To Dream of Less Energy - Quality of Life and Energy Consumption

Energy consumption makes all things possible.  It allows us to extend our lives into the nighttime hours, it allows us to keep our homes warm or cool, it allows us to freeze food for preservation, or get it piping hot it in about a minute.  Energy, in all its forms, is the foundation of our civilization.  If an era is defined by the predominant technology (the stone age, the bronze age, the information age), then we are living, and have been for about a century, in the age of fossil energy: coal for electricity, oil for transportation.  Information Technology itself would be impossible without abundant energy, and right now the only technology we have that can provide the amount of energy needed with the consistency required is mostly coal (there is a smattering of other: hydro-electric, nuclear, natural gas, but all of them together are less than a third of coal).

There are two primary problems with this system: resource and waste.  The inputs, the raw materials, the oil pumped form the ground and coal dug out of mountains, are limited.  They are finite resources that we will one day run out of.  You can argue about when, about how much time we have left to keep burning through those resources, but you cannot argue about the fact that one day the wells will all be dry, the last heap of dirt will be devoid of useful coal.

The second problem, waste, is manifold.  When these fuels are extracted, the process often involves polluting massive amounts of water and damaging land in a way that will not be repaired for generations.  When the fuels give up their energy in combustion, they release several compounds that are degrading to the environment.  CO2, Nitrogen- and Sulfur-Oxide compounds, and particulates take their toll on air quality, and various partially combusted hydro-carbons foul our streams and water-ways.

It is almost inconceivable that we could live up to our current standards without energy, and equally inconceivable, given current technology, that we could produce enough renewable energy to replace all of the fossil energy we use.  That is why I am dreaming of less.

Technology holds many answer to a future of less energy, but human behavior is equally, if not more important. I dream of a culture that values the energy it uses in an emotional way, not just in price per kWh; where daylighting and passive cooling are as valuable to a home buyer as granite counter tops once were.

I dream of a society in which people care where their power comes from, how it got to them, and what happens in between and afterward.  Where people see a light bulb burning and think, even just once in a while, about what it means that they can run their homes into the night, keep their produce cold 24-7, turn the thermostat up or down on a whim. Where people care not just about having energy, but the kind of energy they have.

A revolution in our energy production is still a long, long way off, but a cultural revolution, or at least a cultural shift in the way we perceive energy is already under foot.  What was once a vanguard is edging into the mainstream, and today more than ever people care about energy.  Not just that they have it, but where it comes from too.  We are still a long way from a culture where everyone cares about energy, and is concerned with reducing energy consumption, but a change in the culture that uses the energy can be much, much quicker than a change in the infrastructure that delivers it.

Dreaming of Less Driving - Car Free Living

Eugene Area Bike Paths

Driving, as you probably already know, is not fun. Biking, on the other hand, is.  Driving is not relaxing, walking is.  Driving is not healthy (being essentially sedentary and stressful, it is about as healthy as a desk job), both walking and biking are.  I have been dreaming of driving less (or ideally not at all) for a long time, and slowly working to achieve that dream.

Now that Courtney and I live in a highly walkable neighborhood, in the middle of a very bike-able city, we have been seriously considering a car free lifestyle, and how we could drive so little that it would cost less to rent than to own.  There would be some bike related expenses (a Burley trailer, e.g.), but the revenue from selling the car would more than cover them.  We would need to plan any required car trips carefully in advance, and sign up for a benefits program with a car rental company (Eugene does not currently have an affordable flex-car program).  But mostly, we would have to get accustomed to building just a little more travel time into our daily schedule.

Carport of the Future

We have some experience with this already, as we have been biking and walking as often as possible since we moved last April.  A little over a month ago, we began keeping a log of how often we actually use the car.  So far, the car has been used approximately 2 times a week, and most of those trips could have been avoided with better planning.  About half occurred when we were running late and decided to drive to save a few minutes.  For the rest, it was logistically easier to use the car (though it would have been possible to make other arrangements for most of them).  So basically, most of the time it was laziness or carelessness that led us behind the wheel, which leads us to conclude that if the car just wasn't there, we would be forced to plan better.

As long as we can combine several trips into a day and hold our automobile use down to about two or three days per month, renting a vehicle for those trips is actually much less expensive than paying insurance and maintenance on a vehicle (we pay the gas either way).  We also get the added benefit of always driving a car in perfect repair, and having the option to choose more fuel efficient vehicles as soon as they are available.  In fact, it might not be long before rental companies are offering electric vehicles.  In a way, this means we can vote for the most efficient vehicle as often as possible.

