1-2-3-hold 4—5-6-7 & 8. I listen to the familiar counting of musical phrasing as the ballet teacher marks through the choreography. My seven-year-old granddaughter is dancing in one of the beautiful studios in The Casa Del Prado of Balboa Park. Outside, where I wait, the clock tower chimes away, creating a counterpoint to the music coming from inside—reminding me of the dissonance in life itself.

           There are always plenty of interesting folks milling around the park. On our way today, a young man was pacing back and forth, fiddling with a small, flimsy piece of eucalyptus bark.

            “Shall we have a discussion about saving the planet?” he asked.

            “Well,” I began. “We’re going to dance right now. She’s got a ballet class.”

            He thought that was cool and as we walked away, I turned back and pointed to him. “But that’s a good dance too.” I was referring to his topic of interest and he agreed.

             Earlier this morning while on my way to pick up Kya, I caught the tail end of an interview on the radio with someone talking about how air pollution can exacerbate not only asthma, but eczema and other skin conditions—which can then lead to problems with our internal organs. She said that covering ourselves with clothing, applying mineral-based sunblock to all exposed areas, and wearing a mask when outside can help when the air quality is too smoky or polluted. Even the chemicals dumped on wildfires can be hazardous to our health.

            I suppose I already knew all this, but periodically being reminded is probably not such a bad thing. What will lead us to action? I am also guilty. I try to live my own life as sustainably as I can, however there is so much more I could do.

            Kya told me that we can pick up trash to make the earth better. Her next comment was that rivers run into the ocean. She was just throwing out random ideas to help me brainstorm for this column. But it is actually quite relevant in this context. Just as our capillaries and veins carry oxygen-poor blood back to our heart, the tributaries and rivers deliver man-made toxins into the oceans which merge with the waters of the whole world. We are all connected by air, water, and products… Like it or not, each one of us effects everyone else and vice versa. There really is no such thing as being separate, self-made, or truly independent. 

           The earth is still this majestically beautiful place. I feel so fortunate to be here, don’t you? Just to be a part of it all is such a gift—and a treasure.

            So, back to the dissonance of life. The chorus of the frogs here at night can be almost as loud as the planes flying over Balboa Park in their approach for landing at the San Diego Airport. But I’m pretty sure that most of us would choose the native chorus to the jet engines. The soaking of the recent rains gave much to our grateful ground and plants, while downtown San Diego’s failing storm drains caused major flooding. Yes, our dirt road suffers from the runoff, creating ruinous ruts. But, somehow, scrambling out there with shovels feels better to us than living with the open sewage which escaped the city systems.

Writing this column feels good to me—being both creative and productive simultaneously. I break up the task today by periodically checking the progress on the repairs to our vintage trailer awning, after a huge tree fell on it more than a month ago. I also need this kind of productivity for my well-being. I’m just wired that way. I struggle when things feel stagnant. It’s more work for me to just chill than to putter and get things done. This, too, is a work in progress.

            As the rain came down, I could almost sense the arrival of Spring—in all its splendor of fragrant lilacs, running creeks, and the singing of courting birds. There’s a feel of hope in the air of good things to come, and nice sunny days. Like today, I’m soaking up the rejuvenating warmth of the sun into my bones and smiling into the next thing. Life is good—so go enjoy it!

Chi Varnado has published six books including fiction, nonfiction and children’s books. They are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com.

           “Will I be creative and contribute to the development of the next generation, or will I be stuck in a self-centered rut?”

            It’s a great question—one that I took from Waldinger and Schulz’s book, The Good Life. And I think we all know, deep down inside, that true happiness does not come from getting more new stuff for ourselves, or looking ‘better’ than someone else. It really does stem from our altruistic involvement with others—whether they be people, animals, land, or plants. And I’m trying to keep this in mind as I proceed into 2024.

            How many of us have a true connection to the land around us? The dirt underneath where we live? The surrounding mountain ranges? The eclectic boulders that grace our Ramona valley? The quail scuttling through the fragrant sagebrush? The list is endless, but meaningless if we don’t take heart and continue to be grateful for our sacred planet earth. And learn to take care of this amazing gift.

           I’m aspiring to be more conscientious every day as I try to lessen my personal negative impact on the natural world. Small things like eating and buying responsibly, recycling, leaving no trace, leaving things better than I found them, purchasing used items when possible—and not so much plastic. The reasons behind these behaviors are well documented.

