Yesterday I visited a long-time friend whom I haven’t seen in many years. We have kept up, but not often and not on any regular basis. For various reasons we knew that this visit would only be for twenty minutes, which under the normal rules of women getting together would be ridiculous. Can’t you just hear it? “How can we even begin to cover everything?” Blah blah blah.

     And yet, we did cover everything. Oh, not the details behind the stories, not even the stories, but the essence of who we are and where we are on life’s journey. And because there were no stories, there was no gossip, critique or judgments to get in the way of what is really important to us.

    Now, I’m not saying that this is the only way to visit friends or nurture relationships, but it is a way to refine silence, solitude and simplicity and keep friendship. I left my friend feeling deeply satisfied. There was no clutter to clear away in order to regain that silence, solitude, simplicity that I long for.

Here’s a summary of things to do to lower your carbon footprint. It’s from Barbara Kingsolver’s marvelous book, Flight Behavior, a story sent in the Tennessee Appalachian mountains; story of a young mother; a story of climate change, a story of the flight behavior of butterflies.

    How am I doing, I ask myself? Answer: I have a long way to go, but at least I’m conscious. I don’t buy bottled water (except for an occasional sparkling water), I put-and-take at the local dump, I hang most of my laundry, and very seldom use the dishwasher. I love the idea of taking my coffee mug, cutlery and Tupperware when I go out to eat. We keep a cold house in the winter and in the summer run our bedroom window air conditioner only about eight or ten nights.

     Although there’s nothing more yummy than a medium-rare hamburger cooked on the grill, but I could let that one go. Money management isn’t my job, but I’ll check it out. I love public transportation, but there isn’t much of it around here. I have to drive twenty minutes to the nearest stop to catch the T into Boston.

     I must confess that driving back and forth to the cottage by the sea all winter does not help my carbon footprint, although once I’m there I hardly ever hit the road. But the ‘Fly less’ idea is not a happy thought for me. I’m going to Italy on Sunday, and flying is my only option. Yes, I have a long way to go!

     The irony of all this is that Dellarobia, the protagonist in Flight Behavior, scores high. She doesn’t have a long way to go because she can’t afford to; she doesn’t go out to eat; she shops exclusively at second-hand stores; stocks and mutual funds, what are they?; no computer; cool house; husband’s truck is on its third motor; excellent well water; the red meat she eats is from the sheep that the family raises on the farm. As far as  ‘fly less’ is concerned, she’d probably say, ‘fly never.’  

Category One: Food and Drink
• Bring your own Tupperware to a restaurant for leftovers, as often as possible.
• Try bringing your own mug for tea or coffee.
• Carry your own cutlery, use no plastic utensils.
• Carry your own Nalgene bottle instead of buying bottled water.
• Try to reduce the intake of red meat in your diet.

Category Two: Everyday Necessities
• Try to buy reused.
• Plan your errand route so you drive less.

Category Three: Financial
• Switch some of your stocks and mutual funds to socially responsible investments.

Category Four: Home/office
• Make sure computers get recycled.
• Turn off your motor when not in use.

Category Five: Household
• Switch your light bulbs to CFL. Upgrade to energy-efficient appliances.
• Set your thermostat two degrees cooler in winter and higher in summer

Category Six: Transportation
• Ride your bike or use public transportation
• Buy low-emission vehicle
• Properly inflate your tires and maintain your car.
• Fly less.

Today it was two chairs along the side of the road; rather nice ones; I bet they will be gone by tomorrow. The toilet seat isn’t there any more. I’ll never know what happened to it, but why should I care? Just some unnecessary curiosity to clutter my mind. In our neighbor, there seems to be an unwritten rule that if a roadside item isn’t claimed after a day or two, the owner takes it away--most likely to the dump or into their garage until they figure out what to do with it next.

      It isn’t always simple to get rid of stuff but there is a rather lovely rhythm to this roadside giveaway.

Okay, where does this one fit into Fulghum’s kindergarten list? To be specific, where does a toilet seat left by the side of the road in our suburban country town fit in? Occasionally people put things (usually furniture) on the sidewalk in front of their homes. Whether it has a ‘For Free’ sign taped on or not, we know it is there for the taking.

     Is a toilet seat furniture? Maybe that’s not the point. In fact, what is my point? I guess I was just surprised to see someone’s toilet seat among the flowers. It sure  didn’t contribute to the aesthetics.

     But aesthetics aside, there’s a lot of beauty in this offering, beauty in recycling. Let’s hope that it is just the right fit for someone who is remodeling their bathroom; giving and receiving, from one remodeling project to another. It’s about kindergarten sharing, and if nothing else, it’s about flushing.   

When I was teaching kindergarten, Robert Fulghum came out with his spot-on book, “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.” Now that I’m retired I’m thinking that I might write a sequel entitled, “All I Really Need to Know I Learned on my Daily Walk.”  Actually, Fulgrum’s list for kindergarten relates beautifully to what I experience every day. Let’s take the first leaning: Share everything.

     Yup, sharing is being played out on the front lawn of a house right down the road. On a table, with a big sign that says, “Farm Stand”, is a vase of flowers and an array of tomatoes, all for the taking, no charge. And so yesterday I took: one flower for the patio, and one tomato for our salad.   