There a number of problems that having a car seems like the best solution to, but car ownership brings a whole mess of problems of its own.  By avoiding the need for a car as much as possible, and renting on the few occasions that it is really necessary, we hope to avoid all of the problems of car ownership, save money on insurance and maintenance, and reduce our carbon footprint all in one fell swoop.

To Dream of Less Stuff

Stuff, it sometimes seems, is who we are.  We produce it and measure our worth in its production.  We buy and sell it and measure our success in its exchange.  We own it, use it and replace it, and measure our happiness in its possession and acquisition.  We often confuse obtaining more stuff with bettering ourselves, so new stuff becomes equated with self-improvement.
And yet, if all that is true, we seem to be ignoring some important parts of ourselves.  What does it say, for example, that so much of our stuff is disposable?  Having no longevity, no staying power, sacrificing quality for convenience.

What does it say that we have so much stuff built for one and only one purpose?  Our kitchens and closets are cluttered with highly specialized gadgets, many of which are used only once a month, or even once a year. I don't doubt the convenience of a food processor, but do we need a blender, an immersion blender, a food processor, a juicer, a mortar and pestle, a mandolin, spice grinder, coffee grinder, and a Magic Bullet?  Every house has an oven, yet we feel the need to augment this with a toaster oven, microwave, bread maker, crock pot, and pressure cooker.  Any one of these items is perfectly reasonable, but is it reasonable to have all of them?

What does it say about us that we always want everything to be brand new?  As soon as something develops its first nick or mar, it begins to bother us, to weigh heavily on our subconscious as if the mar were a blemish on our very souls.  Nothing we own is allowed to have any history, any meaning beyond itself.  Nothing is allowed the taint of a previous owner, nor any significance beyond its immediate purpose.

In the last month, I have come to realize that it is exceedingly rare that we actually need new stuff.  When we challenge our selves just a little, we find that we can use things which are marred, we can fix things which are broken, we can buy things which have been owned by a stranger before us, and we can even make smoothies and pesto without a Magic Bullet.  Most amazing of all, when we challenge ourselves, we find that sometimes, we can even do without.

Just as I have been dreaming of less for so many other things, I have been dreaming of less stuff.  Less clutter, less trash, less hassle, less mess.  I have been dreaming of things which serve many purposes, eliminating the need for other stuff.

I have been dreaming of buying everything used which can be bought used.  I dream not just of less stuff in my home, but in the human world as a whole, and second hand goods eliminate the need for more new stuff.  In a sense, an item can be divided by the number of people who have owned it, so that I own 1/5 of a couch, 1/4 of a dining set, 1/3 of a coffee table, 1/6 of an armchair.

I have been dreaming, longingly, of storage spaces that are clearly organized, free of clutter, full without being stuffed.  I dream of all my spaces being clear of stuff, the surfaces in my house being almost empty when not in use.  I dream of having one of everything I need and none of anything I don't.

I dream of a life which is occupied by a small amount of highly useful, durable, beautiful stuff that I love to use, to look at, to care for.  I dream of meeting my every need with as little material as possible, and not coveting that which I do not need.  I dream of a home in which all of my stuff improves my quality of life, and anything which does not is banished forever from my home.

Courtney and I have been moving actively toward this dream for some time now, and after many purges of stuff followed by periods of buying nothing new, we have achieved a level of stuff which is well bellow average, but there is much work left to be done before we are living the dream that we are dreaming.  The journey, so far at least, has been liberating and joyous, and the less we use to meet our needs (both real and invented) the better we feel about our stuff.

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Nothing New except October: Unprocessed

As the sun sets on my Month of Nothing New, it dawns on October: Unprocessed.  The last month went by rather quickly and uneventfully in terms of my challenge, and after thinking it through, I have decided that one month of making no new purchases (excluding food and medicine) is just too easy.  It was not really a challenge at all.  There were a few minor hiccups, but not one real sense of sacrifice or brilliant solution to a difficult problem.  In short, it was not the fodder for good writing that I had hoped it would be.  All this has led me to the conclusion that I should extend the challenge, keep it going for perhaps six months.  In half a year, I am bound to run into a number of problems that force me to consider breaking the rules, and probably doing it at least once.

