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 When you work in non-profit venues—that is, something low-impact or even beneficial for the earth—it’s easy to get disillusioned, even bitter, with human nature. I know I do.
I mean, okay, some couples wake up and smile at one another and say, “Good morning, dearsexybearchocolate-toes! It’s a beautiful day! I feel great about the world! I feel great about me! And I feel great about you since you are great enough to be with me!”
These couples are usually corporate lawyers or advertising execs. Who are each married to someone else.
Let’s assume you are not the above. Let’s pray to God you are not. Let’s assume you daily see—i.e., notice—i.e., work in a field that exposes the earth being destroyed, the non-human animals being annihilated, the smog hanging low, the traffic and human populations building up. It’s easy to wake up looking like you’ve been sucking on a moldy lemon. In fact, you probably insist upon looking this way. You feel this way. It is this way. It’s important to emote this way! Besides, you’ve built a style and personal mannerism around planetary gloom and intellectual disbiosis. Everything you own is sleek black, mushroom brown or has hemp in it. Even if you’re now bored with your own dourness, how can you afford to buy a new wardrobe to match any other personality? Much less, what would you do with your hair?
My guess: everyone needs a Butch. That’s right. Get all Butch about it.
The great thing about Butch—our newest foster dog—is that he’s ancient, he’s been tossed out into a pound for being too old, his teeth are rotting, his joints are a mess, his eyes and ears don’t work, his back is hunched, no one has given a damn about him in years—if ever—but after only three days of fun he’s actually starting to see the fun things in life. Granted, for Butch, what makes life jiggy is a fresh pile of horse poop to stick his shnozz into. (Butch inhales, btw.) Horse poop is the ne plus ultra of his existence. I have no doubt Butch will exit this life thinking, “Damn! Why didn’t I discover horse poop earlier? It could have been a wonderful world! Sixteen wasted years!”
But Butch never had the benefit of a great stinky mess to revel in. Because he was locked in an uncaring home, then an institutional cage, and then another cage at a rescue, he’s never gotten to be a real dog and use his nose (using their sniffer daily is something all dogs love and need). Instead, he went through life sad, possibly embittered, certainly wanting better.
It feels the same for all of us ‘non-elites.’
Yet, it’s very different.
Humans deprived Butch of the things that make a dog happy. He was captive by us—a dominant species. We as humans—the dominant species—can let ourselves out, walk ourselves, feed ourselves, choose what makes us happy and follow it. With no leash. At least no leash we don’t hold ourselves.
We just have to break away from the, well, the dominant human species. At least the most banal of ourselves. The corporate lawyers and advertising execs, for example, who show us on a minute-by-minute basis what a good life looks like, but have no clue what it feels like.
It’s possible to be happy in many situations—even a seemingly desperate, absurdly surreal situation where one notices, daily, the downward trend of our own planet. It’s possible to be a happy non-profit worker. That’s why you went into NP stuff right? To be happier in your life? The way to this happiness is to find the small (not large, you are never in control of the large), small earth-friendly and happy things that make you smile. Pursue them. Revel in them. Social cachet be damned. Find your own ‘stinky mess,’ whether it be wine, women, men, song, Sufi-dancing, yoga, organic gardening, tofu-making, vegan dinner-party throwing, etc. When you find your crazy-happy, devote the other 75% of your time to work: Chihuahua rescue, gun control, fair wage, NPOs, Gorilla aid, conifer-love, politics, green building, AIDS research, peace work, saving the dolphins—all are good and worthy. And all can be super-depressing.
Spend 25% of your time on crazy-happy. We all need you to! The world doesn’t get changed by depressive poets alone.
What I’m saying is, don’t forget to have fun! Don’t forget to sniff and get all Butch about it! Nobody needs to die feeling like they’ve been sucking on a lemon all their life. And nobody should. Not even the most dedicated among us.
Everyone—even the most dedicated eco-hero—needs to have fun. Let loose. Laugh.
Get all Butch and stuff. He’d want that. Believe me.
Updated 7/10/10; originally posted 5/12/09.
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Joy Nicholson lives in New Mexico with her husband where they have a special-needs dog rescue. She has published two novels, The Tribes of Palos Verdes: A Novel and The Road to Esmeralda: A Novel, but is mainly interested in non-fiction animal-welfare issues now.
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