Re-Post: What to Do If You Are Scared by Sandy

Colin Beavan, also known as the No Impact man, is a huge inspiration for me as an ordinary person who decided he had to change his habits because he didn’t want to be a negative impact on the planet.  Rather, he wanted to see if he could be a positive impact–energy-wise, carbon-wise, community-wise.  I have learned much from his journey and have made many many changes in my life because of his example.

Colin has written an incredible post about Hurricane Sandy and I urge you to read it.  His post follows, and the link is here if you want to visit his site.  And if you live in Brooklyn, seriously consider voting for this man come Tuesday.

What to do if HurricanE Sandy scared you

Dear friends,

I don’t say this often but I am scared. Not scared to the point of paralysis. Not scared enough to run away. Not scared enough to stop trying to help. Not scared enough to think we’re doomed. Just scared enough to feel worried for myself, my family, my friends, my community, my country, and my world.

I was lucky when Hurricane Sandy hit. My daughter Bella and I put on our waterproofs in the early hours and ran around Brooklyn’s Fort Greene park in the wind and rain with Frankie–our dog–and our Occupy Wall Street activist friend/hero Monica Hunken.

That night, the lights flickered a couple of times. I lost my internet for three hours. Frankie the dog hid in the upstairs bathroom bathtub. That was the extent of it.

But when I woke up, lower Manhattan was flooded and without power. All the coastal parts of Brooklyn and Queens from Red Hook to Coney Island through the Rockaways and Hamilton Beach were hammered. The wind had driven a fire through Queens that destroyed so many houses. And the world’s most amazing subway system was brought to its knees. To say nothing of poor Staten Island and coastal New Jersey.

We in the Tri-State Area didn’t get Katrina. But we got a taste of her.

Yes, there are some good parts. New Yorkers have been showing up some of the emergency shelters in such numbers that they have been turned away. There are donation drives and volunteer efforts. And about a gazillion New Yorkers have taken to cycling.

But there is a lot of suffering. And a lot of fear not of what Sandy brought. But of what next year’s storm will bring. And the year after that. And after that. First Irene, now Sandy, for how many years in a row can New York City withstand a “once in a century” storm, people are asking?

I hung up the phone with a friend just a few minutes ago. She said, “In some ways, this is way more scarey than 9/11, because you get the feeling that it could happen again and again and again.”

In a coffee shop this afternoon, everyone at every table was talking about climate change. People are talking about where they will go next time. To an aunt’s in New Hampshire. A friend with three cottages in Maine. People are talking about their escape plan for when New York stops functioning.

Katrina, Irene, Sandy, droughts all summer, busted corn crops, water shortages in the southwest: it’s hard to believe we aren’t seeing what the climate scientists predicted. But sooner. Way sooner than they said.

It feels ironic and sad. That the war in Iraq sparked by 9/11 may have got us what we wanted–control over more oil. But that burning that self-same oil has brought us another mini-9/11. Except that this one we are kind of doing to ourselves.

Fracking–the drilling for natural gas by injecting poisonous chemicals into the same rock formations that our drinking comes from. Fighting in the Middle East. Drilling in the arctic. Mountaintop removal in Appalachia. Mining the Canadian tar sands. Building the pipelines. This is bonkers.

Especially when the sun shines everywhere. The wind blows everywhere. The rivers run everywhere. We can generate our power in better, cheaper, safer ways.

Of course, there are reasons for resistance. Our economy is based on fossil fuels. Changing it would be a gargantuan effort. There would be a cost to a transition. But the costs of not making the transition will be much higher. Ask the NY Mass Transit Authority, which is still pumping out the tunnels. Or ask the citizens of New Orleans.

But this isn’t a bitch fest. It’s an appeal.

Years ago, when I did the No Impact Man experiment, I went on the Good Morning America show and I said it wasn’t important that all Americans did as much as I did. “We must each just do something,” I said.

I was mistaken. We must each do a lot.

We all–including me–have a tendency to think that shaking our fist at the TV news or leaving an angry comment on a blog or “clictivism” is some sort of an expression. We need to do more. Not just more at home, but more in our civic engagement, more in the citizen guiding of how our society moves forward.

