It is drizzling in Portland as I write this. It has been drizzling for months. A faint rain, as constant and unending as the patience of a saint.
Stumptown is one of the epicenters of the eco-consciousness movement, and so, although water is not a scarce commodity, in an act of empathy and unity with the rationing of the world, I find myself aware of my water usage.
The facet is turned off when brushing teeth. Water running through the rusty pipes of the old dwelling I reside in is caught and used for watering plants. I believe in showering with a friend whenever possible. I drink my whisky neat, saving the thimbleful of water once drizzled into the heavy glass tumbler.
Am I a better person for it? Heck to the yes! While I can't admonish everyone to live to my strict guidelines, it would be against my principle/s (plural? h'mmmm) to advise against considering it.
Conservation is like a muscle. The more one uses it, the more one is aware of it, desires to employ it. Feels the lacuna, the lack, when it is not deployed.
New Mexico. Beautiful, magical, mystical. A land of vast expanses and people of great kindness and graciousness. There is a long history of working within the... range of a vast environment that is wide-open (how hot is that!), under a canopy of blue sky.
This is a part of the country that is used to the concepts of refusing, reusing, and then recycling. What at first glance might look like a mass-hoarding spree is a wisely collected array of items that will be retasked, repurposed, and perhaps painted and used as planters, sheltering tender new shoots of life.
Water is a resource that is utilized with respect in this region. If you are visiting, it is good to follow the local custom of conservation. This is why I invited a small (but well-formed) group of individuals to "Share the power of the shower!" (Yes, I came up with the slogan; I would be happy to donate it to any area working with water conservation issues.)
In my peregrinations, I had the pleasure of sleeping around (in a manner... of speaking) at the The Santa Fe Hostel -- which is close to the Platonic ideal of an alt-indie space for persons traveling on a higher plane. (Interpret that anyway you like.) Due to an exulted attitude...er, altitude, this comes naturally to many hostlers -- which as a group, often overlaps with the Happy Campers.
Talked up one of the friendly, hot individuals (could it be all the red and green chili peppers people consume that contribute to the preponderance of pulchritude? Folks here are fantastically alluring!... But I digress...)
about the recycling possibilities at the Santa Fe Hostel, and we kicked it for a few minutes on the topic. Because N.M. has relatively few people, and those folks are spread out, sending out a truck to pick up items may not be the most useful method of reclaiming materials. That said, metal, glass, paper, and "plastics #1 and 2 are recycled" at the hostel. "But really," said my delicious guide, "how many plastics are #1 and 2!"
I nodded sagely. "You are so right!" I agreed. (When in doubt -- or hope -- agree; that's the London motto.)
Made a mental note to look at the bottom of plastic containers, where the numbers are stamped, and find out what a #1 or 2 plastic looks like. ASAP. It's always a learning moment. (Damn it!)
