A Man for All Things

When I was young, virginal and deluded, I imagined that one man could meet all my needs.

But now I recognize that in a time of climatic catastrophe I require more. Much more.

A tribe, in fact. The only question now is how to make that work.

I started by sharing this realization with my husband of 23 years. He was a little shocked, but I asked simply, "Do you want to be the man who hunts for moose, shoots them dead with no help from Sarah Palin's heliocopter, and then skins them?"

"No," he admitted. "I'd rather not be that man."

"Okay," I said, "I'll find one of those. Now, how about shooting people? I doubt you want to be the man who stands out at the edge and shoots marauders to protect me?"

Much to my surprise, he said: "I would do that!"

Really? Twenty-two years of marriage and I never knew!

So, now that I know that I have my own personal National Guard (apparently he's even had weapons training!) I can focus my attention on hunters, gatherers, healers and engineers.

The question is, what else do I need to complete my tribe, and how shall I break them in to do my bidding?

Making a List, Checking it Twice

I have just returned from the grocery store, where many shelves were completely bare.

I had not previously noticed that hot cocoa usually occupies a good 12-foot stretch of aisle 16. But the gaping hole left by Swiss Miss and Nestle immediately suggested haggard shoppers stripping the shelves like so many Soviet-era Russians in search of rare foodstuffs.

The absence of eggs, bread and Lay's snack foods was simply alarming. Clearly, the storms that have gripped the Northwest for more than a week now have immobilized the modern food chain, dependent as it is on transportation.

Without a break in the weather, shortages and riots could be in the offing. Thank heavens most folks are stocked up for Christmas (and the rest of us know what to do with a potato, an onion and a little oil...)

Truly, this turn of events gives us a tiny glimpse into the coming ice age. Sudden, bitter cold, an unprecedented accumulation of snow and ice (the ice is easily a foot deep in many locations), and a complete break down in our usual ways of doing business is disrupting routines, challenging our infrastructure, and revealing the weak who will surely collapse under the slightest pressure of climate change.

Based on this fascinating week, here's what I know for sure:

1. I require at least one strapping man with an engineering mind (who is also be able to take direction) to perform such tasks as clearing a path, carrying firewood, and engineering work-arounds when systems such as electricity and road maintenance fail completely.
2. When picking a puppy, select the one delighted by the snow. That way you'll always have the potential of a sled dog, should you need one. Dogs that require a sweater to go outside for business are a liability to their owners and surely spell doom for their slavishly devoted people in the event of an ice age!
3. Everybody needs a tribe. Your own willingness to help a stray is the measure of your likely survival. When picking a stray, however, be sure to take number 1 and 2 into account.
4. God bless the Australians who made the sherling boots currently keeping my peds warm and dry! When the ice age descends, I simply must have well-crafted boots with good traction. And if the ice age is going to press me to make my own replacements, then I want sheep and whatever else it takes to perform such sherling miracles!
5. A simple knit cap is manna from heaven (though the currently trendy mad bomber hat is a fantabulous addition for going outside!).
6. Gloves just make your hands cold. Mittens are the only way to go!

Keep warm! Be safe! And start making a list.

Lacking the gene for survival...

Alright, I've been absent for nearly three months. AWOL. Traveling, working--doing everything but blogging. And thinking there was no real need...after all, it seemed (in the warm glow of the fading autumn) that climate change must have been a figment of the collective imagination...a mistake...a rouse...the straight line for "drill baby drill."

Never mind that scientists recently reported that 2 trillion tons of land ice (sweetly abbreviated 2T Ice, as if it were a simple kitchen ingredient) has melted from Greenland over the past 5 years, resulting in a measurable rise in the oceans. Never mind that Saudi Arabia recently opened two gigantic new oil fields that "promise" to deliver more oil than human kind has consumed thus far. Never mind that there is now a hole in the earth's magnetic field (okay, so that's probably unrelated, but it does sound a bit more dramatic than a hole in the ozone layer--that's just so last century).

So many words.

And like so many, I was distracted by other interesting things. My quickly emptying nest. An historic election. Opportunities to explore my notion that an island is simply the opportunity to see the ocean from many perspectives...

And then came the snow. And the ice. And the snow.

For days ice has followed snow has followed wind has followed snow. Nothing too unusual for Boston. Or Denver. Or Wasilla. But for the moderate Pacific Northwest, this is something!

And I have been reminded: we are doomed! Simply doomed!!

Look down now. If you have webbed feet, you're toast. There is no way for Pacific Northwesterners to survive the coming ice age!

Here's why: First, we are transfixed by weather-related news stories! In the event of a real catastrophe, we will drown while waiting for the next Doppler update to break into the emergency broadcasting network instructions for evacuation.

Secondly, we are unable to educate our young. It goes without saying that all school is cancelled upon sighting of the first snowflake. With ever-increasing rounds of inclement weather, this puts a whole generation at risk of ill-literacy.

But more importantly, we are unable to plan for the inevitable (and the simple).

We were all properly appalled by the bungled evacuation of New Orleans for Hurricane Katrina--the shock and surprise at gas lines and traffic jams. And yet, our self-righteousness is compuh-letely unwarranted. We are equally vulnerable to oblivion by the obvious.

Here in the Pacific Northwest, we cannot even plow the roads. It is not for lack of preparation--we have had weather updates every half hour since the storm originally appeared on radar--nearly three days before it arrived. In fact, last night, there were three weather updates during Saturday Night Live alone, each explaining that the Doppler radar had been switched to "winter mode" so that the storm would appear in white on the map, making it "easier to detect." As if we couldn't see the amassing snow and ice out side the window!

And it is not for lack of equipment. There are plows circling everywhere--blades mysteriously up.

No, we are suffering from some deeper malady. Some clear but unnamed desire to languish as the waters rise, as witnessed by the intersections here in the Capital City.

Although roads around the city have been randomly plowed--cleared for stretches then randomly left to the vagaries of traffic-induced rutting for a stretch, then cleared, then abandoned--in no case has an intersection been cleared.

Not the entrance to the mall. Nor the Costco. Not the intersection leading to the State Capitol and all the government buildings. Not the intersection that joins a major commercial thoroughfare to the Interstate. I can say with perfect assurance that every major intersection is blocked by two feet of churned up snow requiring four-wheel drive and the clearance of a Hummer to pass.

I take this to mean that we simply lack the will to survive. It's the same lethargy that explains the performance of all Seattle sports teams.

It's just too much trouble to figure out what makes sense, what needs to be done, what would help get us past our most immediate thought to the days beyond.

If climate change comes in a scenic, nature-loving way, the kind where we can hop in our kayaks and go for a good paddle, we will be fine. Even if we find ourselves water-borne for weeks, we'll be fine, taking an occasional pause from paddling to eat smoked salmon and sip a fine merlot.

But if it's more violent--and icy, well, we simply lack the will to survive. And like the people of Pompeii, we'll leave a perfectly preserved example of Americans going about business as usual, unaware of danger in the offing.

And realizing this, I am back from my hiatus.

Penicillin: The Greatest Human Invention

One foggy Sunday morning in 1928, Sarah McElroy Fleming was cleaning out the refrigerator, opened an old jar of haggis, and through her revulsion, began to scream.

"Take it away! Take it away!” she cried as her husband came running.

Mrs. Fleming shuddered and gagged. She pushed the jar into Dr. Fleming’s able hands. He peered inside. “My lovely wife has been completely immobilized by a simple, though colorful mold," he observed. Fascinated, he began to poke at the specimen.

It was thick and spongy from feasting on Scotland’s national dare-you-to-eat-it food. Arranged in concentric circles, the mold was forest green, grassy green, black, and white. The doctor’s mind began to work. “Women are delicate and weak compared to man and beast. And yet, they are stronger than the common cold…” He looked more intently into his accidental Petri dish. The wheels were turning.

Suddenly, they locked into place. “Eureka!” the good doctor exclaimed, “You are a fine woman, Sarah, and if this simple mold can incapacitate you, then surely it can kill the lesser species that cause scarlet fever, pneumonia and mengitis!"