    Today when I go by I’ll Play fair and leave a thank you note. This is giving and receiving at its best. It’s all I really need to know.


Here’s Fulgrum’s list of all he needs to know.

Share everything.
Play fair.
Don't hit people.
Put things back where you found them.
Clean up your own mess.
Don't take things that aren't yours.
Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.
Wash your hands before you eat.
Flush.
Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
Live a balanced life - learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work
     every day some.
Take a nap every afternoon.
When you go out in the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together.
Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: the roots go down and the plant goes
     up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.
Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup - they all die. So do we.

And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned - the biggest word of all - LOOK.

Sunday has always been a different kind of day for me. When I was growing up it was a breakfast of boiled eggs and Thomas’ English muffins, church, Sunday dinner with roast beef, lamb or chicken, and then my older sister and I had to do the dishes together!!!. The rest of the day was mine, free with built in solitude. We all had to stay home, no friends over. (When I was in high school I went to youth group at church.) The best part of it all was that we were in charge of our own supper--whatever was available, and whenever we wanted it. My menu never changed: Wheaties, sliced banana, brown sugar (lots), and milk, and an English muffin with butter in every nook and cranny.

    Although over the years much of the routine has changed, but get-your-own-supper never has. I still love banana and brown sugar, although I’ve switched to Cheerios. This Sunday afternoon of easing off of obligations, be they cooking or suppertime conversations, satisfies my longing for silence, solitude and simplicity.

During my walk I cross a street at at least twelve different places. Some are major intersections, others unobtrusive cul-de-sacs. I used to wait and give every car the right-of-way before I crossed. The driver and I would spend a minute or two bowing and scraping, directing each other to go first. I always won out.

     Lately I’ve stopped this little power play. Most of the time I forge across (after being certain that I’m not going to be mowed down), waving and smiling a thank you to the driver. I figure that it saves time and is definitely safer. And besides, it offers the driver the opportunity to balance out any road rage before doing the kind little deed.

     How do I know this? It happens to me when I stop for a walker. Out pops the ‘good person’ me. 

It wasn’t simple getting to the mall yesterday; two detours, one major, the other minor. But a rave goes to local traffic controllers for their clear and complete detour signs.

     I needed to purchase a set of #9 double-point knitting needles so I could complete the first-ever hat that I have knit. Mission accomplished, the needs and the hat. Hats seem to be a simple way for me to learn knitting skills, not that I want to get complex about it. Simple skills, simple hats.

What about these three sieves? Is it truthful, kind, and necessary? When should I use them? How do they apply? As a start, they apply when I want to tell a story, when I want to relate something that someone else did or that happened to them. I’m not talking about a character in history; I taking about someone I know or know of. I’m thinking of the category where gossip resides. The minute I slip over into that territory, bring out the three sieves!

        Is it true? Watch those embellishments. A story can be made more interesting if we stray from the facts.

        Is it kind? Watch that ‘schandenfreude’. A story isn’t kind when told at someone else’s expense as a way to elevate ourselves. 

       Is it necessary (useful)? This one is the biggest challenge. Most stories aren’t necessary as far as life and death is concerned. We tell them to enrich our lives and the lives of others, hopefully in useful ways. Be sure to clear out the negatives before accepting the usefulness.  

     One way to monitor ourselves is by asking, “If the person about whom I’m telling this story were here, would I tell it in this exact way?” If the answer is ‘yes’, go for it; your answers have passed the ‘Three Sieves Test.’

The story of Socrates and ‘The Three Sieves’ is posted all over the internet, source unknown.

     What if everyone  performed the simple ‘Three Sieves Test’ before speaking out? Many possibilities, but for sure the world would be a more peaceful and silent place.

Once upon a time in ancient Greece, one of the acquaintances of the great philosopher Socrates came up to him and said: “Socrates, do you know what I just heard about one of your students?”

“Hold on a moment,” Socrates replied. “Before you tell me, I would like to perform a simple test. It is called the ‘Three Sieves Test.’ ”

“The ‘Three Sieves Test?’ ”

“Yes. Before you say a word about my student, take a moment to reflect carefully on what you wish to say by pouring your words through three special sieves.”

“The first sieve is the Sieve of Truth. Are you absolutely sure, without any doubt, that what you are about to tell me is true?”

“Well, no, I’m not. Actually I heard it recently and…”

“Alright,” interrupted Socrates. “So you don’t really know whether it is true or not. Then let us try the second sieve: the Sieve of Goodness. Are you going to tell me something good about my student?”

“Well…no,” said his acquaintance. “On the contrary…”

“So you want to tell me something bad about him,” questioned Socrates, “even though you are not certain if it is true or not?”

“Err…”

“You may still pass the test though,” said the Socrates, “because there is a third sieve: the Sieve of Usefulness. Is what you want to tell me about my student going to be useful to me?”

“No. Not so much.” said the man resignedly.

Finishing the lesson, Socrates said: “Well, then, if what you want to tell me is neither true nor good nor useful, why bother telling me at all?”