anymore. Just this morning it was reported that the month of July was the second largest month for foreclosures ever.

The proposed energy bill is woefully inadequate to deal with our environmental issues and the advertisements for the Dodge Ram get glitzier and glitzier. Food prices are going up and the water table is going down. Those of us who have given up rearranging deck chairs are left to watch, mostly helpless, as the ship goes down. Maybe we'll be the only ones able to enjoy the stars on a dark night at sea.

I've begun writing to people who might be able to get the word out on the true story in the Gulf. In the meantime, there are things that provide me comfort. I hope no one thinks that I walk around living my life in a state of doom and gloom. True, I feel deeply the pain that goes with the kinds of issues we face, but it doesn't define or rule my life. I rarely speak of collapse with anyone but Brent, who is of a same mind.

Once acceptance is reached, every little thing becomes a blessing. Fresh food. Clean water. Relationships with family and friends. The ability to connect on-line. I have it better than most. I live in a state that has roughly a million people and takes a day to cross. I see eagles, osprey, white-tail and turkeys on a daily basis. Right now, there is abundant food to fish and hunt if you're willing to do that and I became willing some time ago. Actually I feel learning to hunt was an initiation that is helping me deal with things now, helping me to feel more empowered and capable of stepping up to the plate, whatever it holds.

I know my little blog is not doing much in the big picture, but it provides me some sense of participation and is a kind of launching pad for the activist I'm becoming.

I request, once again, that you please join me in sharing this vital information. Thank you.

Industrial Disease

I have industrial disease. And you do, too. I'm waking up from our shared delusion of living in the "more, more, more", consumer-driven, petroleum-based, disaster that we call our society. And you can, too. But you can't look away. You have to look and read and become truly informed. And maybe the hardest part? You have to admit we've all been duped.

My industrial disease manifests itself in all kinds of ways - both physical and mental. Physically, I've become wheat-sensitive (the reason which is another post in itself); I have inflamed tendons in my heels from being on my feet 8 hours a day for a pittance; I would find it extremely difficult to function without my car; I'm becoming allergic to lotions, soaps, make-up and especially perfume (hi Sherri); and the internet is my lifeline. Mentally, I struggle with strong emotional responses: depression, anxiety, nihilism. Then sometimes, like now, I feel alive and real like I never have before. I feel the kundalini energy tugging at the chakras.

Those are some late-stage symptoms. Early stage symptoms were a deep sense of disconnection from source, bad - as a matter of fact, very bad decisions based on false assumptions about how to live life, an appetite for drugs and alcohol that overrode my wise mind and early family issues I couldn't resolve at the time.

I'm almost 49 years old and though I'm sober today, I will be living with the affects of my use the rest of my life. I think I've finally accepted that. I've discovered a new commitment to myself and the earth and its inhabitants and the only thing I really want, which is to be awake and sober right now, is mine as I choose it. If I didn't take action now about the things I see happening, I would never forgive myself. I've made a mess of most of my life, but I can make a difference now. And so can you.

I don't know if many people are still visiting my blog. But I'm calling on what readers I have and my fellow bloggers to help me draw attention to the people on the ground in the Gulf who are reporting the real story. We have to fight. For ourselves, for the earth, for future generations if there are to be any. Information is currency. Food is going to be currency.

Sign the petition. Write your congressmen. But don't expect the change to come from them. It will only come from us. Put a link on your blog to Drew Wheelan and Jonathan Henderson. Even if it's impossible to wake up to the whole picture right now, wake up to this part.

Thank you for visiting Eclectic Recovery.

News from the Gulf

I don't have much time this morning, but I wanted to bring your attention, once again, to the reporting that Drew Wheelan, the Conservation Coordinator for the American Birding Association, is doing in the Gulf.

His reports continue to contradict what we're being told by BP, Obama and Corporate Media. He's obviously getting discouarged, feeling pretty helpless in the face of the situation, but he keeps flying-over and he keeps writing.

Drew is one of my current heroes.