I am feeling shaken. Personally. An earthquake halfway around the planet in Japan may be touching us directly. The butterfly effect, up front and personal. This planet is one organism.
If I were to anthropomorphize the planet's activity (which could be as ridiculous as the bacteria in my gut trying to figure out what my entire body is doing), I'd say Gaia is doing her part to minimize the life-destroying effects of human activity and get us reconnected to her. Massive quakes increasing. From less developed areas like Haiti and Chile a year ago, now to one of the most industrialized nations on the planet.
Such natural events are one sure way to get us to reconnect to the natural cycles. Like massive floods in Pakistan or England, hurricanes and droughts in Australia. Reconnecting, and then living within nature's limits and cycles, is required for sustainability. Nature bats last. She's showing us in spades.
Back to the up front and personal. Radioactive fallout from Japan's three nuclear reactors, damaged in Friday's shattering 8.9 magnitude quake, may ride on the jet stream and fall right here to the west coast of North America. On our heads, intermixed into the forecasted rain.
This quake shakes me into thinking again about emergency preparedness. Responding Saturday to Mike Ruppert's alert, we ordered potassium iodide tablets online immediately (used to prevent thyroid glands from uptaking the radioactive iodine in the fallout.) Calls around my mom's town found none available, and several online sites out of stock. Potent reminder about doing preparedness work *before* an emergency.
Not that preparedness is new. It's just that now I have to think of it in a fresh light due to changing circumstances. One is our living primarily in The Little House, the mobile studio/RV, where storage space is limited.
The second is our shift to a low-grains, low-carbohydrate diet. I've stored plenty of lentils, beans, and rice at Lone Bobcat Woods. So my thoughts turn to storing meat and vegetables, not as easy as grains and legumes! And on our limited budget, that means canning them ourselves.
Following a link on Carolyn Baker's daily email digest, I landed on instructions for canning butter. A brand new idea to me, and a welcome one for preserving a nutrient-dense fat. Which then leads to the need to bring the pressure-cooker canner and jars on the road in The Little House.
Which leads to thinking about other preparedness items for The Little House. The backpacking water filter. Foldable plastic jugs for water storage. The homeopathic first aid kit. And questions about where to store those. One thing leads to the next.
Emergency preparedness is now on my radar for when we return to Lone Bobcat Woods. Along with cleaning out and downsizing, assemble some emergency preparations to take along in the Little House.
After taking these steps, I turned to my sketchbook, photographing images I've drawn during our past eight months on the road. I assembled this collage of views from the Little House (at bottom).
I have done two things in response to my fear. I have taken appropriate action to meet what may come. And then I have soothed my heart by immersing myself in the timeless.