Money is of no consequence

Walked through the art and antique fair on "Lange Voorhout" in The Hague today. To my own surprise I was quite touched by the beauty of many of the little (and larger) pieces of art, which artists were selling from little booths. The timid, balanced colors, the natural shapes, it all conveyed a message of love and craftsmanship. Where the two aisles between the rows of stands crossed, there was this amazing open air used book shop. The books were horizontally and vertically put in old citrus crates, piled up to make meandering bookcases. It looked great. Wondered what they would do if it started raining.

I scanned the titles while slowly walking along the books, until in the humor section I found a title that's been on my "to read" list since a couple of months. It's said to be a must-read if you have anything to do with economics. The book, by Marten Toonder, is called "Money is of no consequence," after a catch phrase of the main character, the legendary Oliver B. Bumble, a man of honor. It's a hybrid of comic and proza. Although written in 1968, in the few pages I've read so far, I've come across multiple ridiculous yet very truthful observations.

Club of Rome Global Assembly 2009

Please, check out the open Club of Rome Global Conference on climate, energy and economic recovery in Amsterdam, October 26-27. Keynotes and master class sessions with the world's top influentials on sustainability. Work together with them to produce the Amsterdam Declaration as a last message to the UN global climate deal negotiations in Copenhagen in December. Go to: http://www.clubofrome.at/2009/amsterdam

All is one

This youtube clip was brought to my attention today. I think it's cool. Check it out.

Energy for integration

Every day, I'm working on sustainability issues, hoping to somehow make some contribution to change for a better planet. It sometimes feels the green tipping point is near, like it's hitting main street. But then I do walk through Main Street and hear tuned cars noisily racing passed, and people throwing candy bar wraps carelessly to the ground. And I think about the change I'm working on and wonder: would these people care about sustainability at all? Have they heard of climate change? Would they climb on a chair to exchange their light bulbs for LEDs? Would they care to switch to green electricity? I can hardly imagine. And what about all those people who are having a hard time to make ends meet every day, working hard to make a living for their families. If I were in their shoes, would I be interested in organic vegetables? Do they know about it at all? I don't know. At first sight these worlds seem hard to unite, or am I too prejudiced and is subsurface engagement much more widespread than it seems? For example: on page x of the book ISIS agreement, Alan AtKisson tells an anecdote about how he once sat on a bus on his way back home from work facing two kids aged 14 or 15. AtKisson linked the two guys to the increasing destructive behavior in his neighborhood. Suspect at first sight. However surprisingly, the guys suddenly asked AtKisson whether he knew about climate change, because, they said, it's important. And this morning (3-8-2009) 'De Volkskrant' newspaper front page had an article (in Dutch only) on an organization teaching immigrant families on environmental matters and saving energy. The trick is to engage the people who enjoy respect in their community and address their short-term interests. And it works. The people do mind. These examples teach me that asking and talking to people is the better alternative to hopelessly shaking my head. Another exemplary green deal project is from a foundation called 'Stichting Aarde-Werk', educating people who re-enter society to be energy coaches. All those kind of initiatives, that bring down sustainability from the elite levels to the city streets deserve ample attention; they probably require a lot of endurance, creativity and confrontation. In the same time, they could be important catalysts to help spurring the dialogue between different societal groups. Now our soccer team offers little hope on winning the world championships in the foreseeable future, why couldn't climate change and energy be the nuclei around which common future can emerge that presents a counter movement against the nationalist reflex to the declining security about our economic future? I think we need some content to get the pressure off the fight over values and norms.

Farewell

In my life I haven't seen many very sick people in their last days, weeks or months. Most people who died and who had been close to me died suddenly. But yesterday I learned a little more about what terminal sickness looks like. After months of fighting the cancer in his lungs, a friend's father was forced to surrender. The war force objective was changed from "freeing the patient from captivity" to "making his life as comfortable as possible within the circumstances". Checkmate.
People walk in and out, children, grandchildren, brothers, sisters, friends, nurses. They bring flowers, look him in the eyes with pressed lips, frowning their eyebrows, watery eyes. He sees, he hears and he knows. I'm dead. I tried to imagine how I would feel, lying in a bed with three months to go, or one week, or maybe one year. Would I feel a sense of relief, of relaxation, no responsibilities any more? Or would it make me cry when I see love in the eyes of the people visiting me, wanting badly to apologize for failing them, but missing the breath to say the words? Would there be love at all, or would it surface that love has been less than I thought? How would I look back on life? Would it be the disappointment in all the things I hadn't achieved that would dominate or would I feel grateful for having had so many chances and nice and caring family and friends? Or would I be tortured by fear for the decline and the pain ahead? When running a marathon, I know where it ends, when the pain will be over and well-deserved rest awaits me, when I will be able to thank my supporters. How would I run a race in which the only certainty is that it will hurt, a race of which the distance is unknown, that I would want to last as long as possible, but in which the finish line could be around the next corner? I don't know. Most likely the many questions and confusion would leave me thoughtless, clinging to small easy things, like sipping my glass and zapping the channels, letting time go by.