Clutching the jar, he kissed Sarah’s cheek and made a dash for his lab. The rest, as they say, is history.

Unfortunately, I’m allergic to penicillin, so I have to admire this incredible bit of human ingenuity from the other side of the pharmacy counter (though I do sometimes wonder if I could eat the green fuzz straight from the refrigerator and still avoid anaphylactic shock).

Penicillin is so well documented that I can, while driving, download its history, pharmacology and chemical structure from the mobile Web on my cell phone.

So I ask with all earnestness: if we happen to sever our digital umbilical cord and lose access to the documentation of the greatest scientific discovery of all time, will human kind ever again put two and two together and come up with mold as the for cure for raging, Gram-positive infections (and the unmentionable Gram-negative, gonorrhea)?

A Life Without Chocolate? Now There's a Climatic Catastrophe

Lately I've been focusing on things we take for granted because, I believe, those are the things we need the most in our life. We're just like the fish who, as they say, don't know they live in water until they find themselves flopping around on the dock.

When this ad arrived on my cell phone, thanks to my chocoholic daughter, I realized that chocolate is woven into the very fabric of my life. I love chocolate. I entertain with chocolate. I express my love with chocolate. I use chocolate for crowd control in my work as a conference planner (why do you think they give you chocolate cookies at 3:00 pm every day of a conference or convention?)

And yet, apparently I completely take it all for granted. Chocolate will always be here. And I will always yearn for it.

So now that Reese's has drawn my attention to the effects of global warming on the chocolate supply, I am completely willing to make whatever changes are necessary! Sign me up!

How about you?

Spiderman and Rainbows

On Saturday, I headed out to McCleary, Washington to Hartman Jewelry repair. The Hartmans are fabulous people. She is as nice as he is cynical. What could be better? Their little shop is packed with fun things and I always spend a ton of money I didn't mean to.

I went to get my watch fixed. Yes, the birthday watch. Hope springs eternal, I suppose. Plus, it was Hartman's 10th anniversary and watch batteries were 25% off.

I did not need a new battery. The friction pin on the minute hand has burned out. Fascinatingly though, after the check up (no repair) the watch worked fine for the 35 minutes my husband wore it. As soon as I put it on, the minute hand started cu-chunking its way backwards.

The friction pin can be affected by electro-magnetic force, and therefore, a girl who has been hit by lightning.

More and more I am coming to grips with the reality that our run-ins with Mother Nature, just like radioactive spider bites, become part of our biological fabric.

I can forget that I was hit by lightning--or at least go for years and years without thinking much about it. It's not something that has all that much relevance to my day-to-day life. Except when I burn out a watch or crash a computer system by standing too close to a critical component. Then I reminded that it's not a memory. It's a force in my being.

Our outer world gets under our skin. It changes us in ways we can't consciously explain. And then it all oozes back into our lives in ways we can't consciously explain. We're all a little bit like Spiderman that way.

And that's the good news, I think.

Even Sarah Palin now agrees that climate change is eeking its way into our lives. The question is whether the change will be slow and incremental or catastrophic.

Mark Lynas argues in Six Degrees (a great new book from National Geographic) that the earth will heat up one degree at a time causing incremental change. It will become part of us and we'll face the next degree with our new and improved selves. John Medina makes a compelling case for how we adapted when we "came down from the trees" in his fun new book Brain Rules.

It gives me hope.

But here's the thing: I was hit by lightning on top of the Mount of the Holy Cross in August, 1978. Although lightning is a regular occurrence in the Rocky Mountains towards the end of summer, it was still unexpected and remarkably sudden.

The sky was gray. There was no rain, no thunder, no warning. Suddenly the world turned white and blue. I was flying through the air, balls of electricity flying from my finger tips. I landed face first in a small trickle of water--the headwaters for some mountain stream.

It happened at the speed of light. Nothing we knew or believed mattered. We were powerless to act.

A part of me still believes that when the weather changes it will be violent, sudden, unexpected and crippling. Of course it will change us forever, but what will we bring to the experience? Will our own inner Spiderman be suited up and ready to rock?

Everyone in my Girl Scout troop made it down from that mountain in one piece. My sister took care of me. "Stay down!" the leaders had shouted after the lightning sent us all flying. My sister crawled to me from somewhere and covered me up with an old Army poncho. It was thick and smelly and I could hear the hail thudding violently against it. She marveled at the blue balls of fire zipping from my pinkie. I marveled at her presence of mind.

And then someone called out, "There's a rainbow!" It was all over. And in an instant, I realized exactly why we humans put stock in mythical stories.

Towels and Other Glorious Human Inventions

Each May 25th, the world celebrates Towel Day. As well it should.

While the towel is incredibly useful--essential even--it is unheraleded and generally taken for granted. When is the last time you stopped to acknowledge:

• Your dependence on towels when your hair is dripping, the floor is slippery or the dog is tracking mud into the house?
• Your appreciation of towels when the upholstry in the back seat is too hot to sit on; you're lying on the beach; or covering up in the PE locker room?
• Your reliance on towels for self expression when cheering your favorite team; decorating the bathroom for the holiday; or coordinating colors and designs to complete your interior design?

There are so many unsung heroes and necessities in our lives. I'm beginning to think we might be able to measure the importance of certain objects in our world by the degree to which we take them for granted.

We love our cars, show them off, care for them. But what about motor oil, windshield wiper blades or air filters? Do we ever give attention to these essentials?

We love food and wine. But what about heating elements, pot holders or spatulas? Do we stop to think about how much these objects contribute to our nourishment?

My snoring husband recently got a C-PAP machine. It's like a leaf blower: while sleeping, it blows enough air through the nose and throat to keep the airway from collapsing thereby preventing not only snoring, but the much more dangerous (and potentially deadly) sleep apnea. But for us, the C-PAP offers something much more fundamental, something we typically take entirely for granted: REM sleep.

That's right, before this bit of technology came to our bedroom, my husband lived without REM sleep for as long as five years. REM deprivation makes you tired, sluggish, a little slow on the uptake. Eventually it makes you psychotic. But that's a different story.

We so take this function for granted that two doctors missed the diagnosis altogether and offered anti-depressants instead.

I understand. If we tried to track on every detail of our world and tried to elevate every gadget, electronic or essential bodily function to the level of recognition Towel Day offers, our brains would be overwhelmed and threaten to shatter into a million shards.

And yet, failure to recognize the glorious details that keep us ticking makes them all vulnerable. Like species that slip, almost unnoticed, into extinction.

Think about it. What little things do you take for granted? Click Here to answer.

Welcome Back

When I last left off, I was thinking about my life as a super hero and wondering if we aren't all a little bit like Spiderman. But I'll get back to that later.

I got distracted by summer, which was notoriously cold. And short.

Here in the Pacific Northwest, the rain normally starts to ease up in February and comes to a complete halt on the day after the 4th of July holiday. There are occasional dry days in April, May and June, although none of these occur on a holiday or a weekend or for a special event such as a wedding.

Once all the fireworks have gone off, however, it's suddenly (and exquisitely) dry and warm until Thanksgiving, when it floods (without exception) and all the locals act surprised (without exception). I am only allowed to make this observation because I am a transplant.

So, between the 5th of July and Thanksgiving, there are intermittent hot spells when temperatures may soar as high as 93. Three days of such a heat wave and true Northwesterners will begin to pine for the rain. Never fear: after 5 days, the temperatures will plummet to the mid-70s and all is right with the world for a week or two.

We will go through this cycle 4, 5 times in a summer.

Everyone's garden grows. Everyone's zucchinis are eaten by deer. I make fun of the web-footed natives who are truly tortured by temperatures above 82. All is right with the world.

But this year, not one Pacific Northwesterner complained. No one had the opportunity. We topped 90 just a few times--maybe three--and those days were followed by a week of rain. Gardens began to grow in August. Gardeners were holding out hope for a late harvest. Deer are waiting patiently in the wings.

