In August, I was sowing the seeds of a fall crop that were not material but which I nonetheless depend on to sustain me—although I did not know it then. Pressure built, demanding change of some sort, while I argued with myself for patience, counseled caution, insisted on some sense of pragmatic security.

I really wanted to stay at my job indefinitely. I appreciate and am grateful for the caring community here, the support of my boss, and the opportunity to learn and grow in Jewish spiritual practice. But I’ve come to admit, while I am capable of doing office work and even of doing a decent job—moreover, I am now fairly experienced at it—it is not my strongest point. I don’t love office work. It’s not a good fit for me. And staying at the same office work position for three years has been a drain on my motivation.

At some point I realized that I had already made a decision to leave; it was just figuring out how, and what to do next, that I had left to do. And on my mind was farming.

When I realized I was going to leave, I cut my costs dramatically. I had been spending too much on little luxuries—books, restaurants, snacks, tea. I cut a lot of extras out of my budget, and even reduced my cell phone plan. I had already moved to a place with cheaper rent, but I found myself wanting to cut living expenses still more. I also adjusted my student loan payments to be more in line with my present income. I began to put by a little money every month, with the goal of having a comfortable savings on which to live very frugally for several months. And I researched farm internships.

Farm internships often offer housing (on the farm) and some food (from the farm) and sometimes a stipend for living expenses (not much) in exchange for hard outdoor work for long hours, planting, weeding, tilling, harvesting, animal care, often some handywork around the farm, and sometimes some CSA administration work or direct to market sales. Some farms offer educational opportunities above and beyond the learning-by-doing aspect of the job. Housing ranges from a place to put your tent to bunkhouse style to cozy cabins. The more I thought about it, the more I craved it. It sounded perfect.

So I have been preparing to transition from my 36hr/week office job that pays me a decent living wage, if not quite enough to prosper in the Bay Area, with people I know and like who know and like me, that allows me to live near my Beloved, to an unknown internship on some probably distant land-base (farms are what I first thought of, but quickly found myself applying for residential internships at parks, recreational areas, and guest ranches as well), with unknown people and work I’ve only done a little of. I’m preparing to move to a basement room my friend offered me rent free in exchange for work for a couple of months, until such time as the rest of my plan comes together. This is forcing me to pare down my belongings still further—I’m within sight of the 100 Things Challenge without making a special effort, having consolidated my library to about thirty books and identified a good amount of clothing to get rid of, as well as everything I own that’s too large to fit in a standard sized car. It’s also making me a little crazy right now, since I have work to do on the room before I can move in, and I will have to move Christmas weekend. I haven’t started packing. Every time I think about packing, I start getting rid of things instead. It’s kind of soothing.

I’m very close to announcing where I’m going, I think. It’s too early yet to confirm, but I think things are coming together for an internship that, while it doesn’t fit many of the criteria I was looking for, just feels like a harmonious fit. Reason hasn’t gotten me anywhere so far this trip, other than building my savings, so I’m going with the gut on this one too.

Slowly, slowly, from darkness, shapes of my future are starting to emerge. Just like the day emerging from the winter dark, at first the change is slow—barely noticeable; the two weeks around Solstice each day is almost the same length as the one before. But preparations are going on madly under the dark soil, in the gloomy sky. And as the days begin to lengthen, the cold begins to strengthen, even as the amount of sunlight each day waxes. Until between Imbolc and Ostara, between early February and the Spring Equinox, the days will get brighter and longer—faster. And around the Spring Equinox, when my next flurry of packing and moving will probably be happening, the change will be most dramatic of all. Each day will look very different from the one before. Warmth will be returning to the earth, and light, and the growth of new things.

So far my impression of the project is that in a few areas, I won’t have far to go—transportation, for instance, isn’t a big problem for me because I walk or take public transportation pretty much everywhere I go. On the other hand, my diet is still higher in meat than I’d like, and I still buy things new too often. I also use far too much electricity. So in many areas I can stand to improve, and I hope participating in this project will help me. It sounds fun, and it also sounds like if enough people do it (and over 2000 are participating in this round) the momentum will build and possibly tip a few more people into the radically-sustainable column.

