An earthship near the Earthship Biotecture World Headquarters (1 Earthship Way, Taos, NM 87571)
I have this dream, where I wake up in the morning to no other sound than leaves rustling in the breeze. I step onto the recycled barn wood floorboards that I laid down with my own two hands (with the help of friends), put on a robe and walk to the kitchen. On my way, I pass by the window that overlooks the garden and I think I’ll go out in an hour to see if any beans are ready. I don’t turn on the lights because I’m conserving the solar energy I’ve stored up over the past few days and besides, sunlight is already streaming in through the skylight. I cut myself a slice of homemade bread and spread it with blueberry preserves (made by my neighbor who swapped it for two bottles of milk from my goat) and think about what I’ll do today. There’s a lot: I’ve got gardening and laundry, and I have to pickle some of those veggies before they go bad. But I’m also going down to the county hospital to see some clients this afternoon (because in this fantasy I’ve already graduated from school and am a practicing occupational therapist). And I have to check the mail because I forgot to do that yesterday.
I don’t get that much junk mail any more because I don’t buy that much. My name and address has slipped off catalog companies’ lists. I don’t get utility bills any more because I harvest my energy. But there is one letter that arrives every month, without fail– it’s the bill from my educational loan company and it’s $1,200 a month.
And then *POP* just like that, my back-the-land bubble bursts. I rub the sleep from my eyes and blink: Ah yes, here I am. Back in Brooklyn, in school full time, pursuing a masters degree, racking up the loans.
THESE NEW OLD TRADITIONS 