It's only September 1st and already the furnace is kicking on at night. Yesterday, I wore a sweat shirt. And I had to dig my closed-toed shoes out of the back of the closet. It was still August then. Rain fell from the sky in torrents and bounced back up from the roadway in waves.

I passed a car on the interstate that hydroplaned onto the median and did a dozen donuts before coming to a stop. It had Oregon plates. Perhaps they were from eastern Oregon. But more likely they were just taken by surprise.

School doesn't start until tomorrow. The day after tomorrow...well, at this rate, it's shaping up to be the day after tomorrow!

Quick, find your parka and your hat and your scarf. They're in the closet some place. Try checking behind your closed-toed shoes. I know you've found those aready.

Bundle up! Keep warm! And keep reading!

The Real Life Adventures of Girl vs. Nature

I recently turned 44, and to celebrate my fabulous husband gave me a watch.

Actually, he bought more than one, starting with the kind he thought I ought to wear and eventually ending with the one I actually would.

This was no ordinary watch. It was traditional, with a wide leather band reminiscent of a bomber jacket. It was substantial. It was totally butch. And it was Swiss.

Thankfully, it also came with a warranty, because less than two weeks into life on my wrist, it stopped keeping time (although the second hand is still dutifully making its rounds).

And while this turn of events saddens me deeply, it is in no way surprising: I have been frying watches since 1978, when I was hit by lightning while venturing up the Mount of the Holy Cross with a gaggle of Girl Scouts.

This was no ordinary accident; it was Girl vs. Nature.

I am still standing, but no watch has ever survived being strapped to me, and that's saying something because in the year leading up to the Mountain Top Incident, I survived another Girl vs. Nature smack down and my watch was the winner.

In 1977, I was attacked by a killer horse. Or maybe it was just Horse Gone Wild. It's hard to say. But either way, I started out riding the horse and ended up flat on my back, unconscious, with the horse thrashing wildly beside me in an effort to get right-side-up and back on her feet. Stunningly, my skull was not broken, but I had multiple concussions and a broken jaw. And, although my arm was both compound fractured and splintered into 11 pieces, my Timex was in tact.

My mother said this was to be expected; back then, Timex commercials featured real life disaster stories with people like me, who would hold up their surviving watches and declare: "It takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'." She thought I should be in an ad.

It was not meant to be, however. My trusty timepiece met a dramatic end just a few months later, sometime between the blue haze of the lightning bolt and the hail storm and the rainbow that followed.

My next Timex never worked. Nor did any of the watches that followed.

It would be ten years before I would learn that this is not an uncommon consequence of being hit by lightning. I've since heard that no one who's had a near-death experience can wear a watch.

After about 4 dozen watches and 20 years, I declared Nature the winner and threw in the towel. Until recently.

Then I decided I needed a watch. A very specific watch. It had to be a women's design, but substantial and bold. With a leather strap. And big enough to read with my aging eyes.

This was a rather surprising impulse. Irrational. Doomed to fail. And yet, inspired by something completely endearing--an email from the most brilliant of colleagues addressing me as "Wonder Woman."

I realize in retrospect that I do indeed want to be Wonder Woman, and I want a watch wide enough and tough enough to deflect all of life's bullets. But you can't, as they say, fool Mother Nature.

Soon, my wonderful birthday watch will be in its magnificent orange box headed home to Switzerland, where the master watchmakers will undoubtedly open it up and declare: "C'est increable! C'est impossible!" By then, my $29.99 on-clearance-at-the-discount-store replacement will be finished as well.

Maybe I am part Wonder Woman; I do seem to have my very own super power: Electro Magnetic Girl Fries Electronics and Brings Down Computer Systems in a Single Stroke! But apparently, I'll have to embrace traditional cuff braclets; I'll never be able to dress the part wearing a watch no matter how perfect it might look.

Maybe it's not the look. Maybe Girl vs. Nature is really about iterative transformation and the ways that we stay connected, like Spiderman, to the mysterious power of Nature that threaten to overwhelm us.

I am, after all, still standing. And late. Again.

Sun Worship and Other Paradoxes

Happy Solstice! I hope the summer sun is brightening your world!

I was blessed to be born on the longest day of the year and I do have a very special affinity for the sun!

And yet...I always wear sunglasses, and not just because the risk of ocular melanoma is rising exponentially with the loss of the ozone. My pale blue peeps are remarkably light sensitive and I am easily blinded by any form of daylight.

And I own stock in the makers of SPF. My fair skin (a kind euphemism for my particular shade of pallor) is prone to horrific burning, though I do make a better run of it than my sister, who has on more than one occasion found herself hospitalized for sun stroke, sun poisoning and high altitude burns. The up-side, from what I understand is that we melanin-challenged individuals are far less prone to frostbite than others.

And frankly, I hate to be hot. I live the Pablo Neruda line: "In the full light of day I walk in the shade."

As I have been watching the recent flooding in the mid-west and the onset of the fire season in the far west, it's occurred to me that we all suffer from this kind of weather-related paradox. In farm country, run-off is a blessing, an anticipated ritual, a marker of time, and a signal that the new season for growing crops has begun. Run off brings a torrent of plenty and the promise irrigation throughout the summer. And yet too much rushing water brings dread, anxiety and destruction.

The ancients believed they might gain an upper hand with Nature by praying and sacrificing to the gods. Bringing pleasure and satisfaction to the spirit world was meant to appease those forces that would otherwise bring flood, famine, lightning and forces of destruction. Sometimes it appeared to work...

Today, we build levees and dikes, dams and reservoirs. And at times, it appears to work.

I think it is inevitable that we humans will keep trying our hand at this. Just as the sun will bring the solstice again and again, we will make our efforts again and again. What's most interesting to me, though, is our relentless optimism, our apparent belief that we will some day find the way to prevail.

All Hail the King!

This morning at breakfast my middle child, a 19-year-old soon-to-be-sophomore biology major, surprised me by announcing: "I searched your blog and found that you have not mentioned me. You haven't even mentioned that you have a son."

Actually, I haven't mentioned that I have two sons.

The older one will graduate from college in May of 09. If you happen to be the one who scores the Foreign Service Exam, I hope you take notice of him! He's named Josh, has an incomprehensible love of comparative politics, mad gaming skills, a certain aversion to dirt, and --by graduation day--experience working for the Canadian consulate. Not that Canada is all that foreign, but we in the Pacific Northwest love our neighbors to the north. Plus, they speak English and French. Like Josh.

Hopefully, if the ice age comes along in the next year, Josh's Canadian friends and colleagues will lend him a dog sled and teach him the finer points of trapping. It's not as exotic as Micronesian friends and colleagues or Canary Islander friends and colleagues or even Australian friends and colleagues. But it's practical. Like Josh.

Now, my other son is not known for his aversion to dirt. Or being practical. In fact, he's rather lofty and is known far and wide as King.

This is not his given name, of course. But his given name is one of those adrogonous names gone all girly. He hates it (or perhaps he hates his parents for saddling him with it), and has always gone by his middle name. But in a modern world, your first initial leaks out, and by second or third grade everyone wanted to know what his mysterious first initial, K, stood for.

"Simple," he would say, "It's King." Then he would humbly explain that he was sparing their dignity by not using his haughty moniker, and by middle school absolutely everyone--friends, neighbors, teachers, the mailman--everyone believed that we had named our first child Josh and our second child King. "My name is King Cole," he would declare, and no one would laugh or giggle or ask any questions.

Just for the record, he is not named King Cole, nor is he named King Kong, which might be more appropriate given his flair for the dramatic.

The King is extaordinarily gifted. He has an IQ of about 8,000 and a Midas touch that won't quit. And he's quite certain that global warming isn't real, or at least not worrisome, which is the real reason I haven't worked him into the blog until now (in case you're reading, my wunderkind).

He's making me read The Beak of the Finch so that I might learn just how we living organisms will adapt to a crisis such as climate change. But I'll confess: I don't really understand it.

Still, I find myself nearly persuaded each time I hear The King argue that polar bears will survive; after all, they have already begun to adapt. I'm not sure if he learned this in his evolutionary cellular biology class or because he attends the only university in the country to have a polar bear as a mascot.

