Offloading Surplus

Here's a follow-up to the "Don't Like My Peaches" post.

I'm thinking about surplus. In particular, I'm thinking about trees dropping apples by the pound onto hard concrete, seniors who have time and no money, kale plants lushly bolting into seed while their gardeners show up nine-to-five at their paid workplaces. All this care, these resources, the synergistic kindness of Gaia in our stewardship, dissipating into the environment without meeting needs.

A request, in NVC, is the point at which an action is begged. It is where the rubber meets the road and food hard won is placed in the hands of the hungry. Expression without it is a chorus of feelings and needs, authentic and courageous, but spoken without the effect of meeting needs.

We all have our peaches. On my tree, there is time to spend. Time for laundry, dishes, cooking, reading to children, weeding and planting. Those who are nourished by my efforts land here. And I have needs unmet as well. Wouldn't I like more time to really focus and play with my children, time to nurture myself? How will I find it?

Surplus. I have enough peaches to share, but I need some beans. When my peaches are ripe and easy to collect, I pick and I eat, I can and I freeze, I jam and I bake. After this effort has been made, a hole in the fabric can become apparent.

Too many peaches. The way our culture is currently set up, we operate in isolation. Each of us goes to the grocery store to support our little islands of family with the food we need. Sometimes we don't even look out the back door at what Gaia has to offer. At a potluck last week, I noticed we were low on greens and offered to go pick some wild cress and dandelion. Spring is bountiful in so many ways.

What do we do with our excess peaches? If we habitually stumble into our cars, go to work and shop with eyes to our own needs alone, the peaches will go to the bugs. It ain't a bad thing to feed the worms, but given the amount of damage we do to our natural world in order to feed ourselves out of grocery bags, I'll say we could be more efficient.

Here is a request, a call to action. You consider your surplus, and I'll consider mine. Those resources we stockpile without using are a liability to ourselves as energetic clutter and to the world as we pay cash to consume new materials. I propose that we learn to see our lettuces before they bolt and share them, care for the children that show up and work themselves into the fray, feed the neighboring elderly when we cook too much for ourselves. I propose that we even assert ourselves in helping each other to recognize our talents, abilities, and resources to share. I invite you to educate me!

This shift requires awareness first and then a willingness to share. If it is truly surplus that we witness on our shelves, then it can be parted with painlessly, particularly if cumulative losses are greater if it is not used. Consider: if I pull the flowering kale from my garden and feed you effortlessly, then you may do the same, catching me by surprise to meet my needs later. At times, we are asked to give what is not surplus, and we want to be generous (integrity) and to see others' needs met. A graceful decline is all the easier (and often better received) in view of what we routinely give with ease! My offering is a bank deposit with no strings attached.

I do not give in this way with the expectation of a gift in return. I do give in this way as a strategy to meet my needs for sustainability. To give and to give and to give... the natural cycle of life cannot be broken. I will receive.

But I am in choice about what I will give. I give my best to those who want it, and it will be my surplus. Will you join me?