The same city as me (2008)

Knowing you live in the same city as me is like knowing the pantry's stocked, or that the river's there, if I want it, even if I can't see it, even if I'm just sitting at my desk.

Your name pinches me.

And god is an atom.

Nightwind (2010)

for Eleni

My window is open to you

nightwind

Oh

if you should enter to find me

zipped up 

and preparing

for the full sleep granted only to travelers--

Alone, between worlds, I am one even in my own city.

My lullabye is my own love

vast for you

warmer than even you 

night wind.

lover.

How do I move oceans, 

how do I leave continents 

for my other half, 

while my sister is without me?

But it is

this:

My love is my only lullabye

and with this much of it

how can I be lonely?

how can I be cold?

A Sweater Is (2005)

A bicycle that you love and love and love and love until it is stolen or lost or if you are lucky, used until it wears down to dead-beat brakes and shone tires. When the paint is peeled and the spokes are rusted—that is when it has been loved too thin to keep you warm, and you will throw it in a chest of other old bicycles in the attic, to forget, but not trash, on account of sentimentality.

Jane Greatall

I went to see Jane Goodall on Wednesday night. She was speaking in the gym at Canisius College and the queue went right down Main Street, then wrapped around West Delavan. The line was moving...well, barely at all. Despite this, everyone was calm and patient and without complaint. It reminded me of when the Dalai Lama came to UB and for the 3 days he was in town, although there were actually more people on campus, it felt like less because nobody was pushing one another to get through doors. And forget fame--that is what the presence of a very special kind of person does. I saw old people and young people; everyone felt like-minded and simpatico. Even Erik Starchild was there. The two Canisius women in front of me had gym bags and were eating donuts. What I really wanted at the moment was a juicy hamburger. It was nearly 8 pm, I'd worked hard all day and hadn't had dinner, but I didn't mind. I reflected on this as I sat down. I was one of the last 20 people admitted and yet because of the way they seated us, I had an incredible seat, very near to Jane's profile. I was reminded of a bit of Barthelme, who wrote: 

...and that it is good to leave a few crumbs on the table for the rest of your brethren, not to sweep it all into the little beaded purse of your soul but to allow others, too, part of the gratification, and if you share in this way you will find the clouds smiling on you, and the postman bringing you letters, and the bicycles available when you want to rent them, and many other signs, however... (Barthelme, City Life, Farrar, Strous, 1970).

I dropped out of my rat-race job in order to spend all of my time meaningfully, and of my own design. Wednesday was my first night of freedom and I felt, sitting on those bleachers, waiting for Jane--we were encouraged by an introductory slideshow to think of her as "Jane"--that I'd been brought letters--she hadn't said a word yet. When she did begin, she told us how humbled she was that we had all come to see her, ("I know some of you saw me peering at you as we drove up, and you recognized me"). To thank us for coming, she said hello  in chimpanzee. We laughed, we clapped, our hearts were warm. I should age half as well! I thought.

By way of introduction, she said, "Nobody can do anything alone," and thanked her mother. It was her mother, she said, who was the reason for everything, for her success. Jane's story is incredible. From the age of tiny, she wanted to go to Africa to study animals. But to go to Africa at all, which is now an attainable dream for a hard working lady scholar, was laughable. There were no study abroad programs then, and she was the wrong sex. Plus, her family was dirt poor. There were very few scholarships given, and they were only given to those who excelled at languages. Although she knew everything there was to know about the animal kingdom, Jane did not excel at languages. Her mother advised her to learn to become a secretary, and get a job in Africa. Jane did, and then proceeded to pay a visit to her future mentor, the paleontologist, Louis Leakey. She wowed him with her animal knowledge, and soon after, began to work for him. And just as the six months of funding he had was about to run out, Jane came upon a chimp in the forest, who was dipping a stick into a mound of insects and putting it to his mouth. Then he began stripping the bark off the stick: toolmaking. Louis Leakey got more money. Thus Jane became a research scientist before she had had an ounce of secondary education. It wasn't until much later that she got her PhD.

