I came out of the Choices for Sustainable Living meeting in Salida last Wednesday with a whole new array of thoughts attempting to organize themselves in my head. As I had anticipated, everyone sitting at the table all pretty much agreed with the idea that we must as a society work toward better sustainability. What struck me though were some of the responses to the very first and only question of the evening:

When it comes to sustainability, are you a pessimist or an optimist?

I had never thought about this before. I certainly have my moments of pure frustration with the whole issue, but overall, how could you live day to day without having a positive outlook on the future? As we circled around the table, most people were leaning towards the side of something like hopefulness which eventually crescendoed into clear optimism. Then, about half-way through the group the first serious pessimist bomb was dropped. My breath tanked to the bottom of my stomach. It is hard to describe the denseness of the negativity that this individual brought to the table. As contributions to the discussion continued to be made, more and more people spoke of their fears and doubts.

I certainly was not prepared for this. As mentioned in my previous post, I look forward to getting a hefty reality check from a totally scientifically backed-up nay sayer to the sustainability issue, but I certainly did not expect such a different perspective from folks batting for the same team. All of the other times I have been with groups discussing similar topics the conversation has, of course, considered all of the tough challenges facing our world today, but the outlook has always been constructive and action oriented.

With sincere concern in their faces, some of the participants began to talk about the potential of violence, lack, and illness that may be results of upcoming changes in our world. One woman mentioned Jared Diamond’s 2005 book, Collapse, where he presents compelling historical arguments for this theory. What she did not mention was that Diamond also offers several examples of an alternative, more optimistic perspective, also based on historical precedence.

I believe that we as Americans are obsessed with comfort and safety. We surround ourselves with products that are designed to make our lives easier and more convenient – processed foods, large automobiles (that are often used by only one person), heating and cooling powered by fossil fuels, home security systems, cell phones, car seat heat, TV for instant entertainment, bottled water, curb side trash pick-up, drive-thru Starbucks. Our reliance on these luxuries cause us to become unfamiliar with the experience of having to adopt to adverse conditions. Thus, one of our biggest subliminal fears is that we will lose these comforts. I don’t mean to criticize these comforts because I, too, would have a hard time adjusting to life without many of them. However, I do think that there are many wonderful aspects of life that have been slowly becoming erased from our experience while we isolate ourselves more and more by living in our comfortable dream.

My husband and I were very fortunate to have the opportunity to travel to South Africa several years ago. We stayed with friends in a comfortable white neighborhood where the homes were surrounded by ten foot walls topped with two foot high electrical fencing – the streetscapes were like three-sided concrete tunnels. For me it was the ultimate juxtaposition of the delineation between fear and comfort. It felt as if the homes were doing all they could to keep life itself outside their gates. The interesting thing was that outside of these homes were places of extreme poverty, illness, hunger, violence, and mass unemployment. Yet the people who lived outside these homes were some of the happiest people I have ever met in my life. Of the handful of individuals we got to know during our stay we found that most were very genuine, they loved to dance and sing, and they were incredibly tightly connected to their families and communities. I really felt that somehow they were able to rise above their extreme hardships to a place that in some ways exists far above what most Americans experience in their quality of life. I would not choose to exchange my way of life for theirs, but I certainly was profoundly impacted by what I learned of their approach to life in what we consider to be highly uncomfortable circumstances.

Recently we have been trying to remind ourselves what some of the experiences of life are outside of what we have blindly accepted to be the norm. It is amazing how much more of an opportunity you have to read, create, or think when you do not have your cell phone and email constantly turned on to interrupt you. Or, how nice it is to share a ride with friends going to the same event as you – it is a great time to reconnect with people.

The discussion being launched by this particular question of optimism and pessimism took the group in a unique direction that night, which I greatly appreciated. So often we focus on the statistics, the scientific evidence, the urgency, and the game plan rather than acknowledging one of the most primal forces working out our approach to these issues – that of how we feel internally.