Gift Economy

One of the big things I want to explore, and haven't had much time to do so yet, is the concept of the "gift economy." Kristin got me started in it, and she's taking it to the next level with her NVC work. She put it very well in a recent blog entry: "Our cultural expectation of "what the Earth can do for us" reflects our transactional and monetary-based (time is money) [economy] rather than a need-based, giving economy which includes both short and long term needs of all species and the earth, to the best of our understanding." I've requested a book on it or something like it by a Chilean economist quoted in Marshall Rosenberg's work: , but the book hasn't arrived yet. In the meantime, Kristin pointed me to Tree Bressen's website: , where I found this quote: "According to "Wikipedia: " (which is a fine example itself) a gift economy is an economic system in which participants give away things of value to the shared benefit of the community. Examples include food banks, volunteer fire companies, and giving rides to hitchhikers."

Basically, the concept is that you give your services or goods away for free, from the heart. During the transaction, you point out that it takes an amount of your own energy to provide this, and, in order for it to be sustainable, you need to receive gifts in return. As Tree puts it, "I am currently operating on a gift economy basis, meaning i do not have any set fees for my work. I ask groups to pay me an amount that feels good and right and fair to them, that they can afford, and that they can give joyfully."

This flies in the face of our current economic model, which expends a great deal of energy to assign the price to goods and services that will produce the greatest profit to the producer, assuming in the process that a certain percentage of the people who want or need the product will then be unable to afford it. The implication is that it is not only acceptable, but good and moral, to accumulate far more than you need, and hoard that accumulation in the most wasteful way, if desired.

It seems to me that our current economic model is very self-centered, and in practice it tears at the fabric of our human community and society, while at the same time, it ignores the effects of our actions on the planet's web of life, which we depend on for everything. By placing greater value on competition (power-over) than on sharing, on accumulation than on need, it also encourages violence and frequently makes violence enjoyable. This is not the intent, but competition, but its nature, encourages actions that hurt the other players. It makes actions that provide a short-term advantage despite a long-term disadvantage look attractive. Besides, when one person has way more than she can use, and another person is starving, violence is easily seen as a convenient means to meet needs.

The success of capitalism is frequently seen as making the model of communism obsolete. Now, the gift economy shows real prospects of making the traditional capitalist model obsolete.

Kitty Piercy vs. Jim Torrey

The last three years have been good ones here in Eugene, with the leadership of our mayor, Kitty Piercy. The atmosphere seems lighter, more easy and free. Kitty does a good job of balancing the needs of the economy and the environment. She has a pretty darn good sense of priorities. She's led us to some really good choices, in the Strategic Plans for sustainability, bicycle and pedestrian traffic, and so on. I haven't heard her speak of it, but I have the feeling that she understands Peak Oil.

In contrast, Jim Torrey stands as the tool of big developers. As far as I can tell, he wants government to help most those that need it least. He's shown no sign that he's ever even heard of Peak Oil, much less understands it. And his war chest shows it. Sure, he's a nice guy, but his policies benefit only the smallest, richest demographic.

My biggest concern, however, is not Jim's economic disabilities. It's more personal than that. It is that I really want to live in a welcoming, safe community.

You see, Jim Torrey has so little understanding of transgendered people that he opposes my right to use the women's restrooms. "What's to stop some young man in a high school from coming to school one day, and in his mind, his perception is today he thinks he's more female-oriented than male?" Excuse me? Gender identity isn't something you switch on and off at will. I wish it were – life would be a lot easier. Gender identity is who you are.

Meanwhile, if I wander into a men's room, I stand a significant chance of physical violence – not to mention the extreme discomfort of even being there.

Fortunately, Oregon state law provides some protection. Torrey's not going to make something like that happen in Eugene. And he certainly won't do anything to me directly, though he may try to get me fired from the city staff. So why should I fear for my safety?

It is because leadership has powerful influence on the people underneath. It is because leaders choose like-minded people to serve as their assistants. It is because, when the atmosphere shifts at the top from one of acceptance to barely tolerant or intolerant, it shifts beneath, as well. Not for everyone, of course, but enough to make my life, and the lives of my family, a little more uncomfortable, and perhaps enough that one person who lives at the edge of violence will choose to go over it, knowing that the victim of his anger is at best barely tolerated by the figurehead of the city.

Besides, a lack of understanding usually doesn't lead to greater understanding, and I'd like to be understood.

Please, everyone, vote for Kitty. She's the best choice for mayor of Eugene, no matter how you cut it.

She Should Write a Book...

Some blogs are better than others, and some blog entries really stand out. Okay, maybe I'm biased. And granted, she's preaching to the choir when I'm reading her stuff. Still, this one is profound in its compassion and meaning for our world. How grateful I am I live with her!

Part of me wishes I'd written this, or something like it; but it's her story, not mine. I have a different message, a different track, and as much as I respect and honor hers, I'll keep to mine. Stay tuned.

Another MoveOn Move

Okay, here's another one of MoveOn.org's email links. This one's a little quiz to link McCain & Bush. The manipulation is blatant and irritating. Unfortunately, it also seems pretty much on the money. Not that McCain would be as bad as Bush – I think…

At least he's open about wanting to continue to occupy Iraq for the rest of all our lives.

Go, Obama!

2008 Oregon Primary Election Endorsements

Eugene City Mayor: Kitty Piercy. Easily the best choice. She has taken significant strides to start dealing with the major issues our city faces, such as Peak Oil – issues Jim Torrey hasn't paid much, if any, attention to in his former term(s). She also has a much better record on human rights.

