Conscious Choice Seattle: Ready for a Step?

November 2006 | Person to Person

Ready for a Step?

By Jenny Rough

Together we made five: Mom, Dad, two brothers and a sister (me). And together we lived on planet Earth, but we didn’t preserve planet Earth. We left the faucet on while brushing our teeth. We tossed glass bottles, tin cans, plastic jugs, newspapers and magazines into garbage bags that were hauled directly to a landfill. We bought too much food at the grocery store and didn’t notice it perishing in our fridge.

I didn’t grow up green; I grew up glutton.

I don’t hold it against my parents, though. When I was 12, my dad took me to his old neighborhood and pointed out the unloved house where he’d been raised—all chipped paint, smudged windows, ripped porch windows and neglected yard.

“You lived there?” I asked as we drove by, my eyes as large as softballs.

My dad was reared by an alcoholic mother and a young, uneducated father who was adamant that his son be a doctor. Dad chose a legal career instead, and worked diligently to raise his children in suburban affluence. Shifting his life from rags to the riches of upper middleclass America was a gigantic step for my father—even if his step left an incalculably large environmental footprint of leather Johnston & Murphys.

I continued the wasteful practices of my upbringing through college and right up into my 20-somethings, when I met my husband. His love for animals had piqued a concern for the environment that ultimately led him to green living practices. One day, eating frozen yogurt from a Styrofoam cup, I realized I, too, needed to do my part to sustain the Earth.

Thus began a series of trips into the wilderness, where my connection to Earth deepened immediately. One week, I borrowed a friend’s Colorado cabin—a Buddhist mountain retreat. Nestled into this sparse, eco-friendly dwelling on 35 acres of wild, free land, I quickly unpacked my mind.

But I also wondered how I’d manage. There was no garbage disposal or dishwasher, no central air or heating. Water came from a cistern, and I became conscious of every drop.

Mornings I was outside on the wood deck with a steaming mug of tea. Turkey and deer wandered through to drink from a watering hole. I loved this style of living, but could I live in a low-energy home permanently? Was I ready to give up strong water pressure and long, hot showers?

I realized I was ready, especially if it meant playing a role in bringing the fresh air, blue sky and clean rivers of that mountain retreat back to the rest of the world. I’m still at the beginning of my journey with a lot to learn, but it’s my turn to take a gigantic step: moving from red living (“danger to the planet”) to green. Though I’m grateful to my dad for all he gave me, I hope my footprint on Earth will be of a different kind. Maybe in a pair of Crocs or organic hemp sandals?

Jenny Rough is a freelance writer. When she’s not checking to make sure she remembered to turn off the lights around her home, she writes the blog Roughly Speaking at www.JennyRough.com/talk.

Recommend this page to a friend

Top Ten pages recommended to friends: