Awaken Matcha Cafe

The Jason Effect

It has been really, really warm here, on and off, over the past few weeks. It's only March, and I have my flip-flops out because I was 80 two days last week. This is not normal. At least, in my limited experience. It scares me in a way, but my body is so happy there is sun and warmth-- it's like radiant love on the flesh.

However. 80 degrees in Ohio, in March, is an oddity that support all the talk of global warming. Is it real? Is it crap? I believe that there *is* a problem we need to deal with. My friend Jason, who doesn't necessarily dispute the fact that the warming is happening, insists it is nothing to be dealt with, because the planet will eventually recover once we take care of killing off our species (I swear, he's a nice guy).

I think about this stuff a lot. I believe in what we do here as far as the difference it will make in helping prevent Jason's scenario. I am interested in other's points of view. Are you an ardent recycler and lover of the planet? Do you believe there is an issue at hand?

It has made all the difference

April is national poetry month. On light of spring, and poetry, and my nerdiness, and the fact that it has been 70+ degrees at least twice in the past week when 50 is the norm, I am going to wax all poetic.

I love the vivdness of a good poem. It is good for the soul. This one is so metaphorically beautiful, and it reminds me of my beloved fellow Earth Healers.

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost, 1915

Words to mull over when it's too late and you're still up because you are pumped at the thought of things you have done right. I love those nights.