In fact, I’d argue that we–all of us–need to find a way to dedicate at least some part of our lives to solving our problems. Climate change we need to fix, yes. But also we need to accept that the economic system we live in is driving that climate change. Consumption, as the basis for economy, has become like a winter coat that needs to be shed. It no longer serves us.

Now, I’m not going to claim that I know what each of us should do, how each of us should help to bring about the Great Transformation. I don’t think anyone exactly knows. This, by the way, was the great criticism of Occupy Wall Street, back in the day. That they didn’t say exactly what we should do. They didn’t make their demands clear, the press kept saying.

That was Occupy’s strength in my view. The willingness to bring attention to problems we don’t quite know the solutions for. Occupy didn’t have concrete demands because none of us quite know what we should be demanding quite yet. Occupy was saying “stop ignoring problems just because we don’t know the solution!!!!!!”

You may disagree with me. You may say, we know the solution, it’s renewable energy. But where is the political will to bring that change about when the fossil fuel industry has spent $150 million in this election cycle?

You may say, the solution is getting corporate money out of politics. But how do we do that when the politicians we need to vote for such a thing are the beneficiaries of that self-same corporate money?

You may say, the solution lies in measuring Gross National Happiness instead of Gross Domestic Product. But how do we get that done?

We have lots of ideas about what would fix things, but we have no idea how to actually get those ideas instituted. That’s kind of where we are at a loss. How do we actually bring about the change?

It’s not to say we can’t bring it about. But it is to say that a lot more of us are going to have to join the search for the solutions and the effort to institute them.

In a way, what I am saying is the same as what Occupy said: “Stop pretending that you can’t help just because you don’t know exactly how to help!!!!!!”

We all have to start dedicating some of our lives to these problems. Not just voting for the right people. Not just leaving comments on blogs. Not just having intense conversations over coffee.

So what then?

Here’s a thought. Decide to dedicate five to ten hours a week to helping figure out what to do. Then use those five to ten hours to bring your personal gifts to the search for societal solutions and the means of implementing them.

If you are political then, whatever side of the aisle you are on, start going to your party’s meetings and insist that they address themselves to the major, new-world problems we are facing instead of grumbling over the same stuff they have for 50 years. Get them to try to be leaders instead of winners.

If you are an artist or musician or writer, use your talents to bring more and more attention to our problems and the quest for the solution. Be a constant reminder of the peril our society and world faces.

If you are a therapist or life coach, find a way to introduce to your clients the idea that the problems they face are the same problems all of us are facing. Financial insecurity, for example, is something we can fix together better than any one of us can fix alone.

If you are a banker, bring your personal values and your heart and soul to work with you. The expression “it’s only business” has to be jettisoned. This idea that the free market will fix things so we can ignore the dictates of our conscience needs to be fixed.

If you have a spare bedroom, find an activist who can’t drag themselves away from the work they are doing for all of us long enough to earn themselves some rent. Home and safety for those on the front line of social change is a wonderful service.

If you have two feet, march with my friends at whenever you have a chance.

All of us have our own ways to help.

One thing is clear, whatever our individual contribution, every one of us needs to be moving back into the political system and the democracy. We are all so disgusted by it that our instinct is to abandon it. In this case, our instinct is wrong. We totally need to Occupy our democracy. We need to flood it with people, with us.

Overall, though, my point here is that all of us have a role to play in our cultural healing. There is no leader who can tell us how to contribute. Each of us has to look around us and use our own minds and souls to see what needs doing and how we are best suited to do it. Each of us must contribute in our own way.

I began this piece by saying that I’m scared. Because I am. But my fear is just a sign that I need to do something. There is really only one thing I know how to do–to write. And so I’m doing it. I don’t know if if will help. But it is the one thing I know how to do.

What is the one thing you know how to do? What is the one thing you can dedicate a slice of your life to?

We can’t leave it to the politicians or the designers or the Occupiers or the activists. It’s up to each of us.

Because–and I’ve said and written this many times–the question is not whether each of us is the type of person who can make a difference. The question is whether we are the type of people who want to try to make a difference. And Sandy has told us we all need each other to try.


