Abby Quillen

Freelance Content Marketing Writer and Editor

Abby Quillen

Learning Outside the Lines

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Recently I heard an interview with the herbalist Cascade Anderson Geller. She shared a story about a teacher and healer she met in the remote Choco region of Northern Ecuador, where she went to learn about the local plants and healing methods.

Geller had been suffering from carpal tunnel syndrome and had consulted scads of doctors and bodywork practitioners in the United States. She didn’t tell the healer about the carpal tunnel, but he immediately went to work on her wrists. The next morning, she woke without the nagging tingling and pain she’d been coping with for months.

Later the healer saw her consulting a book about the plants in the region and approached her. He sniffed the book and ran his hands over it, then asked if he could borrow it.

When he returned it, he said, “You know, you can’t really learn anything about the plants except from the plants themselves.”

He asked her what the book was made of. She told him, and he explained that the reason the book must help her was because it was made from trees, and the trees were speaking to her.

“It was profound,” Geller says. “But of course, I still like books, because that’s what I was trained with. Whatever we were trained with as a child, that’s what we relate to and what we go back to. … With our training in academics, it’s a stretch to trust any other source.”

Geller’s experience reminds me of my journey through pregnancy and birth several years ago.

I grew up in a house filled with books. I always loved school, and books were a huge part of my childhood and my life. My love of words and research have served me well in many areas. They helped me excel in college. They’ve helped me get jobs. They help me write for publication and understand many things about the world and about people. No one can deny that words have power and that books can change us, heal us, teach us.

But several years ago, like Geller, I realized that books also have limits. I was nearing the end of my pregnancy, and like so many expectant mothers, I’d read towers of books and endless magazine articles and websites about pregnancy and birth – about what to expect during labor, about how to handle contractions, about breathing and positions and the various “methods” of coping.

I felt like I was lost in a wilderness of techniques – Bradley, Birthing From Within, Hypnobabies, with their various colloquialisms filling my mind. Which one would help me tackle this Herculean thing I had to do sooner and sooner with each passing minute?

With just weeks left in my pregnancy, I had an epiphany. I didn’t need to cram for birth like I was taking the LSAT. I didn’t need to manage it like I was putting on a benefit concert. I just needed to show up and experience this thing, whatever it was going to be – the pain, the emotions, the exhaustion, the joy. I just had to live it.

It was such an incredible relief.

I would tell you more about the actual birth, but I don’t remember it well. I do know that the experience changed me more profoundly than any book I’ve ever read. And afterward came a truly Herculean task that would make all my preparation for birth seem absurd and hilarious – parenting. Just weeks after my son was born, as I paced the halls with him, I knew that birth would be the easiest part of our journey together.

Who would I turn to for advice? Dr. Spock? Dr. Sears? Penelope Leach? The Baby Whisperer? The Smartest Baby on the Block? How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk? Love and Logic? I read them all, and many more.

Then my son turned one, his personality started to emerge, and the parenting books began gathering dust. I’m sure it helped me in some way to read them, especially the ones that emphasize kindness, listening, compassion, warmth, and connection. Those are good reminders for all walks of life.

But parenting books can also get in the way. Recently I was talking to a writer friend and mentioned a how-to-write-fiction-book that I love, and he replied, “I can’t read any more how-to books. They just make me a worse writer, because I stop listening to myself.” I think the same can be true of parenting books.

Learning Outside the Lines #parenting #family #learning

I used to run into another mom at the park occasionally. She had a new baby and a five-year-old, and she was training to become a parenting educator. She loved to talk about parenting books. Her favorite was How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk. She had charts in her bedroom, with scripts to help her remember what to say when dealing with behavior problems. If her five-year-old was acting out at the breakfast table, she would excuse herself for a moment to consult the dialogues.

She is a smart person and a loving and patient mother. But I noticed something strange about her interactions with her kids. They were stilted, scripted, and unreal. She wasn’t being herself.

That’s when I decided that being ourselves with our kids is the most important thing we can do, more important than handling every behavior issue perfectly, more important than having a baby who sleeps all night or a toddler who eats vegetables.

As my son grows older, I’m learning to trust things that you can’t learn in books, namely my instincts and my relationship with him. I try to let them guide me in knowing what to do when he’s tired, stressed out, sad, or angry. I don’t always do the right thing. I’m not always patient; I’m not always kind; and I’m not always fair. Neither is my son. So I’ve also come to trust in the amazing power of the apology.

Mostly I trust that just as it was when I was growing up, family life will be messy. It won’t fit into scripts or how-tos. Books will never capture its insanity, or its joy.

[clickToTweet tweet=”Family life is messy. Books will never capture its insanity or joy. It must be lived. #parenting” quote=”Family life is messy. Books will never capture its insanity or joy. It must be lived.” theme=”style1″]

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"It is the absurdity of family life, its raggedness, that is at once its redemption and true nobility." - James McBride #parenting #family #quote

What do you think? Are there things we have to learn outside the lines?

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Car-Free Chronicles

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When my son Ezra was an infant, he was no fan of the car. Car rides, even short jaunts around town, invariably included crying and multiple comfort stops. But, at some point, my almost-three-year-old became a huge admirer of the automobile – perhaps right around the time we sold ours.

