Unpacked: A Walker Returns Home

Condolences to the Kranzler family, whose Ipod died on their way to work this morning.

The Kranzlers will be sitting Shiva, the seven customary days of mourning, in their Jerusalem apartment this week. All are welcome to hear stories of music and downloads, harmonies and instrumentals. 

May we pray together for resurrection of the dead, when man and his deceased machines will rejoice together in Zion.

So what does it say about our culture that we relate to stuff’s expiration, in the same language as we do our own?

“My pen died.” “My phone died.” My stuff, died. Yesterday, I told the mechanic that our car died. Died?

It makes me think. When our car dies, who mourns its loss? Us? Yet-to-perish Renaults? Do all cars begin to think about taking functionality for granted, and start saying to each other, “You know, it really makes you think…”?

How will our car be judged in heavenly court? As the vehicle that takes us dependably to work, that hosts us comfortably in its breast, and provides us with air conditioning and pretty music? Would it be damned for fuel inefficiency, as the Hybrids gallop by on their way to heaven? When confronted by God about climate change, will our car be able to say “I was just following orders?”

Another question: When rechargeable batteries die, what spiritual force reenters them through the socket in the wall, bringing them back to us again? Should we not call them Reincarnate-able Batteries instead?

I’m not sure what we’re implying when we speak of things dying. Is it that they are as important to us as living things? Do we not appreciate actual death?

It’s ironic, really, to use a human-defining ability like language to humanize things not human.

I’d like to think that speaking of things dying is just a coincidence. That it neither reflects nor influences our perception of objects, or our understanding of life.

But I worry that I’m wrong.

Is the chopping down of the trees that make my paper, as disturbing to me as the temporary death of my cellphone?

Am I that bothered when billions of creatures and their ecosystems are destroyed to provide space and fuel to give life to the objects I call my own?

And when I speak of things dying all the time, every day- when I can make them come back to life so easily by plugging them into the wall or getting them fixed- will I understand or feel pain, when real people suffer or are killed all over the world?

In any case, the Kranzlers are okay, despite their Ipod running out of battery on their way to work. In fact, they welcome you to come and listen to music on their newly reincarnated Ipod, who they now believe to be a Gilgul (reincarnation) of a Walkman.

Come come all, as together we’ll celebrate the genius of real, live humans, and enjoy their ability to create really, really great things.

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Seamus the Cat and I have always agreed to peacefully share our apartment’s bedroom/office space in the morning. I sit at the computer and work, he sits on the bed and sleeps. And we do pretty well, too. If either one of us needs to get up for a stretch, we usually even stop by and wish one another a quick hello.

But yesterday, it all fell apart.

You see, I got up to play the mandolin for a few minutes of break. Upon hearing the very first note, Seamus grumpily glared at me, got up, did a little yawn, slumped himself out of the room and found somewhere more quiet to sit.

I’m sure you can appreciate that it did not make me feel very good.

On the other hand, though, there’s the world.

You know, the world, us, you, everyone- people in general, who are doing pretty good, I think.

I spent a few hours yesterday sifting through a list of 50 environmental blogs, in order to create our Suggested Links column on Jewish Climate Initiative’s Climate of Change. And I encountered some pretty unbelievable sites and people and solutions:

There was The City Fix, a blog that explores sustainable solutions to urban mobility. I read about Kilmarnock, Scotland, which is instituting public buses that run on biodiesel made from used cooking oil.

How do you think passengers will pay for their bus? This is true- they will pay by bringing their used cooking oil. Had a stir-fry for dinner? Well you just earned yourself a bus ride. Cool, no?

Other favorites of mine included the high school kid that figured out how to biodegrade plastic bags, the Recycle This blog that tackles reusing/recycling things like old carseats and breadmaker pans, and the EcoGeek blog for EcoTechies.

An important blog, I thought, was the Climate Debate Daily, posting arguments both for and against combating climate change. It’s always valuable to learn from and engage with the other side, right?

For more great environmental blogs, click here for Climate of Change, and check out the column on the right labeled Bloggers Fixing the World.

No doubt that our potential as humans to harm the world has gotten bigger- Nukes, Climate Change, Global Food Crises- we can do more serious damage than ever, and we can do it very fast.

But like a pendulum, the farther we go down, the farther we can go up. And the truth is really that there are a lot of people out there coming up with creative solutions to help us all do Earth better.

And so, if this list of blogs is any indicator, then I’d say we really are in okay shape. Yup- I really think all the bad stuff is gonna have a very happy ending after all.

And as for Seamus and me? Well, I give him food. He’ll have to warm to my mandolin some day…

I’d like to Unpack this week with some quotes, from William Coperthwaite’s A Handmade Life: In Search of Simplicity.

So this is an important book. About breaking free from the over-stuff-ization that accounts for much of modern man’s struggles. I’ve been reading my sister Liron’s copy for a few months now, and Mr. Coperthwaite’s wisdom has been instrumental in helping me learn to Unpack the slowness and simplicity of the backcountry in my life in the city. Thanks Liron!

As you may recall, I apologized publicly to my kitchen knife a few months ago, after the knife complained of its woes in its kitchen drawer. Little did I know that Mr. Coperthwaite believes in apologizing to stuff, as well!

Says Mr. Coperthwaite:

“Have you ever had the experience of apologizing to an inanimate object? When we drop a cup and break it, we violate its nature. All things, be they living or inanimate, have their own nature, spirit, or essence. Whenever we come into contact with anything, we either promote or hinder that essential nature. Unless we seek to understand the nature of the things that surround us, we will be a hindrance rather than a help to our world.

“Developing sensitivity and awareness by searching for the basic nature of things is the road to understanding. When we drop and break a cup, we do violence to its spirit, its purpose, and to the work of the artisan who shaped it. We owe the cup an apology.

“Whether running a canoe aground, dulling a chisel on a nail, or puncturing a tire- instead of cursing, we owe an apology. You may respond that the object has no feelings. I would tend to agree with you. But apologies are both given and received, and the effect on the giver may be more important than the effect on the recipient.”

Mr. Coperthwaite brings some pretty incredible quotes with him in A Handmade Life, and while I’m already quoting, I’d like to share two of my favorites:

“You say, ‘Isnt it sad that a diamond, when seen to its essence, is nothing but common carbon?’ I say, ‘Isn’t it wonderful that common carbon, in its most developed form, is the finest of diamonds?’ You say, ‘Isn’t it sad that altruism, when seen in its basic structure, is nothing but base selfishness?’ I say, ‘Isn’t it marvelous that base selfishness, in its most enlightened form, is the purest of altruism?’”

-Pierre Ceresole (Swiss Engineer, 1879-1945)

And (You may recognize part of this quote from Liron Kranzler’s music/Doogree Records):

“When you work you are a flute

through whose heart the whispering

of the hours turns to music.

To love life through labor is to be intimate

with life’s inmost secret.

All work is empty save when there is love,

for work is love made visible.”

-Khalil Ghibran (Lebanese-American Poet, 1883-1931)

(I love that “work is love made visible” part. Kinda sounds like marriage…)

May our work open us up to what we already have,

A simple week to all,

Yannai

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