For my friends who couldn't make it, I want to share Jane's message, which I found so inspiring I turned down a Salman Rushdie ticket later in the week (I didn't think I would be able to process everything). The following is a sample, and less eloquent synopsis, of what Jane said, as I remember it:

We're not separated from the animal kingdom, we're part of it. Between their constant evolution, and our own continual revolution into our animal nature, the line between 'us' and 'them' gets blurrier all the time. Chimps are our relations enough to us to give us blood transfusions, but we don't need to look that far to see that we are part of the animal kingdom. Anyone with a dog knows that animals have personalities, intellect, and feelings. So what is it that makes us different from the others? The main difference between us and chimps is this explosive intellect: language. It is our ability to talk about things that are not present: we can talk about the past, and plan for the future. Above all, we can discuss the issues and questions in our lives. And so, how is it, with the unbelievable and magnificent tool of language, how is it that we are destroying our home?

How? We've lost wisdom. The wisdom of religious ancients and elders, who asked, when it was time to make decisions, "How will this effect the community in the future?" and not "How will this effect me now?" or even "How will this effect my job? my country? in three months?"

(Verbatim): Do you think there's a disconnect between this clever brain and the human heart? Everybody cares about their children and grandchildren, but they act as if they don't. There's a disconnect. But we cannot live through a single day without making a difference. The question is not if you do, but what impact you're going to make. What do you eat and how do you eat it? What do you wear? How do you get from A to B? When you arrive, how do you talk to people? These are the choices that add up. 

Jane then talked about what brought her to leave research and teaching (which she loved) and become an activist surrounding environmental and social problems in Tanzania. You can read about her work here and here.

Of her hope and faith that we humans will manage to come around, and fix these massive environmental and social problems, she said, "Maybe I'm naive and simplistic, but it works for me." She also discussed how closely linked these two issues are: "Poverty," she said, "is one of the great destructors of the environment". Jane gave three talking points on hope, and I realized that my dad has been saying exactly these things for years, and I've always disagreed with him. 

Reasons to hope:

1. The human brain. We are innovative; we have a way of problem solving. We are not always good at it, but we manage, particularly when our backs are at the wall. 

2. The unbelievable resilience of nature. This has been a big one for my dad. The lesson hit home today when I was gardening at Eaton St, and was astounded to discover how nice and juicy Megan's soil is, with plenty of earthworms. Last year it was very crummy, but it's bounded back from only one year of planting. Sunflowers and mustard greens are actually capable of removing heavy toxins from the soil. Nature wants to help us help. 

3. Youth taking charge. Sounds cliche, but it's not when you hear a 76 woman who lived through the second world war utter the phrase "a critical mass of youth." She started a youth empowerment program called Roots and Shoots, which is worth reading about. 

But I don't want to talk about Jane Goodall in the vacuum of an evening of inspiring speech. It's not enough to be inspired; or, rather, inspiration comes as much from one's own hard work as it does from outside sources. I think my dad and JG are potentially right, but I also know that you don't make problems go away by looking at them. I know too many people--good people, smart people--who know what is happening to our world, but continue to complain and sit on their hands. And sitting on one's hands is not a passive act; it is a destructive one.

Living sustainably has been made very difficult for us to do. I buy in too--one would have to be a superhero not to--but I can also account for every hour of my day. When Jane asked us What do you eat and how do you eat it? What do you wear? How do you get from A to B? I knew that for the most part, I liked the answers I was able to give. I work hard to give them. I'm not a saint and I like my urban life. I don't think we have to give up urban life; we just have to change what it looks like. What it looks like. What it looks like.

The planet is going to go on with or without us, but if we are going to go on with it, because we love life, we need to make sacrifices. The green capitalist marketing campaign would have us all believe it's a simple matter of switching to the brand with the green label.  I promise you, it will not be that easy. We're going to have to get used to chopping wood for the winter, and we're all going to have to learn to grow a little food. We're going to have rely on our muscles, and on each other to get around.  Did you know that you can make toothpaste, shampoo, and laundry detergent (among other things you usually buy) at home, thus avoiding unnecessary packaging and a lot of nasty chemicals? All of these things take time, and are, by conventional perceptions, inconvenient as well, which means you will have less time for T.V., Nintendo Wii, and your soul sucking job. But if you can feed yourself, and warm yourself, you will find yourself naturally gravitating towards books, and there won't be a place in your life for a soul sucking job. And if you start doing any of these things for yourself, you will be astonished to find just how much you are capable of. All of us already have power. It's a question of whether we're brave enough to take it. 

At the end of the day, it doesn't matter if it's a chimp (named Jojo), a mouse, or a lot, but you have to ask yourself, what crumbs have I left on the table for the rest of my brethren?