Tomorrow is consumption day, and also the day we keep track of all our trash to assess how much we’re throwing away. Tonight, I made a list of all the things I think I “need” to buy this week—starring vinegar, baking soda, shaving cream, fabric and dowels (for a yet-to-be-disclosed project), energy bars, a gift for my uncle’s retirement party, and a few more trivial items. After some reflection, I’ve decided I don’t need any of it. I have a plant I can give my uncle, the project can wait (it may be rendered unnecessary anyway), I have been meaning to switch to shaving with soap anyway, and the vinegar and baking soda can wait a week, unless I have another drain slowdown.

Tomorrow is also the day when I’ll collect all the trash I produce for the day so I can figure out where I can cut back on my waste on Monday.

What I like about the No Impact Week project is that it’s entirely guilt free. No one’s making you feel bad about your impact. We’re all coming at this at different levels, and we all have the same goals—to have a better, more fun, more sexy, more enjoyable life that is less dependent on the destruction of the ecosystems that make our lives fun, sexy, and enjoyable. But because we’re all at different places, the No Impact Project doesn’t recommend one set of rules for everyone; it aims to allow you to make reductions where you can and in the ways that make sense for your life. If you’re interested in joining in, you can still sign up here!

I don’t think I’ve lost too much in the way of dry goods, either, as disastrous as that sounds; much of it needed to be replaced anyway, and I’d just bought more mung beans, so I can live on that while I restock. And my emergency food stores—the freeze dried stuff—are in my bedroom, which so far isn’t getting wet.

This is a really good opportunity to assess what I need to change about my living environment. Few of our seasonal storms should last this long or be this severe, but if I make adjustments assuming they will be, I should be prepared even for an El Niño winter.

I think it’ll help if we get our roof gutters cleaned out. I don’t know if they have been cleaned since last year, and if not, that could be exacerbating the leaks.

When I was a Floridian, this would have been absolutely silly. I probably would have been sitting out on the porch watching it come down. Of course, it would have been 78°F, too, and I never knew anyone with an outdoor kitchen in Florida. Now it’s funny to watch the local authorities going absolutely nuts about this approximately tropical storm strength weather, and me getting all in a tizzy with them. It just feels so much worse when it’s cold out and the days are shorter, for some reason.

No, this won’t be a weather blog all winter.

I told my housemate yesterday how pleased I was with my success, and we talked about the house’s history with this particular squirrel a bit; apparently he is very bold and a little aggressive (which I had noticed, since he kept coming up to me while I was building the cage with a kind of “what do you think you’re doing to my plants, human” posture).

While we were talking, we both heard a crash-tinkle as of glass breaking. We looked at each other. I went outside. The squirrel was running along my countertop knocking over my orchids, my glass jars, and miscellaneous other things, which he had not previously bothered. The crash was my orchid pot breaking. I grabbed for a broom like a maddened, bearded housewife, but he vanished into the vines to cuss at me.

You have had your day, squirrel. Now–it is war.

1 small acorn squash, or half a large one

1 small red onion

Spices: Turmeric, cumin, cayenne pepper, fresh ground black pepper, salt. (No spice measurements, sorry; I season to nose.)

Cut up the onion, and cut, peel, deseed, and cube the squash. Save the seeds for roasting later.

Oil a deepish skillet and heat it medium hot, below the smoke point of your oil. I used cast iron even though it darkened my onions a little.

Add the onions and stir. Sprinkle with some salt, some turmeric, and some black pepper. Stir more until they soften.

Add the squash. Season with some more salt and turmeric, and with a generous amount of cumin and a careful amount of cayenne. Stir to coat evenly and cover for a couple of minutes to roast. When the cubes of squash are sticking to the pan just a bit, add a cup of water to the hot pan to deglaze the caramelized squash, stir briefly, and cover. Cook undisturbed for about 20 minutes, or until the squash is soft. Then eat it up.

Main dish for one with some left over for later, or side dish for two.

Recently, I made a big change in my lifestyle. Over the last few months, I’ve embarked on a new way of living, indeed even a whole new identity for myself, that has had an incalculable positive impact on my life. Ever since, I’ve been simultaneously wanting to share the news of my discovery and afraid to reveal my secret. You see, I’ve become a bidet user.

Waste for your waste?

It’s not that there’s anything wrong with using toilet paper. Aside from the waste, I mean. Premium toilet papers—that is, anything other than recycled one-ply—use a lot of water to produce, burn up fossil fuels in transportation, and cause immense harm to our forests, not to mention that you’re throwing money into the toilet every time you flush. And then there’s the little matter of how clean does it actually get you? You’re not really washing yourself, just sort of…smearing. It’s not a pleasant thing to have to say or think about, but it’s true. But like I said, millions of people do it, and most people reading this blog probably grew up with it; it’s a perfectly fine way of life. Just not one I wanted for myself anymore.

Too luxe for me...

I did research on bidets for awhile, obsessively and in secret, trying to figure out if I might be a latent bidet user. I thought that in order to be a bidet user one would have to be prepared to spend hundreds of dollars on a new bathroom fixture, and somewhat with relief concluded that it wasn’t an option for me—not only can I not afford that, but I’m not a homeowner, and I’m also too lazy to install something complicated. Besides, getting a whole new bathroom fixture was even more wasteful than using toilet paper.

...and too complicated for me.

Then I saw the toilet seat models. They were still expensive, but not quite as expensive. They still required installation, but not quite as much installation. I could probably install one without damaging the toilet or the toilet seat. But the affordable ones seemed to be made of cheap plastic, and many of them were intended to be plugged in so that you could heat your spray, which again seemed wasteful. And then I moved to a place with a toilet that was too non-standard for one of those to work, and I had to go back to the drawing board.

There are these little travel bidets that all use batteries (more waste) and look like they hold about as much water as a dime-store squirt gun, which didn’t seem very effective. In fact, I found myself wondering if a squirt gun would do the trick. And that reminded me of the pump-action waterguns we used to run around with in college, which made me wonder—why isn’t there a simple container of water that you pump to pressurize, with a spray attachment?

Just right! This is the model I chose; it won't win a beauty contest but it does the job.

Like, you know, a compression garden sprayer?

It was a perfect solution. Stainless steel compression sprayers can cost less than $40. They’re designed to contain really caustic substances, so they must be really durable and also pretty non-reactive. The spray is completely adjustable. They hold plenty of water for my needs. No one really needs to heat bidet water unless there is danger of freezing; the immediate vicinity is not very temperature-sensitive, I’ve noticed. No installation is necessary. Best of all, it allows for water conservation—I top up the tank with my excess shower water, which would otherwise just go down the drain.

You can do this too. The benefits are: healthier, more sanitary, and more pleasant toilet habits, as well as money and resources saved by not buying paper to flush down the loo. The costs are: from $10-$50, depending on garden sprayer model; about 1.5 gallons of water a week if you don’t use your spare shower water; slight risk of either being embarrassed about your bidet use or embarrassing your friends by becoming a bidetvangelist.

Here’s how to use a garden sprayer bidet:

1) Buy a compression garden sprayer new. Normally, I’m all for reusing, but I just don’t support spraying water that may have been contaminated with pesticides at one’s butt. Go to a garden store or shop online; choose plastic or metal based on your preferences; just don’t use a garden sprayer that has ever been used for pesticides, harsh cleaners, or chemical fertilizers.

2) Assemble the pump and spray arm, if necessary. Fill the tank and put it within reach of your toilet. Keep a dedicated hand-sized towel nearby as well.

3) When you go, instead of reaching for the toilet paper, give the sprayer a few pumps—two or three will probably be enough. Lean back a bit, aim the spray nozzle, and squeeze the handle. Spray off until you’re satisfied. Avoid letting the spray head touch your body during use, but if it does, just wash it off.

4) Most of the time you should only need to pat dry with the towel. At first, I dried off with toilet paper just to make sure I was getting myself clean. But once you get used to using the bidet, you shouldn’t need toilet paper very often. I mostly keep mine around for guests.

5) Refill the tank when you notice it getting low, preferably by catching your spare shower water—just open the top and set the bidet tank in the path of the shower spray while you’re showering. Or if it’s more convenient, use a bucket and pour the water from the bucket into the bidet.