And yet, for all his blustery objection to global warming propaganda, here he is, reading--searching, even--InnerNeanderthal. What else could a mother ask for? What else could a blogger ask for? My goal here is to stretch the limits of imagination, and clearly, I've captured some tiny corner of his.

As an adult educator, I am well aware that human beings can neither discuss nor act on anything that is beyond the boundary of our imagination. And we cannot imagine global warming.

Or more strictly, we cannot imagine how six, or at the most eight, degrees of warming will change our world. And since we cannot imagine, we cannot talk about what's coming or what we could realistically do to stop it.

We can, however, imagine how difficult it would be be to whittle all our possessions down to a short list we could pack and carry in a hurry. And that is the point of the exercise.

The King may be right. Maybe global warming is a natural phenomenon that has not been accelerated by humankind. I find this a bit unlikely. But also a bit irrelevant.

We should all radically change our behaviors right this minute, just to be sure. And certainly, The King and his brother Josh have been most cooperative in our family efforts to live a one-car life and to slash our electrical use.

But even if we cease to produce any more greenhouse gases tomorrow, global warming would continue...the greenhouse gases already in the atmosphere need time to dissipate; they will continue to influence the weather until they're gone.

And so, it is most likely that we will see climatic catastrophes for decades to come.

It seems to me that it is time for all of us--skeptics and saints--to shine a little light on the corner of our imagination and talk about what we're going to do about the impending reality, regardless of its ultimate cause.

Perhaps, in the end, The King knows that his mother is right. Perhaps that's the real reason he's searching for his Inner Neanderthal!

Top Ten List of Entreprenuerial Possibilities for the Ice Age

Ever since I discovered that homo sapiens and neanderthals are separate species I've been holding out hope that the future ice age will be a little more civilized than past ones. We have so much wisdom and so many conveniences to help us along this time around.

And yet, too many of our best tools still rely on electricity or a network of some kind. With hundreds of feet of ice on the ground, our electronic umbilical cords will be severed.

Once a critical mass of fresh water melts off the polar ice caps, slowing the Gulf Stream and triggering massive cooling, life is going to get a lot less complicated. We'll forget all our passwords and PINs and head south, focused on staying warm, finding food, and protecting our own.

Sure, we'll have Gortex and wool socks and protein bars. But what's still missing? What will we need that's not yet been invented or isn't properly powered for the ice age?

Here's my Top Ten List of Entreprenuerial Possibilities for the Ice Age:

10. Ice batteries. Putting batteries in the refrigerator is supposed to be good for them, so there must be a way to generate power in the cold! Since many of our most essential conveniences need some juice, ice batteries should be at the top of the R&D agenda!

9. No melt candles. Light bulbs are complicated and electricity will be in short supply. Candles are the obvious solution, if only they didn't insist on melting away! If we can make them dripless, we can make them no-melt!

8. Ice floe toilet. Floe, flush, whatever works. Need I say more?

7. Battery operated coffee grinder. I'm not a big coffee girl myself, but I know what happens when the dancing goats go without for too long. A wise ice traveller will make friends and build alliances along the way by carrying a closely guarded supply of beans, a grinder, and the means for whipping up a steamy mug wherever (s)he goes.

6. Ice cows. I don't really like to admit it, but it is possible that a sudden ice age might elminate a quite a number of species and limit our ability to hunt down food. What's more, most of us are quite domesticated--which is to say, we don't really know how to hunt. We need a herd of ice cows to travel with us, produce milk, and serve as an occasion gustatory sacrifice. I'm sure they can be engineered and domesticated in a freezer laboratory until we need them....

5. Solar powered blow dryers. Really, why don't we have these already? I'm not a huge fan of the curling iron, and the flat iron is ridiculous, but as long as there is vanity, these items ought to run off the sun as well!

4. Blow dryer co-generation capacity. Manufacturers have been co-generating products and energy for quite some time. Blow dryers put out inordinate amounts of heat, which we ought to harness for important endeavors, like grinding coffee or lighting the cave.

3. Toothbrush making kit. It's an unfortunate fact of life that toothbrushes wear out. We need to be prepared. We could schlep a thousand toothbrushes along (is that enough for an average lifetime?), but as the old saying goes: give a man a toothbrush and he is minty fresh for a day; teach a man to make a toothbrush and he is cavity free for a lifetime.

2. Water deriver. Every Inner Neanderthal will want and need one of these easy-to-tote contraptions. Just break off a piece of relatively clean ice and lock it in the chamber to melt it down and sanitize it for drinking. Just think of it as the next generation of bottled water!

1. Solar Powered iPod. I have been talking with people for years now about the most essential items to pack in the event of climatic catastrophe, and they have provided me with a long list of sensible items: fire, tampons, all the ammo I can carry. The iPod never comes up though; it's just not sensible. It's not essential. And yet, it appeals so deeply to our sensibilities, reflects our individual identity, captures history and art. Even if I could never upload another tune, I'd sure like to have a Nano on hand, ready and able to play Like a Virgin till all eternity.

Survival of the Richest

Although my physical body shows up at the gym several times a week, my mind often wanders. And so today, I found myself contemplating a funny sign that hangs over the towel rack on the way in: "Shower Towels 25 Cents."

I noticed it on the way in, as I grabbed a little towel--the non-shower towels, I suppose--that you use to mop up sweat and wipe down machines. They're itchy and graying. I paused as I picked it up, wondering for a moment if the shower towels are more luxurious and white. They must get a lot less use.

Just as I worked up a sweat, I began to wonder: Who would pay a quarter for a towel?

My husband and I were debating the Top Ten People Most Likely to Survive the Ice Age as we passed by the shower towel sign. He was making a darned good case that rich people would fare best in the Ice Age--at least for awhile. Would rich people pay a quarter for a shower towel?

"It depends on the rich person," I thought as turned out another mile.

There are plenty of rich people out there like me: "Why would I give you a quarter for a towel when I can bring one from home for free?" Even if the mysterious shower towels are gorgeous and absorbent, why waste cash? "I come to the gym 4 times a week, that's a dollar a week, that's 52 dollars a year..." You've met this guy. He knows exactly how you can turn your $52 into a million bucks before you retire.

I'd like to know how to turn a quarter a day into a retirement fund! But, I'm not really sure the math adds up. There is a different kind of rich guy, who makes this case: "Time is money. And by the time you find a towel and pack it and put it in the laundry and pay for the soap and the water and the electricity to get it clean, you've spent far more than a quarter." I start to wonder how you do this kind of cost-benefit math. Somebody must know how.

I'm through the cardio and the stretches and the weights and the shower before I realize that money isn't everything. There is another kind rich guy (my kindred spirit, perhaps) who says: "Are you kidding me? There are some things you just don't share with anyone!"

I don't know where he comes from, but my mind wanders off to another kind of rich person, the one who would undoubtedly scoff at my reasoning: he wouldn't belong to a club where you pay for towels, much less where you put up a tacky sign announcing the cost. "I belong at a place where staff places clean towels in my locker whilst I play squash. Alfred knows that I prefer white, Egyptian cotton with a slight scent of lavendar."

I have no trouble imagining real people who think in these different ways, not just about towels and other trivialities, but about meaningful life decisions. But would it make a difference in the event of climatic disaster? I ask my husband what he thinks, as we head for home, "Which kind of rich person did you mean when you said rich people would be the most likely to survive?" I make a case for each:

The guy who saves his quarters and invests them to greatest advantage is incredibly resourceful. He's good at the long term and knows how to get where he wants to go. And he's willing to sacrifice in the short term to get there.

The guy who weighs the quarter against the hidden costs knows how to see the big picture. He doesn't always take the obvious path, he takes the smart path. He understands trade-offs and measures his carefully. He'll be able to plan ahead, account for all kinds of variables and make smart decisions.

The guy who doesn't share will have a loyal clan around him, an extended network of family and friends who take care of each other and protect each other from outsiders.