Eugene City Council, Ward 7: Andrea Ortiz

Democrats:

Secretary of State: Kate Brown. Vicki Walker's good, too.

US Senator: Jeff Merkley. But it's close between him and Steve Novick. I almost want to do a co-endorsement for them.

President: Obama. Nice as it would be to see a woman in the White House, we really need some new thinking. Hillary's been hammered by the RSM for too long, and too hard. She needs some time to recover and adjust to a new role in the majority before she'll be ready to take on the office of presidency. Her experience as First Lady and in office is exactly what makes her unready at this time – contrary to her rhetoric. Obama has a much greater chance of uniting the country and formulating new strategies to deal with the crises at hand.

Republicans:

US Senator: Gordon Leitch. We really do need to get rid of Gordon Smith.

Mostly, I recommend that Republicans reconsider their positions. Read Unequal Protection, Screwed: the Undeclared War on the Middle Class, and What Would Jefferson Do?, by Thom Hartmann. Read about Gandhi. Learn about Nonviolent Communication. Forget hollow economic theory by folks such as Ayn Rand and Friedman, and learn how economics actually works by reading folks like Paul Krugman and Paul Omerud. Get to know some queer folks, and reflect on how much better it would be if none of us were oppressed. Meet some folks with dark skin, and reflect on how much closer in values and interests they are to you, compared to the filthy rich corporate lawyers and and multi-national oil and weapons executives who determine policies for the GOP. Learn to recognize the sly manipulation and divisive media tricks the RSM uses, so that you can join with the rest of us to create a new system that meets everyone's needs.

George Washington’s First Cherry Tree

Okay, so it wasn't George Washington, it was Trinidad. And it wasn't a cherry tree. If it was, we would have kept it. It was the tree out front that we've been planning on removing for some time, to make room for trees that grow nuts or fruit. It was also the only tree in the front yard that Trin likes to climb. He's been steadfastly and passionately opposed to cutting it down. In fact, he extracted a promise from me that I wouldn't cut it down without telling him, which kept the tree alive on at least two events and for well over six months.

Until now.

"Trin, we were thinking about chopping down that tree out front…"

Mutinous lower lip protrusion.

"… and we were wondering if you'd like to do it."

Lip retracts, thoughtful expression.

"Okay."

I was going to put if off, since it was getting late. Kristin, more wise, said, "There's enough light out still. Why don't you do it now?"

So out we went, newly-sharpened hatchet in hand. And Trinidad cut down his first tree, with half the neighborhood kids watching.

It took awhile.

Trin even allowed his little brother to take 17 chops, carefully counted, with the hatchet – which, believe me, didn't remove a whole lot of wood.

And the tree we wanted gone – is finally gone. No lies necessary.

Beltane

Yesterday was Beltane – mid-spring, halfway between the vernal equinox and the summer solstice. I took the day off work and celebrated.

Beltane is a pagan holiday, and I'm not really pagan, so we celebrated in our own quiet way. We went for a walk in the woods, bringing along lunch and some sacks to gather nettles in. Didn't find enough nettles to harvest any, but it was a great trip anyway. We wandered deep into the lush Northwestern forest, where Douglas fir and cedars towered high above, little birds singing in their branches. We walked on moss, among big sword ferns and fields of shamrocks dotted with blooming trillium. The boys and the dog ran wild, exploring the woods with eyes and nose full of wonder. When Sam ran out of steam, we made our way back to the highway and home.

By sheer luck, we got home just as the bus dropped off our neighbor's kid. The boys ran over to their house and Kristin and I went inside and had a nap.

Pure bliss.

We finished up the day with inviting some friends over for a feast – split pea soup over potatoes, kale flowers from our garden, asparagus, and pork ribs (Beeler's, not quite organic but hormone and anti-biotic free, raised not in tiny cages but in pens that are, hopefully, at least halfway decent places to live). Our friends brought wine, a Malbech from Italy – new, but good. It was all good.

There wasn't a Maypole, but, all in all, I'd say the goddess was pleased.

Jimi Hendrix as Moral Choice

"Authoritarian parents … not only offer minimal opportunities for children to choose, but tend to treat matters of taste or personal style as if they were moral issues with a single right answer – an answer that must, of course, be provided by the parent." Alfie Kohn, in Unconditional Parenting, p. 180.

When I read this, I felt a sudden hollow ache in my solar plexus. It went beyond emotional, to physical sensation. The pain that came up surprised me in its intensity. I hadn't realized how much hurt, how much resentment and anger and grief still remain, buried deep inside me.

When I first heard Jimi Hendrix's fantastical guitar licks, way back around 1971 or so, when I was 11, I was blown away. It touched my soul, and still resonates deep inside. (I'm listening to him now, as I have many times when emotional pain rears its ugly head.)

My dad viewed it as a personal affront, not just a difference in taste - a deeply immoral offense, perhaps akin to shoplifting, or giving drugs to children. He liked Hank Williams, Sr., and clearly expected me to do the same. The music that rocked my world was viewed as my choice to totally reject everything good and honest and pure.

I couldn't choose my clothes. My haircut. My glasses. If I resisted, it was not a matter of personal taste, but a moral decision akin to choosing evil.

He showed no sense of curiosity about who I was, no interest in me as my own person. I had the sense I was created to allow him to vicariously live the childhood he wished he'd had.

And my god, it hurt. It still hurts. It hurts with a deep dull ache that will not go away.