{"id":3119,"date":"2008-06-16T18:53:42","date_gmt":"2008-06-17T00:53:42","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/wordpress-367309-1145705.cloudwaysapps.com\/?p=3119"},"modified":"2008-06-16T18:53:42","modified_gmt":"2008-06-17T00:53:42","slug":"through-the-lens-of-radical-sustainability-not-rose-colored-glasses-but-green-and-keen","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sustainablog.org\/articles\/through-the-lens-of-radical-sustainability-not-rose-colored-glasses-but-green-and-keen\/","title":{"rendered":"Through the Lens of Radical Sustainability: Not Rose-Colored Glasses, but Green and Keen"},"content":{"rendered":"
This past weekend signified the very middle of my venture to live 100% environmentally sustainably. \u00a0To mark the occasion, I unwittingly placed myself in a situation where every one of my interactions and experiences emphasized my unique new mindset.<\/p>\n
I spent the weekend on a camping trip<\/a> with three of my buddies from college. \u00a0<\/p>\n Camping?<\/em> \u00a0Yes, it’s a bit redundant: I live in a tent. \u00a0What is appealing about a weekend doing the same? \u00a0Well, I envisioned a change of pace, a change of scenery, and some good times with old friends. \u00a0What I got instead transcended that simplistic vision, but it was a powerfully emotional experience.<\/p>\n Their comfort levels-<\/strong>-with bugs, rain, and physical discomfort–differed vastly from mine. \u00a0<\/p>\n Their concept of “camping<\/strong>“–purchasing huge amounts of camping junk, like metal pokers and lawn chairs, then tossing many useful things out at the end of the weekend–clashed with my own. \u00a0<\/p>\n Their idea of how to start a campfire<\/strong>–lighter fluid and plastic packaging–baffled and bewildered me.\u00a0<\/p>\n Whenever I tried to offer an insight, which had been gleaned directly from my six weeks so far of using many of the same techniques, I was ignored. \u00a0It soon dawned on me that they didn’t want to know efficient or respectful techniques for fire-starting or cooking or understanding the plants around them. \u00a0<\/p>\n They were “playing camp.”<\/strong>\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n These were people who worked 40-hour weeks, drove to and from work, and were fundamentally disconnected from their environment, while I had recently grown deeply connected to it. \u00a0Psychologically, it seemed they needed<\/em> the experience of playing “primitive” to alleviate the stresses of having spent months under a routine social system that they felt helpless to change. \u00a0Realizing this, I had no choice but step back and remain quiet. \u00a0I was quiet all weekend, examining the change within myself and between my friends, and realizing that…<\/p>\n It is official. \u00a0I have flipped. \u00a0The person who planned this three-month adventure is not the same as the one hereby perpetuating. \u00a0I can never thinking of “camping” in the same way as I once did, or as my colleagues do<\/em>. \u00a0I realized yesterday that I will never buy a new car–at least, never one that runs on petroleum. \u00a0I realized I would never again be able to rationalize the purchases that my friends regularly made in their own lives. \u00a0I do not know what the implications of this shift are. \u00a0Strikingly, I did not seriously prepare for this possibility when I was planning for the three-month adventure. \u00a0<\/p>\n Now, though, I am aware of its serious effects.<\/p>\n