And the guy who plays squash...well, he might sound like he's a little soft around the middle, but he knows how to be the king of the jungle. He knows how to get others to do his bidding, how to be on top. He'll probably make a whole new country and get himself elected king for life. And whatever the new economic system looks like, he'll be the richest one.

So whose going to make it? Who is the fittest for survival? Is it possible to train your mind to be as fit as your body? And if so, whose footsteps do you want to be following in?

Thank Heavens for Vic's Pizza

It's Friday night and my daughter wants pizza. Vic's Pizza to be exact.

Vic is apparently the pizzeria's resident shepherd dog. I don't know how a dog learned to make pizza, but the thin, crispy crust and zingy sauce set it apart from all other local options. Only Hot Lips--down the road a hundred miles in Portland--could even begin to compare.

Vic's and Hot Lips are small shops in college towns; both sell by the slice or by the pie. Both make it possible for carnivores, omnivores, vegetarians and vegans to embibe in the world's Most Essential Food. Perhaps that's what makes them great. But the convenience doesn't hurt either.

Call ahead and voila...pizza! There goes my daughter now...

As the tail lights fade into the distance, I begin to wonder what makes pizza so indescribably close to perfection? Do I want to preserve this treasure for eternity? What, exactly would it take to bring pizza making along for the Ice Age?

If we were living the Neanderthal life, we would definitely need one of those solar foil ovens we learned to make in Girl Scouts a zillion years ago.

Admittedly, sitting around the foil oven doesn't have the same ring as sitting around the campfire. But nevertheless, I can imagine my InnerNeanderthal baking up a Friday night storm, bending low over the foil oven, evoking oooo's and aaaaah's from those who never could cook.

Perhaps you can smell the yeasty dough...I can. And yet, this is where my vision begins to get cloudy. Pizza is remarkably simple: cheese, sauce, dough (and maybe a topping or two, if something interesting is hanging around).

But the cheese...Exactly where do you get cheese when there's no deli drawer in the refrigerator?

I know it involves a cow, or a goat, or possibly some other mammal. Perhaps Vic will be bringing along a herd for us to milk.

And perhaps Vic knows what happens next, because I sure don't. It's something involving cultures and cheese cloth and the intestines of a calf.

Okay, maybe I imagined that last part. But wild berries and barbequed snake on a stick are beginning to sound a little more practical.

Lucky for me, my daughter is back and she has one ginormous pizza box in hand!

Ice Ages Not Dark Ages

World history students across the nation love the Middle Ages. They won't call that time between the Roman Empire and the Renaissance the "Dark Ages." To them, the knights and the castles are far too romantic to warrant such a dismal moniker.

For 15-year olds enamored with swashbuckling and jousting, even The Plague can be reframed as a worthy adversary to be tracked and slain like the mythical dragon. Each boy imagines himself as the virtuous knight most capable of such a task. And the girls look dreamily on, oblivious to the real implications of chastity belts, and hoping that lessons in chivalry will lead to an invitation to the Prom.

Even Monty Python can't disuade them. But Search for the Holy Grail is probably the truest portrayal of the times ever conceived. "Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!" ("I'm not dead yet." Whack to the head. "Now you are.").

Perhaps you know that historically London streets are the width of two arms and two bed pans. Each morning, housekeepers and women of the house would carry chamber pots to the edge of the street, reach as far as they were able, and empty the contents into the road so that the waste could be flattened by a cart like the one collecting the dead in The Holy Grail.

Truly, it was a dark time. And filthy. Brits didn't believe in washing; water seemed to be a source of ill-health, and likely was, at least in the cities. Instead, women wore flea bags, animal pelts hung from the waist and tucked into the pleats of a lady's skirt. Flea bags were meant to attract fleas and other pests away from the human.

It is continually amazing to me that Europe plunged from the glory of the ancient empires to darkness, hopelessness, illiteracy, filth, hunger, poverty and disease of the Dark Ages within generations. Ancient knowledge and wisdom was lost to memory and had to be rekindled centuries later.

We know it can happen. And we even know some of the reasons why. Humans are notorious forgetters. And stress actually speeds up our forgetting. So what's going to happen in the event of cataclysmic climate changes? What will we forget?

What is it that keeps us out of the darkness of the Dark Ages? What do we know, what are we able to do, what do we value that brings light to our world?

And how might we intentionally save our collective wisdom and skills? How do we keep ourselves out of the mud, out of the ignorance, and taking baths instead of hanging flea bags?

As long as we're connected to the internet and able to spend an odd Friday night at Barnes and Noble, we're good. But what happens when the lights go dark and the ice gobbles up our infrastructure.

Will we be prepared to remember at that time? Click Here to weigh in! Take a 9-question InnerNeanderthal survey and let us know what's needed to keep the Dark Ages romantic and interesting, and well in the past!

Personal Habits Reveal Our True Humanity

I am not one to judge personal habits. As faithful readers know, I have a certain commitment to brushing my teeth. Given a choice between a toothbrush and almost anything else, I'm choosing the toothbrush.

Some might say it's an obsessive thing with me. Okay. If you went through 7th grade entirely unable to brush your teeth, you'd be scrubbing and spitting right along side me! And you'd join me in saying, "Nurse your neuroses first!"

After all, neuroses are a giant distraction, even when survival of the species is in the balance.

And so, deeply felt kudos to the clever Inner Neanderthal reader who is prepared to clip his toenails from here to eternity!

That's right! When taking the Inner Neanderthal What to Pack in the Event of an Ice Age survey, one faithful reader has selected from among all the possibilities out there, a knife. Actually, many readers have prioritized a knife. But when this particular reader answered the question, "Why would you prioritize the item you selected?" he said: "Then I can always keep my toenails clipped."

Clearly, we Inner Neanderthals will be a well groomed lot as we transition to an entirely new and different climate. According to the survey we will collectively have a toothbrush, flush toilets, tampons and clipped toenails!

Personally, I think this is good news.

We've already proved that we're a smart and responsible crowd. We are helping to save the environment, but we know that even if we all quit our carbon hogging today the climate will still continue to change until the greenhouse gases we've already produced break down and disappear. So we're thinking about tomorrow as well. Contmeplating how we take the best of what humanity has created and learned and carry it into an uncertain future.

Want to weigh in? Grab a toothbrush and Click Here to take survey !

Toothbrush or tampons? Knife or gun? What do you think?

What do flush toilets, tampons, and all the ammo I can carry have in common?

InnerNeanderthal readers say they would pack these items first in the event of an ice age or other climatic catastrophe.

How about you? What is it that you'd want to have in the event of an ice age? And what would you want to make sure humankind remembers if our weather changes everything?

For the past year I've made a habit of asking people these questions. It's led to some amazing conversations! Now it's your turn to weigh in. Take this quick 9-question survey. Click Here to take survey

Then help everyone you know to embrace their inner neanderthal by sharing the link.

Thanks!

Wild Things

So here's an interesting thing: it only takes a generation for domestic pigs to devolve into wild beasts. That's right, let Wilbur off the farm and he's going to sprout tusks and an aggressive attitude in no time at all.

As a result, some people wonder whether pigs are really domesticated. News flash: those hideous creatures are big, stinky cannibals. And, as Steinbeck so eloquently described, they will eat small humans as well. Any questions?

What about us? How many generations would it take us humans to devolve?

If we were separated from our domestic bliss, sent out into the wild by the vagaries of flood or drought or ice age, I doubt we'd sprout tusks or ape-arms (although the way men sprout whiskers between dawn and dusk, I kind of wonder what else might be in the DNA). But what part of our civility and civilization might we leave behind?

We humans are notorious forgetters. We needed the whole Renaissance to remember things that we apparently knew during the rise of the Greek Nation State. What would our world be like if we forgot modern medicine? Or agriculture? Or art?

What would we be like--as individuals and as a collective? Will future anthropologists and historians look back on as and see barbarian apes or wild pigs? Or will they have cause to see us as humanitarian?

And do we have any say in the matter?

I think we do...how about you?

Random Mutant Sex

Back in the day, random mutant sex was the only known pathway to evolution.

Or, maybe it was more like random mutation passed on through sex. But still...the science got the religious right hot and bothered!

Today's science is still a little bothersome. For one thing, gene mapping says that Neanderthals were not "early man." As it turns out humans and Neanderthals are not the same species although we both have more than 95% of our genes in common with chimpanzees. I don't really get how we can both be that closely related to chimps and yet not related to each other.

What does this new science mean for this new century?

Old school: when environmental pressure is extreme, the fittest survive by mutating at random. Then, when the survivors procreate, they open the one and only window of possibility for passing along their adaptation. After about a gazillion generations, if the mutation has proven its usefulness, then the survivors have "adapted" and evolution has marched forward.

Hip school: environmental pressures act on our biochemistry on a moment to moment basis, triggering the proteins in our cells to express and replicate genes. Under stress, our hormones actually cause unexpressed genes to become an active part of our make-up. And as far as we know, once our dormant genes awake, there is no turning back the clock. We pass our adaptations along to our offspring, and small, permanent changes take place in one generation.

So how about it, how should we adapt in the face of global warming, which promises flood, drought, famine, ice, snow, drought, and famine. What changes do we need to evolve into being?

Given a choice, what biological change would you make in yourself (or the species as a whole) to ensure our survival, (keeping in mind that random mutant sex will still be required to keep the species moving forward)?

Midnight Meeting, Carbon Hogs Anonymous

Welcome to the midnight meeting of Carbon Hogs Anonymous! I'm NeanderGirl, and I am a carbon hog. I gobble up carbon despite my best intentions and commitments. I am powerless.

Carbon Hogs Anonymous is based on the classic 12-step model. And as you undoubtedly know (unless you happen to be signing in from the one glorious place on earth where addiction does not permeate food, drink, sex, shopping and all things human) the first step in the 12-step model is admitting that you are powerless.

Today was a lesson in powerlessness for me.

I was fortunate enough to see His Holiness the Dalai Lama speak on the topic of compassion. When asked, "How do you and how might we remain hopeful?" the Dalai Lama first suggested that we might be convinced by the media that the world is made of pain and suffering. However, if we look past the nightly news , to "the whole condition of six billion human beings," we will realize the world is actually "getting better."

This should be our source of hope. Specifically, we should be hopeful because the idea of human rights did not even exist--not really--at the beginning of the 20th century, but today that idea is nearly universal.

He went on to say, however, that the world is suffering from two very real problems: global warming and overpopulation. These alone require our attention because of their significance and implications for the whole condition of all six billion human beings on earth.

To me, this perspective put carbon hogging into perspective.

Even while the Dalai Lama was answering this question, a small plane buzzed the open air stadium, dragging along a banner that read: "Dalai Lama Pls Stop Supporting Riots." It had circled the stadium throughout the program, referencing recent Chinese suppression of monks in Tibet, and reminding the world that the Chinese goal is to end the Dalai Lama's influence over his own people.

And yet, the Dalai Lama said, the real problems of the day--those that require our genuine concern--are global warming and overpopulation.

It made me want to be better, even as I gathered up my plastic water bottle (no outside drinks are allowed in the stadium, and the inside vendors use plastic) and headed out to the bus for the long drive home. Clearly, I am powerless despite my intentions and commitments. I am a carbon hog.

Happily, powerlessness in the face of excrutiating compulsion is far removed from blame. So, we won't be doing any blaming here...no discussion of Hummer drivers or corporate greed or even the relationship between Dick Cheney and gas prices. No, we have much more important work to do.

According to the American Psychological Association (and reported by Wikipedia), the 12-steps can be summarized as:

• admitting that one cannot control one's addiction or compulsion;
• recognizing a greater power that can give strength;
• examining past errors with the help of a sponsor (experienced member);
• making amends for these errors;
• learning to live a new life with a new code of behavior;
• helping others that suffer from the same addictions or compulsions.

It's time for us really to learn to live a new life with a new code of behavior and to help one another out of carbon hogging as we transition to a new hotter--or colder--life.

We have a few moments left with life as we know it. It really is time to figure out what we love and respect and need for life.

And we need to carry that forward. For, as the Dalai Lama remarked: "Not only humans, but other mammals survive and grow totally dependent on others. This is a biological condition." Our power rests in how we support, nurture and care for one another, including those who will come in the future.

Supported Cognition or How We Forget

While grocery shopping today, I was suddenly overcome with forgetfulness. I'd gathered some fruits and vegetables and hunted down a few cans of this and that before I found myself gazing, rather blankly, at the display of just-add-water potato products (the au gratin potatoes, I will admit, were rather tempting).

Eventually, I wiped the drool from my chin, whipped out my cell phone and texted my husband. "Why am I here? I can't remember."

I threw some completely unnecessary items into the cart while waiting for his reply. (Chocolate cookies! Frozen fruit bars! These could have been my reason for shopping, couldn't they?) "What's that? The ingredients for chicken enchiladas? No problemma!"

I don't know about you, but I text for back up all the time.

My cell phone also doubles as GPS so that I don't get lost, logs me into Wikipedia for my especially stupid moments, delivers my email, and keeps track of my most important contact information. It also performs simple calculations, keeps my calendar and doubles as an alarm clock.

I would be very stupid without my cell phone.

We are all dependent upon "supported cognition" to keep ourselves moving forward in life. Calendars, calculators, computers, even to-do lists are all thinking devices, tools that keep us on track even as they reduce the load on our brains. Without these tools and supports we are much more limited in our capabilities.

We really are like computers with limited RAM; no matter how high our IQ, we can get overwhelmed when we have too much going on. But paradoxically, the more we off-load our cognition--the fancy word for thinking and other brain processes--the more we forget.

Honestly, I used to remember phone numbers like some kind of math genius. I'd make funny little equations or patterns out of them. Nowadays, I don't bother. If I want to be in contact with you, you are in my cell phone...why bother to remember in my puny little brain?

So here's a question: what work is your Inner Neanderthal outsourcing?

Maybe your laptop has completely replaced your ability to write in cursive? Maybe LL Bean makes all your cold weather gear? Maybe Safeway does all your gardening? Maybe your accountant keeps you on the right side of the law? Or perhaps your handy husband keeps nature from reclaiming your house?

Is there anything you're outsourcing that your Inner Neanderthal will want to grab back and preserve in the event of sudden, cataclysmic climate change?

What if you find you've forgotten those essentials? What if everyone you know and trust has forgotten?

It's not a big deal when we blank out in the middle of grocery shopping. But it's undoubtedly a big deal if we have collectively forgotten how to produce food and suddenly find we need to remember.

What do we collectively want and need to make a point of remembering? What ideas, skills and technologies do we want to assure are present in the future? What will ensure the survival of our grandchildren and our grandchildren's grandchildren? What will make their lives sweet, productive, bearable? What will keep them from harm and give them the tools they need to live good, healthy, happy lives?

I often ask people, "What 100 things would you pack for the ice age?" And by that, I really mean what 100 really, really important concepts, skills, ways of knowing, principles, ideas or technologies do you want to make sure get carried along through history? What 100 things, if we left them behind, would surely plunge the world into the Dark Ages?

Obviously, I need a cell phone to keep living the life I've got, but in the event of an ice age, I'd probably start with fire, followed by a toothbrush...Or maybe I'd start with the toothbrush; I've got this little obsession, you see...

Scientists Shocked by Sudden Events in Antarctica

Rapid climate change reached a whole level this week when scientists discovered that the Wilkins ice shelf, which at 6,180 square miles is the largest on the Antarctic Peninsula, has begun to disentegrate. Over 450 square miles have broken off since late February, including one 25-mile long iceberg. The world will know within the next few weeks whether Wilkins will collapse altogether.

``We predicted it would happen, but it's happened twice as fast as we predicted,"' scientist David Vaughan of the British Antarctic Survey (BAS) told Bloomberg.com. In 1993, Dr. Vaughan predicted that the Wilkins Ice Shelf would be lost within 30 years if trends in global warming continued.

The Antarctic Peninsula has warmed by 4.5 degrees Fahrenheit during the past 50 years — several times the global average. During the past 30 years, several Antarctic ice shelves have retreated. Six of collapsed altogether, including Prince Gustav Channel, Larsen Inlet, Larsen A, Larsen B, Wordie, Muller and the Jones Ice Shelf.

Although the Wilkins ice shelf is bigger than Connecticut, its disentegration is unlikely to affect sea levels because the Antarctic Peninsula is not over land; rather, it floats in the water.

However, David Vaughan of BAS warns, “Climate warming in the Antarctic Peninsula has pushed the limit of viability for ice shelves further south – setting some of them that used to be stable on a course of retreat and eventual loss. The Wilkins breakout won’t have any effect on sea-level because it is floating already, but it is another indication of the impact that climate change is having on the region.“

Antarctica combined with Greenland holds enough ice to raise sea levels by 260 feet.

Clean Underwear or Toothbrush?

When I was in 7th grade, I broke my jaw. So for more than a month, my mouth was wired shut. I cleaned my teeth by swishing hydrogen peroxide around in there. Ewww!

So today, I am completely, neurotically, insanely dedicated to brushing my teeth.

Recently, my middle school-aged daughter riddled me this: if you had to choose between a toothbrush or clean underwear, what would you choose? She was clearly horrified by my answer.

What about you? In a world of limited resources or high stress, if you were forced to choose between clean underwear and a toothbrush, which way would you go?

Ready, Set, Survive!

In the event of an ice age, the first thing I would pack is Gortex. Lots and lots of Gortex.

Hunger, thirst and danger I can live with. But not damp. Or cold. So, I'll confess: I already have a few bolts of Gortex stored in the closet, ready to run with me when the glaciers descend from Mount Rainier.

Sometimes I wonder whether we'll have electricity for sewing, and if not, whether there is some special hand-stitch that will ensure sealed edges on this fabric. Truly, I dream about this from time to time.

And since it's time for true confessions, let me say, I believe my Gortex will be the most hotly contested item in my will when I die, like Methusala, at the age of seven hundred and three.

What about you, what's the first thing you would pack in the event of an ice age?

I know. It's unlikely you have an answer to this crazy question. But think about it. Seriously.

BUSINESS-AS-USUAL THINKING
When I asked the smartest woman I know what one technology she'd take in the event of an ice age, she instantly said her cell phone. "The grid will probably be down," I said. "It won't work once your battery dies." She thought about it for a moment and said, "I'll take extra batteries." It could work. At least she'll be able to order in for pizza and bottled water.

When answering the very first Inner Neanderthal Survey question, over 50% of you said you'd to take an airplane to Mazatlan or Hawaii in the event of an instant ice age. The staff at the Marriott could be waiting with open arms for the mad flow of refugees, I suppose.

Really, if you answered that way, you're not alone. I recently discovered a little book by David de Rothschild (kind of sounds like he could buy a solution to climate change, eh?) called The Live Earth Global Warming Survival Handbook.

When I opened it up to check out the "77 Essential Skills to Stop Climate Change--or Live Through It" I found shocking advice. Shocking! "Green your ride," it says.

Are you kidding me? I may be the only person on Earth who remembers the pre-Katrina gas lines and traffic jams, but I'm sure that your Prius, if it's able to 4-wheel it across ice and through floods, will eventually need gas before you arrive at your equatorial destination. And fossil fuels (not to mention roads) are going to be hard to come by.

In fact, every manufactured product that relies on extensive infrastructure for distribution is going to be bottlenecked in its place of origin. (For real survival advice, check out 98.6 Degrees: The Art of Keeping Your Ass Alive by Cody Lunden instead.)

VICTIMS OF OUR BRAINS
We are ALL thinking that tomorrow will be just like today in the most fundamental ways. Even if tomorrow happens to come with an ice age or a flood or a drought or a fight to the death for the last drop of clean, fresh drinking water.

It's the most natural thing in the world. It's actually how the human brain works.

First, we are completely bounded by the limits of our imagination. And it's really, really hard to imagine an ice age, much less an instant ice age descending with speed and violence (to borrow a phrase from Fred Pearce, whose book, With Speed and Violence: Why Scientists Fear Tipping Points in Climate Change, is totally worth a look-see).

And second, our brains have the best auto pilot technology on the planet. It keeps us from actually thinking about breathing, blinking, sex...all the elements of survival. We are like just like the fish, who, as they say, don't know they live in water until they're flopping around on the dock.

The mission here at Inner Neanderthal is to support you in addressing these two barriers. Why?

First, because I care. And more important: it's only when we can imagine together what will really change about our lives that we will be able to really change our lives.

A NEWLY PURCHASED WEAPON
I was terribly inspired by the individual who responded to the First Inner Neanderthal Survey question "What one thing would you pack for the instant ice age?" with: "A newly purchased weapon to protect my family and cans of gasoline."

It's not entirely clear to me whether this survivalist meant that (s)he would purchase a side arm to protect the family AND the gasoline a la Mad Max, or that (s)he would purchase said weapon to protect the family and would also bring along cans of gasoline, but it's a great answer in both cases!

First and foremost, it recognizes that times of extreme changes are fraught with instability and danger. 9-1-1 won't be taking our calls; we'll need to protect ourselves, and we will have a deep, primordal instinct to protect our progeny.

And, this brilliant answer captures our truest auto-pilot reality: we are so dependent upon fossil fuel that, even in the face of its most dire consequence, we still won't be able to live without it! We are way, way, way past addiction, baby! We simply cannot imagine life without gasoline.

What do we need for surivial? Air, water and fuel.

Some of us, of course, also need a few dozen bolts of Gortex.

It's not just the weather!

We are learning from global warming that we humans shape the weather. But we've known for a long time that the weather also shapes us--what we wear, how we live, and even what we believe.

In ancient times it was common for people to believe that weather was a function the gods. Floods, storms, volcanoes were all signs of distress in the heavens. Sacrifices and sacraments could appease the gods and change the course of the seasons, it was hoped.

Are we really so different? Maybe. Click Here to take the Inner Neanderthal survey on religion and spirituality.

But plenty of Christians believe that wild weather is the prelude to the Armageddon or the Rapture. And plenty of Indigenous Peoples still engage in seasonal rituals to entice the rains to fall, the sun to shine, and the crops to grow. Personally, I'll confess to plenty of superstitions...ideas and icons that I've collected from around the globe.

With global warming already melting ice and permafrost and changing lifestyles around the world, it's time for us to consider what climate change means for our humanity. What does global warming mean for our spirit? For our spiritual practices?

As the weather gets more and more confusing, wild and dangerous, will we become more superstitious, more fervent in our worship or our rituals, more suspicious of strangers who believe differently from us? Or will we become more rational, purposeful and scientific?

As water becomes more scarce and flood and drought threaten the food supply, how will we respond?

As this video reminds us, the weather isn't just the weather. The climate isn't separate from us. We are wrapped up together with our environs, not unlike the ancients who prayed to sun gods, sacrificed to the volcanoes, and carried talismen to honor the wind, water and lightning.

There's a Little Bit of Spirit in Everything We Do

I was born in the Chinese Year of the Dragon.

What could be better? The astrological promise of this sign is power, luck, success and well-being.

Plus Chinese dragons are fascinating to look at...strong, intricate, colorful, mystical. So when a particularly exquisite and colorful dragon caught my eye at the one and only East West Cafe in Tacoma, Washington and the waiter said I could take it home, I was thrilled.

But as I ate, I found it increasingly difficult to imagine that the waiter was really empowered to give away the art...And I was a little worried about the consequences of hijacking such a powerful creature, even by accident.

So, I simply enjoyed my Garlic Prawn and said goodbye to the lucky dragon on the way out.

And then I got to thinking...what do I really know about this ancient symbol?

I've read a few books and many more placemats at Chinese restaurants. I feel a certain respect for the Chinese astrological system and the stories that come with it. I certainly understand why feng shi--the ancient art of placement--instructs us to turn the fire-breathing creatures away from the Wood elements.