PS I’d love to hear in the comments what you are doing or plan to do.

PPS If you want to let your Brooklyn friends know that I’m running for Congress and ask them to vote for me on Tuesday, that would be great too.

Hurricane Sandy Sale: 25% OFF!

Hi Folks!  Hoping to score some great deals before the madness of holiday shopping is upon us?  Looking for that perfect hostess gift for all those holiday parties I know you’ll be attending?  You’re in great luck, then!  We’re hosting a Sustainable Shanti sale over at our store.  You can get to it by clicking HERE.

The details:

25% Off Select Items (In the Hurricane Sandy Sale section)
Quantities are limited and the sale lasts as long as the supplies do.
Shop early to get the best selection.

Be well, do good, and spread the love!

Biking to the Wreckage

This afternoon, I decided it was time to leave my 8th floor encampment and venture out into the muck that Manhattan has become.  It has been strangely quiet and calm here in northern Harlem, though I had to laugh that there were still some guys hanging outside the deli during the worst of the storm.  Guess they weren’t around when brains and common sense were being distributed.

Ironically, Hurricane Sandy turned Manhattan into what New Yorkers think it is: an island unto itself.  We’re often accused of being a bit snobbish regarding our city roots, those of us that were born and raised here especially so, but when we lose our electricity, subways, buses, airports, taxis, bridges and tunnels, many of us find ourselves bewildered.  There was a flurry of facebook postings that mocked our inability to actually prepare for a natural disaster.  Since Sunday evening, though, this city has slowed down–perhaps it takes a hurricane to make the city that never sleeps stop its incessant pulse.

My trusty steed, aka my mom’s steel-framed road bike from 35 years ago, and I headed downtown–all the way down to the Battery.  Our neighborhood here in Harlem emerged from Sandy’s wrath relatively unscathed and I had to see the destruction for myself–afterall, I have spent the past two and a half days cooped up in an apartment only to see images on the news and hear the wind howling outside.

What I saw today, was nothing short of stunning, even moving me to tears at points.  I encountered the expected: the broken crane on 57th Street and 6th Avenue, the lack of street lights down most of 9th Avenue, the gushing hoses full of water from basements working tirelessly, and the mud, dirt and piles of leaves strewn about the streets.  Biking past one entrance to the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, I was immediately surprised at how dry it was.  Clearly the pumps have been going and going and going.


However, when I went slightly further south to the other tube of the tunnel (there are two), I was shocked; my hand rising immediately to my mouth as I gasped.  Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.  The tunnel was filled to the ceiling, piled with debris and barricades once placed with the best intentions.  It was so sad, such an in-your-face smack from the hurricane.

Being there and seeing the aftermath actually reinforced my belief that we, every single one of us, will be called upon to make potentially drastic changes to our lives and lifestyles because our environment demands it.  We have a choice, though: we can choose to respect the earth with our actions, understanding that we will perish before the mass we call our planet does.  Or, we can ignore what our natural world is telling us: our planet needs help, desperately.

My eleven mile ride home was a race against the encroaching darkness (remember: no street lights!), and a good hour to digest what I had seen and how I can be of service to this world.  As I biked through the streets of Battery City, a smile came across my face when I saw the families returning, many of them toting costumed children for their night of trick-or-treating.  This city of mine is a tough, stubborn bi-atch at times and we will always find a way to adapt to our situation, but perhaps this adaptation calls for something more than a sheer rebuild of what previously exists.  I hope that the companies involved in the rebuilding use this time to think out of the box and assess what can be done to prepare for our changing climate.  Given that this is my third hurricane in the northeast in three years, I cannot believe that we are only at the beginning of a pattern which will become the norm in the future.

And through the past three days, as since October 1886, our Statue of Liberty, our beacon of light, promise and hope, stood today still guarding our harbor as the sun set.  This New Yorker roamed her crown as a child, and as an adult, I was heartened by her sight, strength and courage to meet our storm head-on and with conviction, as she has so many immigrants and families–mine included.  I only hope that all the communities devastated by this storm have the same conviction to find life, joy and hope in the wreckage.