“If only I had a roadmap, a secret recipe, a personal program to navigate me through the minefields of eco-travesties. My fantasy is to open the front door to find an eco-guru who sweeps in like some Earth-loving Mary Poppins. She takes me by the hand and whisks my messes into order, and we’re singing as she goes. She’s there to tell me, in her no-nonsense way, what to buy (and what to shun) to minimize my impacts, what to let go (and where to send it), and how to atone for the impacts I cannot avoid. And I go eco-smugly about my life.
“Or would I? I seethe when my husband tells me how to drive the well-worn path to our favorite liquid therapy locale. Some eco-busybody trying to boss me around 24/7 would make me more livid than finding another freaking phone book on my porch. “You sure are hardheaded,” was the only sharp thing my gentle grandfather ever told me.
“Truth is, I’d prefer to keep this an in-house job. May Divine Guidance be my eco-guru. Always available, always affordable and, best of all, ever infallible. Since my first experience with the bee, I’ve learned to accept the voices that whisper into my ear. If only Divine Intelligence came with some kind of signpost, like one of those turkeys with the pop-up timer, to aid in distinguishing it from the other loudmouths in my monkey mind. “Look here,” the red flag would indicate, “this insight is fully cooked”!”
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