That’s it! It’s easy! Furthermore, it’s actually pleasant. No matter how luxe the toilet paper you buy, it’s never really going to feel pleasant. This is one of those times that making the big sacrifice for the environment actually turns out to be the more hedonistic option. So go for it! Try it out for a week. If you decide you like it, don’t lock yourself away in the (water) closet—be out and proud!

There have been a few things I’ve felt badly about this summer. For one thing, I’ve been growing away from my Jewish community as I’ve felt less joyful about my work for my synagogue. I’ve come to see the diminishing of joy in my work there as related to a shift in priorities and a desire to pursue work that feeds values that I hold more deeply than I value organized religion. So I can’t regret those feelings. But I do regret that I’ve allowed them to harm the quality of my work and my relationships with my community.

In general, I’ve been making some improvements in my tendency to procrastinate and avoid work I feel negative about. But I’ve also become more acutely aware of how strong those tendencies are, and how pervasive they are, so it’s hard for me to feel as good about my incremental improvements as I otherwise might.

I’ve also been rather irresponsible with money this year. I’m making a commitment to cut my spending and save money so that I can have more freedom to do work that supports my values, rather than simply doing whatever will pay enough for me to live on (and eat out as often as I want, and buy things occasionally because I feel like it and not because I need to).

But on the up side, I’ve simplified my life quite a bit through getting rid of a lot of unnecessary things. I’m living smaller, and that should help me save money. I’ve made some decisions that I feel very good about, and I’m looking forward to putting them into action in the coming year. Now as we start to leave summer behind—by my reckoning autumn started at Lammas, around August 1, and winter begins at Samhain—the pace of life will start to slow down a little, and I’ll have more time for reflection, relaxation, and inner work before the next season of growth.

I spent a good amount of time this trip clarifying my values. I identified four major areas of my life that I really value and want to deepen. These four are calm, ecological sustainability, intimacy, and flow.

Calm is deliberately vague. I called it that to separate it from “peace”, which could refer to geopolitical peace as much as an inner sense of quiet well-being. I certainly intend to work for peace in the world, but right now I feel a greater need to work for calm in my life. This is about my values now, not as I might like them to be sometime in the future.

Ecological sustainability is specific, but complex. I wrote down “mutually beneficial interactions among humans and environment”, and looking back I think I meant “non-human life and natural resources” by “environment”. That means first, do no harm, but more than that, do good. Every living thing has a role to play that contributes positively. We humans cannot settle for just standing aside.
Right now it sometimes seems that even just standing aside and doing no harm is impossible, but I think that’s because we’ve been thinking about it as standing aside and doing no harm, rather than finding a positive contribution to make with everything we do. I think it’s actually more possible to do the latter than to have no impact. Of course we must have an impact; we exist in an embodied world, a physical world, and we are physical beings in it. I think permaculture is about making that impact a positive one rather than a negative one.

Intimacy refers to the deep emotional and intellectual connections I form with my friends. This value can easily go haywire—I’ve often tried to meet it by having dinner out with people far too often, and I’m no longer interested in spending so much of my money that way. I can more efficiently support this value with deep conversation over tea or walking in the park or cooking and eating a meal together at home.

Flow refers to a sense of creative absorption and total engagement with the task at hand, with minimal or no emotional resistance to the task, so that all one’s energy goes into getting the work done and very little into wrestling one’s fleeing thoughts into submission in order to make oneself do it. It is joy in work—effortless focus, even though the task itself can be very challenging. I’ve noticed I find flow when I’m doing creative work—design, writing, or big-picture planning.

My job doesn’t serve these values very much these days. I’ve begun actively exploring several avenues to get where I’ve decided I want to go with my skills and interests. I want to design life-changing educational encounters between people and the natural world, particularly in parks, nature centers, botanical gardens, and teaching farms. To this end I’ve begun job searching, but also making plans to go back to school half-time. It’s helped me feel more hopeful as I do the work that’s before me now. It’s also helping me take charge of my life, which is something I’ve been having difficulty with since admitting to myself that I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my museum degree.