But, it's not my religion and I certainly don't know anything of the cultural nuance surrounding any of the signs. Nor do I have any idea what might be offensive...perhaps I should have taken the dragon home from the restaurant after all?

From here it was a small leap to the question that's on my mind today. (Yes, I really do live a life of leaping from one idea to the next.)

In the event of sudden ice age--or for that matter, any other climate catastrophe that sends us running for cover--what religious objects, good luck charms, icons or talismen are we likely to take with us? Perhaps it will be on purpose, perhaps by reflex. Perhaps we will gather up some object because it is beautiful or meaningful to us, not really knowing what it will mean to the people we meet along the way.

What will these choices mean for us along the way? Over time? As we arrive in new cultures with different traditions and values? As we arrive in new places that have the same symbols but embue them with different meaning?

I am reminded of the book The Red Tent, as well as the Biblical passages it is based on. The women in this story insist on taking certain stones with them as they pull up their roots. The men demand that these idols be left behind. The women, who perceive them not as idols but as ritual objects, hide them and the stones begin a secret life that is eventually made public at great risk.

It doesn't seem so far fetched to wonder how we will protect our own spiritual lives in the face of disaster. We may have one answer if we are surrounded by those of similar mind and a different answer altogether if we are surrounded by those whose beliefs are radically different from our own. Where will we compromise? Where would we be willing to martyr?

In the event that the ice age arrives instantly (or tsunamis are roaring ashore or drought has sent us packing in a search for water), what religious or superstious icons are you likely to be bringing along? And importantly, how do you think your choices will be received when you arrive at your new destination?

Click Here to take a 3-question survey on religion and superstition on the go

Try This!

Thanks to my daughter, who shared this with me some years ago and keeps bringing me back to it.

Created by the Earth Day Network, it measures how much energy your day-to-day lifestyle really takes. You may be surprised!

http://www.earthday.net/footprint/index_reset.asp?pid=6293298617843219

Thermohaline and other minor details

Well, here's some happy news. When my favorite anthropologist recently said to me, "Why are you blogging about an ice age? Isn't it global warming?" I set out to see if perhaps I was misinformed.

And as it turns out, I am. Sort of. There is an instant ice age theory (more properly known as thermohaline interruption). But theory and reality have not yet converged.

Theory goes like this: the ocean's currents together with surface winds control the temperature of the ocean, and therefore, the climate. Currents form as denser, colder, saltier water falls to the bottom and is pushed around the globe by the landscape at the bottom of the sea. As hotter temperatures increase evaporation and therefore precipiation (freshwater) as well as melting of sea ice (also less salty), the exchange of water from the surface to the deep curents slows down, interrupting the normal process that warms the Earth as a whole. Voila, an ice age. At least in Europe and other locales attached to the Northern Atlantic.

Reality goes like this: it appears that surface winds blowing across the ocean are playing a larger part in ocean temperature than previously anticipated. So at least for now, sudden glaciation is less likely than certain other outcomes, my personal favorite being: "mass extinction events. "

Extinction of whom, I'd like to know? Humans?

Well, don't count us out. Wiki says: "Mass extinctions affect most major taxonomic groups present at the time — birds, mammals, reptiles, amphibians, fish, invertebrates and other simpler life forms."

Perhaps the reticulated pythons and howler monkeys will go first and then I will be able to execute my beach-living-with-a-Jeep plan after all. That would be happy news, don't you think?
Most of you also seem to be expecting happy news.

Based on survey data so far, most of you are planning to fly off to warm places with family and friends in the event of a climatic catastrophe.

If you haven't yet taken the survey, click here and answer 5 easy questions. Look for the results in few short days--provided we haven't yet gone the way of the woolly mammoth. Click Here to take survey

Where are you headed?

You're right. It is totally unlikely we'll wake up to the Ice Age any time soon, drama of The Day After Tomorrow notwithstanding. But you never know what you will wake up to.

One friend of mine was busy enjoying life along the Florida coast when the rising tide washed away the foundation of the building that sits between her and the actual sandy beach. Sudden beach front at no charge! What could be better?

Having always nurtured the dream of living on the beach, I was a bit jealous of my friend. And so I decided to make a more reliable plan to secure a sandy and tropical future for myself.

Doubting there's a spot left in America where I could afford a beachfront, I started my search abroad. Central America seemed like a good option, close to home and all, but--the Spanish colonial legacy is lease-hold real estate, meaning you don't actually own the land, just the house you put on it. And that is subject to squatters' rights and political upheaval and other dreary realities.

So I turned my attention to Belize where real estate law is more similar to the United States and the official language is English. Plus there hasn't been a major hurricane since 1960 something.

Belize doesn't really have a sewer system and you are required to capture gray water for certain functions that might be better suited to the processed variety, but we all have to make compromises to achieve our dreams, I suppose.

In Belize, the beach ends at the place where the jungle begins. And the jungle is full of reticulated pythons. And howler monkeys. Yikes!

For awhile, I imagined I could stay away from the snakes (although I did have a few creepy dreams about pythons wrapping themselves around the roll bar of the convertible jeep that comes with my beach living fantasy)...

Then I remembered my friend in Florida and realized that the rising tides might gobble up my newly purchased sand and condemn me to sharing a treehouse with a howler monkey and worrying constantly about reticulated pythons who might have taken tree climbing lessons from the evil snake The Jungle Book.

Not that life imitates art.

So, I came to my senses and made a trip to Maui. So much to recommend it--like familiar laws and flush toilets, not to mention the outstanding red snapper at the Fish Market in Pai'a.

As I said, I can't really afford an American beach, so I decided that a timeshare beach would be good enough for now. The salesman was very nice and incredibly enthusiastic about the condos he was showing us. "What's the set back?" I asked--meaning the distance between the edge of the water and the edge of the foundation.

"A hundred feet," he said, with great pride.

Apparently, the average customer sees a special value in being so close to the surf. He clearly did not expect my next question. "So what's your global warming plan?" I asked tentatively.

"Do you really think we need one of those?" He asked, laughing it off.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

We went back and forth. I told him the Florida story. He calmly assured me that wouldn't happen on his island paradise.

Really? I've got a place for you in Florida...it's really cheap...You can enjoy it while I vacation at my new timeshare in Kauai. It's on a 100-foot cliff. Instant waterfront--the day after tomorrow!

Seriously, exponential global warming increases the probabiltiy of instant change. What will you do if you find yourself sharing with howler monkeys a treehouse surrounded by pythons, and without flush toilets or running water?

Click on this link to Survey Monkey and answer 5 easy questions. Then check back here in a few days for results. http://www.surveymonkey.com/s.aspx?sm=dy2wyCZEQVN7PAO1ovS1vw_3d_3d

And be sure to send every condo salesman you know to my blog! THANKS, from your most forward thinking NeanderGirl

Welcome to Inner Neanderthal!

Here on the Washington Coast, winter means rain. Lots and lots of rain coming down in buckets, in sheets, in downpours. In the dark of winter--when the sun begins to set at 3:30 or 4:00 in the afternoon--the rain falls so hard that it bounces back up from the pavement, blurring the line between earth and sky.

This year, the rain has been replaced by snow. Historical amounts of the stuff. At one point, the the 30-foot snow banks on the side of the mountain passes sent avalanches rumbling across the road.

Really, if this is global warming, why is it so darned cold?

According to the best climate change models, there will be places that get super cold and places that get super hot and places that get super wet and places that get super dry. But that's just the global warming part of the puzzle.

Melting arctic ice will change the oceans, potentially triggering a rapid cooling phase that will result in an instant ice age for the northern hemishpere. Yikes!

Forget the polar bears and the corporate interests and the gas guzzling Hummer drivers and the American failure to sign the Kyoto Accord! All that contention, all that blame doesn't do much. It doesn't even make me feel better.

So, let's focus on something more useful! Embrace your inner Neanderthal, strap on your snow shoes, sharpen your ice axe and get moving! What's your plan for survival and safety?