Take the Pledge!  Learn More Here.

In the next month, however, I will focus on the October: Unprocessed pledge, and so I will probably be writing a little more about food.  Two things cropped up in September, however, that I felt it would be inappropriate to post in my month of nothing new, so keep your eyes open this October for news about the Unprocessed Pledge and a special treat for my readers.  As I promised at the beginning of last month, the next installment of To Dream of Less will be out soon.  Also, if you don't know about October: Unprocessed, check it out!  Click on the logo above, take the pledge, you still can, join up any time in October and finish the month with Eating Rules, myself, and about 30 other bloggers who have taken the Pledge and agreed to write about it on Andrew Wilder's site.

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Nothing New -- Courtney and I Vow to Make No New Purchases for One Month

While turning over the Dream Of Less in my head and discussing it with my like minded wife Courtney, we developed a little challenge for ourselves: purchase not one new item for an entire month.  At the end of the month, I hope to write the next installment of the dream: To Dream of Less Stuff.  Also, if the month goes better than expected, maybe we will extend the challenge for an even greater period of time.  For the first installment, however, we will begin on September 1, and attempt to buy nothing new until October 1.

Of course, a challenge like this would be meaningless without some clearly defined terms, some ground rules, and some expectation up front of a reasonable amount of failure.  So I describe for you now the plan:

• First: food is not counted here, for obvious reasons.  What is counted, however, is any kitchen utensil, crockery, flatware, or other durable good associated with the preparation of food.
• Second: semi-durable and disposable goods do count, including napkins, towels, clothing, shoes, kleenex, etc.  Also counted are things purchased for us in the process of a service we pay for, such as car maintenance.
• Third: Cleaning products are to be avoided unless absolutely necessary.  We will try to use what we have sparingly, and find alternatives (vinegar and baking soda, e.g.) when we run out.
• Fourth: items essential to health care (medicine, bandages) for both ourselves and our pets do not count at all.  I will not put myself, my wife, or any of our furry children in harms way for this or any other experiment.
• Fifth: "new" shall be here defined as anything which is not previously owned, not re-purposed or recycled, not refurbished or re-anything-ed in any way.
• 6th: when the need for some stuff arises, we shall follow this rubrick for satisfying the need:

1. Try to repair the broken stuff (reuse/repair)
2. See if we can make something else work for the same purpose (re-purpose)
3. Try to borrow or barter for it
4. Try to find it used or refurbished
5. Reconsider if we can do without it
6. Finally, break down and buy it new

However, if we get all the way to step 6, I am hereby bound to write a blog post about the item and the process of trying to achieve steps 1 through 5.

I think that about covers it.  I can tell you right now that at some point we will fail, and most likely because of my wife's car, which we are in the process of fixing up to sell.  But the failures are an anticipated part of the experiment, and we will not be deterred by a few set backs.

The purpose of this exercise is to actively monitor the amount of stuff we buy, and the amount of waste that we generate, and furthermore attempt to actively reduce those categories.  I am very optimistic that we will achieve some success in this endeavor, and I hope against hope that you will find this either a little inspiring or least somewhat entertaining.  Either way, I am really doing this for your benefit, so you better read!

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To Dream of Less Space

My wife is designing a very tiny house on a very tiny lot for her studio project this term, so both of us (because she has to bounce every idea and every design choice off me, sometimes to the point of driving me crazy) are thinking right now about the least amount of space you could possibly fit a family into.  I have the unusual benefit of growing up in a house that is, by American suburban standards at least, minuscule.  The house in Laguna Beach that my father designed and built is located on a little wedge of land that was divided from a larger lot.  Also, the wedge is mostly on a steep hill, with just a little flat area at the street.  My parents fit a family of five into that postage stamp space and still had plenty of room leftover to play host to a surprising number of friends and family on special occasions.

When I was younger, perhaps to compensate for having less personal, private space than some of my friends, I would dream of one day living in a mansion.  I imagined having a huge living room, dining room and kitchen to entertain.  I dreamed of having collectible cars in an over sized garage.  I wanted a big bedroom with a walk in closet and big bath room with walk in shower.  All of this would be nestled, of course, in enormous and multi-layered private gardens.  Basically, I wanted to be Bruce Wayne.  But hey, I was 15, what do you expect?

