the Village Knittiot

Greetings from a grey and dreary Monday morning in Philadelphia. I always love spring days like this because, while they are quiet and slow, they are full of life and you can practically feel the insatiable thirst of newly sprouting vegetation and hear the singing of their happy plant songs. Rain makes everything new, and even in a dusty and dirty city spring showers make it all seem clean and fresh, even if only for a little while.

This weekend I spent a lot of time playing with my fleece and thinking about where it came from. I think that everyone makes their first fleece purchase in a bit of a fog. I did. No doubt about it. It was pretty. It smelled strongly sheepy (and I am one of those individuals who is head over heels in love with the earthy scent of lanolin and hay). It had good crimp and nice, long, soft locks. Other than knowing it was one of Betty’s sheep (as opposed to Esther’s) and that she lives somewhere in Massachusetts, I know nothing. I don’t know how she cares for her sheep. If she coats them in pesticides, pumps them full of antibiotics or even what she feeds them. I know that she does not name them and I felt vaguely cheated when I discovered that my fleeces were called R20, W09 and something else. With names like that, these sheep could have been extras in a George Lucas film. I was hoping for something pastoral and quaint like Penelope, Gertrude and Walter. This was my buyer’s remorse setting in, aided by the fact that the cold water wash left the materials a little dirtier than I would have liked and a little more greasy than I wanted.

At Maryland, I was a shopper on a mission. My goal was to find organic fiber sources, naturally-dyed yarns and other ecologically friendly businesses, but they were few and far between. I didn’t see any organic farms, which is not to say that they weren’t there, just that I didn’t see them. There were a few places selling naturally dyed yarns (and their colors, I might add, were just as rich and vibrant as any other yarns there). So now I look at my fleeces and I wonder about them and how they were raised and if they were dumped in sheep dip or or grazed on chemically treated grasses. And truthfully, at this point, there is no way for me to know. I have no connection to them or their owners other than a one-time cash transaction.

This is, when all is said and done, the way of our world. Other than the finished product, we have little connection with the sources of the materials required to make them. And in large part, the system is dependant on this ignorance. It is partially a practical thing — our lives are so full of “stuff” that to know where each came from and how it was ultimately assembled, packaged and shipped would be a full-time job. It is also easier to entice folks into consumption when they don’t have to face the reality of their consumer behaviors and the impact it has on the world at large.

This is the overwhelming vantage point from which we view change. We see an impenetrable machine of a system that is churning out products at an incredible rate. Products we need. Products we think we need. Products we want. And we are torn on some level. I know that I am. I have the same messages in my head that equate happiness with more things. And there are days (more than I would like to admit) when I feel sad and the immediate solution that comes to mind is buying something, anything really. Usually those purchases are disappointing, but it doesn’t stop the pattern from repeating. To believe we are immune from the powerful, all-consuming (pun intended) messages of our cultures is hubris of the highest order, and calls for some serious examination and analysis.

The opposite of over-consumption is total denial, and this is an impossible place to live. The reality of our existence is that we are consumers. We need food, water, shelter, clothing and socialization. We produce waste — both from our bodies and from our pursuit of the things we need to survive. These are the facts and to deny them is to deny our humanity. There is no such thing as zero impact — not for any creature. But the question remains, what do you do when consumption has gotten out of control, as it so clearly has? How can you approach your consumer status from a responsible and/or ethical space? And like most things, the answer is never simple. But it has been my experience in this life, that the things worth doing are rarely straightforward or paved with clear paths. If you don’t like where the road is leading, then the only thing to do is step off the beaten path and make your own. Because that is the only way you’ll ever get somewhere else.

Stepping away from the familiar is at first bewildering and disorienting. Maybe you don’t know where you are or even where you want to go. Thought, at this juncture, is equally as important as action. For me, everything begins with research. I read widely. I talk to people. I collect data. I sift through all the information. I draw conclusions. I test my hypothesis. I discuss, discuss, discuss.

I know we have talked at length before about the confusing nature of making changes that are greener, more ecologically aware and truly helpful to the environment. We have mentioned the myriad of interconnected factors that are completely out of our control. But confusing or not, it is worth wading through. Keep digging. Keep asking questions. Don’t stop until you are satisfied that you have enough answers to draw a conclusion. Sometimes this takes a long time. Sometimes the decision is quick and easy. Sometimes you will hit a dead end and need to chart a new course. Sometimes you will implement a change only to later gain some new information that will completely alter (or even reverse) your position. The point is to remain flexible, open and insatiably curious. Do what you can, avoid guilt and keep trying.

In the course of my research I have come across a number of interesting things and I thought I would try to share a few every week or so. Links and descriptions below…

Current Reading: The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan — a fascinating and detailed look at our current food system as seen from an analysis of four meals, straight from the source to the table. One section covers the current agrobusiness, big-food model and ends with a fast food meal. The next two meals are from organic farming models — one from a small, local organic farmer and the other from a big-business wholesaler, namely Whole Foods. And finally, the last meal (or as he describes it, “the perfect meal”) was hunted, gathered and prepared entirely by Pollan himself. If you are interested in reading an excerpt, Mother Jones has printed a section of it on their website right here: link. You can be sure that I will also be reviewing this on The Bookish Dark in the near future.

What can I do? (The question we all ask ourselves): Ask Umbra (brought to my attention by a reader) is an excellently thought out, well researched and rational column with regular advice about how to reduce our impact. She also has an FAQ list that tackles some of the important things you can do starting right now.

Sheepy Link of the Week: This is an excellent article written by Donna Druchunas (author of Arctic Lace) that talks about the state of organic and ecologically friendly fiber farming and processing. She addresses some of the inherent difficulties with obtaining certification and includes some balanced perspective along with a list of sources for organic and environmentally friendly wool and fiber processing. This article appears to be a couple of years old, but the information still seems quite accurate.

This entry was posted on Monday, May 15th, 2006 at 8:19 am and is filed under Summer of Knitting Naturally. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.