            At what point do we realize that we have enough? I think, often, when it’s too late. The more we have, the more we have to keep track of, and the stress of it all can snowball. Too much versus not enough. The key is balance, and to remember to be grateful.

            Another book which I’ve been enjoying is Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer. She brings up the importance of reciprocity. Bartering can be a form of reciprocity, as can buying produce from a local farmer. We are giving as we are taking. The lines get blurred when we purchase non-renewables from big box stores, or online from mega companies with complicated delivery systems. Yes—supposedly everyone is getting paid, but not all are compensated fairly for their efforts. And how might we thank the natural resources from which the products were made in the first place—so many, many steps before? If we bulldoze a pad for our future home without somehow giving back to the land itself, or getting involved with replanting native species, it creates an imbalance of reciprocity. The circle of giving and being grateful can benefit the well-being and longevity of our earth and each one of us who depend on it.  It’s just more rewarding to be mindful of our actions.

            My gratitude extends exponentially for the privilege of feeling nestled in my rural home amidst the natural habitat of the canyon. I not only have roots here, but this land has a strong hold on me. It can be hard to pull myself away, but also important for my perspective. Whether it be to take my granddaughter to ballet in Balboa Park, trips to the desert to hike desolate trails, vacations to visit distant relatives—they can serve to further my appreciation of this place as well as bring new ideas that might be beneficial here.

            I’ve had a recurring dream throughout my adult life where I’ve sold our place, and people who don’t seem to appreciate it are living here. I’m gut-punched and sick-to-my-stomach that I’ve let this happen. And I’m forever miserable. So, when someone says that I have this “asset,” it’s not that at all. I can never sell it. This is crystal clear to me. I am a steward to this land and forever in its debt.

            My New Year’s resolution is to practice more gratitude—every moment, every day—to infinity and beyond!

Chi Varnado has published six books including fiction, nonfiction and children’s books. They are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com.

           I don’t think any of us are in a community or group that is completely intentional. There’s a lot more at play than simply us choosing it. And I think the reasons go much farther back than we realize. Even prior to being born into our family, there were all the previous generations that helped to set our course. Then there are the people who we associate with and what becomes of that. Sometimes, because of our actions, we end up somewhere—like jail; or a certain university due to a scholarship; or we drift into something because of some friend, group, or belief that we simply follow without giving it much thought. We may think we are a self-made person, but that is not the whole truth.

            Anyway, the idea of intentional communities intrigues me. Off and on I’ve felt that we’ve had an evolving one here in our canyon over the years. I like the concept of working together and sharing resources with those around us and I’m drawn to learning more about them.

            We just returned from the Southeast where we visited friends and family. Also on our itinerary was a stop at Cranmore Meadows Tiny House Intentional Community in Haw River, North Carolina. Nathan graciously showed us around the rural property even though he and his wife, Callie, had just brought their newborn baby home from the hospital the night before. He displayed a wealth of knowledge and enthusiasm about the natural habitat of the area and building with sustainable materials. All of it clearly excites him. They’ve hosted workshops where an expert comes in and leads hands-on demonstrations for interested volunteers who learn and assist in the creations. They also try to work with the natural lay of the land to determine how and where to build or not build. I wish all new construction would take this more integrative approach, since it tends to fare better in regards to sustainable living. Making use of natural light with well placed windows, orienting as well as using more earthen materials, can lessen the constant need for heating and cooling, for example.

            For me, a certain kind of joy happens when I can succeed in living more in tune with the natural environment. It can foster creativity which almost always brings a little happiness. Whether it’s picking out our eclectic wardrobe at thrift stores and yard sales or sewing it ourselves; utilizing castoffs found along the side of the road for our yard art or furniture; or getting new ideas from walking around someone else’s neighborhood—it’s pretty fun. And doesn’t the most fun come from the things that more of us can get pleasure from, instead of just ourselves? Including the plants and animals?

            What makes you come alive? What makes you vibrate with life? I love hearing the owls in the predawn hours through my bedroom window. Could it be a lifestyle change? Or saying “yes” to more things which take us outside our comfort zone? Perhaps it’s rocking out in the kitchen to our favorite song… Living in the present as much as we can helps us feel more awake and alive!

            So, I ask: what’s next for you? Or—better yet—what about now?

Chi Varnado has published six books including fiction, nonfiction and children’s books. They are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com.