The older I get, though my dreams don't get any smaller, the size of my house in my dreams does.  This is due, at least in part, to the location of my dream home.  Once nestled in layers of private gardens, perhaps in some coastal town yet undiscovered by the relentless developers of CA, my dream home has packed its bags and moved to the center of a big city.  It has lifted itself off the ground, and found its way into the upper floors of a low rise building.  As such, it has of necessity folded in upon itself, sacrificed some extra space, doubled up purposes of other spaces, and generally shed a few pounds (even as I gain a few).  The gardens have been replaced with public parks, the garage full of fancy cars completely sacrificed, and the over-sized rooms scaled down to average human size (and sometimes even below average).

When you have space, you feel the need to fill it with things.  Nature abhors a vacuum, as my father is fond of quoting, and when you have more space than you need, you will fill it.  If you did not need the space in the first place, then it stands to reason that you will not in any real sense need the stuff that you find to fill it.  So the question that we should ask ourselves is "how much space do I need?"  No one seems to ask this question these days.  Instead everyone seems to ask "how much space could I use?"  And the answer to that question is almost always another question, "how much space can I afford?"

You could use more space.  We all could.  I could have an exercise room, a home office, a pool, a home theater, a game room.  And if I had them, I would use them.  Of course, if I lived in a city of any size, it would have a movie theater, a pool hall, a gym.  If I lived in a large enough residential building in an urban area, it is likely that my building would have half of these amenities that I covet.  So I have to ask, do I need any of these things?  Another important question: how much would it cost me to have all that space, to fill it with the associated stuff, and to maintain it?  Is the value that I would get out of that extra space equal to how much it would cost me?  The answer is almost certainly no.

Space and stuff are directly linked, as well.  In every home, a certain percentage of the space is devoted entirely to storage.  Linen closets, clothes closets, cabinets, shelves, chests, armoires, and don't forget garages, which are usually equal parts car park and storage for random junk that you can't stand to look at inside of your living spaces.  If you have less space, it follows that you will need to have less stuff.  There are few feelings more liberating than getting rid of stuff that (after considering it) you realize you just do not need.

And so I have been dreaming, instead of more space, of having just enough.  Just enough to be happy, to feel content and uncluttered, to have some privacy and full utility, but just that much and no more.  I dream of having that space in a context, in a place that is as important to me as the space itself.  I dream of loving a city, a neighborhood, a building, and my space within each of those contexts as well as loving the space for itself.

I dream of having storage that restricts me from accumulating stuff I don't need.  I dream of a space in which every object has a purpose and a place.  I dream of a space so well utilized that a single useless object feels like a burden not worth bearing (I'm looking at you, waffle maker).

I dream of spaces that feel bigger than they are.  I dream of spaces with double and triple uses, in which each use feels so appropriate and right that you couldn't imagine any other.

In short, I dream of maximizing utility and harmony, of wedding efficiency with comfort.  I am asking myself this question: 'how much space do I need to be happy, healthy, and sane,' and I hope to find the answer.

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To Dream of Less Oil

 From Wikimedia Commons

I think everyone in the USA can sympathize with this dream right about now.  With a tropical storm looming over the collection operations, we are all dreaming of less oil in the gulf, in the ground, in the water, everywhere.  But timely discourse aside, dreaming of less oil is a very appropriate place to begin a series of discussions about the dream of less.

We use oil for everything.  Primarily, we burn it to move everything around, but some of the oil is used to make the plastics that we package everything in, the lubricants that grease the wheels, and the synthetic fertilizer that grows our food.  So when I say everything, take a minute to look around you, I mean EVERYTHING.  If it came from someplace that you couldn't walk to (or it is too heavy to carry), it used oil.  If it came wrapped in plastic, Styrofoam, or both, it used oil.  If it grew in a conventional farm, it used oil.  When you really think about how much we use oil, how pervasive it is, using less of it seems a little like free diving.  You can do it, sure, but you have to come up for air eventually.

Lets put plastics aside for a moment and talk about the oil that we burn.  Everyone owns a car, right?  I think it is a requirement of citizenship in this country.  I don't care how great your MPG is, unless your car is fully electric you burn oil every time you drive.  Hybrids are great and all, but driving a hybrid is not nearly as effective at reducing your oil consumption as walking anywhere that is close enough instead of driving.  The next best alternative is riding a bike, third is public transit.  But not everyone has these options.


The trouble is, most of us need oil to conduct our daily lives.  Our towns and cities, our lifestyles, our entire culture is built around the personal automobile, and for many giving up their car would be equal to giving up their access to the entire world.  Unless you live on a self sustaining farm, which you likely don't, or live in a city with excellent public transit and walk-ability (which you well might: SF, NYC, Boston), your car is an essential part of your survival, getting you to and from the grocery store, work, school, and everything else.

But still, we can dream.  And wanting a better situation is the first step to attaining it, so I am dreaming of a life that does not burn oil.  I dream of walking or biking to work, and not owning a car at all.  I dream of a commute so short that driving would be ridiculous.  I dream of living in a city with top notch public transportation, whether that means moving or advocating public transit where I live.  I dream of a network of electric trains (both local lines and high speed rail), trams, trolleys and buses, eliminating the need for automobiles and airplanes (domestically at least).

I dream of living in a neighborhood that has everything I need within a 15 minute bike ride.  I dream of walking to a Farmer's Market, a bakery and a butcher shop, all in the same trip.  I dream of a life in which a trip of 20 miles feels like an excursion into unfamiliar territory.

I dream of living in a community that is rich enough and prolific enough to provide everything I need.  I dream of never buying another Chilean berry, Mexican tomato or middle eastern date.  Of buying furniture, new or used, from local shops and local individuals.  Of things made with local resources utilizing local labor.

Much of this is a long way off, but some is attainable very soon.  Courtney and I are most likely moving to Portland next year, as the University of Oregon has a satellite campus there, and it is a wonderfully walkable and bike-able city.  We won't be selling our car the day we arrive, a new lifestyle must be tested and eased into, not jumped into blindly, but we hope to use our car less immediately, to burn a lot less oil.

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To Dream of Less: A New Operating System for the American Dream

People talk a lot about the American Dream.  There are a few different versions, but I think at the core is making something of your situation that is better than what you were given.  When you try to pin down what that translates to in the real world however, the answer is almost always 'stuff.'

A three bedroom home with a two car garage.  A new car.  A bigger car.  A faster car.  Lots of cars basically.  A riding mower.  A space in the house that is just mine.  A space in the house to work.  A space in the house that is just yours.  A space in the house for the kids.  More Space, in other words.  A pressure cooker.  A new microwave.  A bigger Barbecue.  A professional cook for weeknights.  A better vacuum.  A new dishwasher.  A maid that comes twice a week.  A cleaner life with more convenience.  A bigger TV.  A smaller computer.  A bigger laptop.  A new phone.

Each time we achieve one of these goals, it seems that very shortly we find ourselves having exactly the same goal once again.  I have a flat screen, LCD HDTV, I want a bigger one.  I have an iPhone 3G, I want the new 4G (or whatever, 6G, 7Q, 10JT) as soon as it is available.  I have a moderately fuel efficient car, I want an electric vehicle.  The trouble is, I know for a fact that each time I acquire one of these things I will quickly tire of it and want something newer/bigger/faster to replace it.

Recently, I have been dreaming of less.  I dream of wanting less.  I am not living the dream, not yet, but I am dreaming it.  I dream, instead of a new car, of having no car at all.  I dream of living in a place where I can walk to work, walk to the grocery store, walk to a restaurant, pub or theater, and walk to a  public transit line for everything else.  I dream of no car insurance, no car maintenance, no gas prices, no car washes, and mostly no driving.  I hate driving.

I dream, instead of more space, of just enough space.  I dream of having no storage, and being forced to get rid of everything I can't store.  I dream of having only things I need and use frequently.  I dream of getting the most out of every space and every thing that I own, of loving my spaces and cherishing my things.  I dream of liking my stuff enough to care for it, keep it, and enjoy it, rather than dreaming of replacing it.

I dream, instead of getting new things, of getting very old things.  I dream of finding things that have worked for many years, which show little sign of wear and every intention of working forever.  I dream of caring for these things, of keeping them working, and when I no longer have use for them of finding other people who do.

I have been dreaming lately of making my situation better with the dream of less.  This is the American Dream, though it may not look like it on the surface.  I dream of taking what I am given and making it last longer, making it worth more, making myself happier, and making the world a better place.  In short, I dream of making a better life for myself and my family, and it seems that every day that better life needs a little more less.