“Mama, we need a truck. A big, huge truck. We can drive it all over the streets,” he remarks as we walk past a neighbor’s pickup.

“Dada, we should buy a car at the store,” he insists as we cross the parking lot to the grocery store. “We need a car.”

On the rare occasions when we rent a car, Ezra is ecstatic. “I can’t drive the car yet,” he explains as he crawls into his car seat. “My feet don’t reach the gas pedals. I will drive it when I’m this tall.” He waves his hand a few feet over his head.

Sometimes I wonder if our car-free experiment, now in its eighth month, is cementing our son’s love for all things automobile. One day he’ll undoubtedly drive a monster truck and eschew gardens, clotheslines, and hand-washing dishes.

But if our experiment has made my son more enamored with cars, it has only reinforced my husband and my ambivalence about car ownership.

A few weeks ago, my mother-in-law flew in from New York and rented a car for the week. We loved seeing her, and having a car around was great in lots of ways. We ran all kinds of errands and visited both the coast and the forest. I was able to zip over to a nearby town to interview someone for an article. My husband and I marveled at the convenience and warmth of cruising across town while rain pounded down. We shot sympathetic glances at cyclists who passed by us dripping wet and dressed head-to-toe in rain gear.

Then midway through my mother-in-law’s visit, my husband and I biked across town to run an errand.

“I feel alive again,” my husband said as we pedaled down the path. I couldn’t help but agree. For all the convenience of the car, I had really missed walking and riding my bike.

Plus, as my husband mused, car ownership is expensive — not only because of the car’s price tag, $3.80 a gallon gas, and the inevitable maintenance. With the exception of the ocean and hiking trails (which I love and miss visiting more often), we noticed that the car tended to take us to places where the main activity is spending money – notably malls, box stores, and home improvement centers. We hadn’t visited these places in about eight months, and we hadn’t missed them.

Apparently my husband and I are not alone in our ambivalence about car ownership. Car sharing was all over the news last week, when Zipcar, a car-sharing service with 560,000 members in 14 cities, went public on Thursday and raised an impressive $174.3 million in its initial public offering. Peer-to-peer car share services, like RelayRides, which allow car owners to rent out their own vehicles, have also been getting a lot of press.

The Oregon House of Representatives just passed a car sharing bill with overwhelming support. If it passes in the senate, it will allow car owners to rent their cars to friends or neighbors through a car sharing service without fear of losing insurance policies or facing increased rates.

As our planned one-year car-free experiment nears an end, we go back and forth about whether to buy another vehicle. Oddly, my husband, who once drove the car almost exclusively to commute to work and shop for groceries, is the one who’s more convinced we can live without one. He’s adapted amazingly well to commuting about 12 miles a day on his bike, and he’s in the best shape of his life because of it.

I rarely drove the car when we owned one, preferring to walk and ride my bike, but I’m more torn about whether we should buy another one this summer. I don’t want a car loan, and I don’t miss the stress and worries involved with maintaining an older vehicle. On the other hand, in a few months, we’ll have a new baby, who won’t be able to ride in a bike trailer or bike seat for quite awhile. I’m a huge fan of walking, and Eugene has decent public transportation, but I know a car will make daily life with an infant and three-year-old easier, a seductive idea as I contemplate caring for two little ones.

Hopefully car sharing will become an option for more of us soon, making decisions like my family’s easier and providing extra income opportunities for those who invest in car ownership. In the meantime, at least we know how Ezra will vote when we have to decide whether to shop for another vehicle.

As my mother-in-law packed, Ezra cried and told her how much he was going to miss her. Then, as we lugged her bags out to the rental car to say our goodbyes, we realized he was also going to miss something else.

“Grandma, please don’t take the red car,” he cried. “Can’t you walk to New York?”

Interested in reading more about car-free living? Check out these posts:

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Happy News

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As spring blossoms around us, we’re anticipating an exciting change for our little family. We’re expecting another baby, due at the end of August.

It feels entirely different than the first time, mostly because there’s much less research and preparation involved this go around. We already have an amazing team of midwives, who we’re thrilled to be working with again.

We took a minimalist approach to baby gear last time and found that we had everything we needed, so we’re planning to do the same this time. And since we waited to find out our son’s gender until the big day (and we’re planning to do that again this time), we’re well-stocked with gender-neutral newborn apparel.

Really, all there seems to be to do is wait, mull over names, and devise strategies for keeping up with two little people. Apparently other people are doing it, so at least we know it’s theoretically possible.

From Farm to Table

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“Where do you get your wheat?” I was about to ask.

My husband and I were out for a rare dinner alone at a nice restaurant, which advertises itself as exclusively local and organic. Next to us, a floor-to-ceiling board announced the night’s specials next to a list of farms where the food was grown.

I had just interviewed a local wheat farmer for an article and heard about a number of farmers in the Valley, who are switching from growing conventional grass seed, long the main crop in this part of the world, to growing organic grains for local markets. I was curious if this restaurant bought its wheat from one of the farmers I’d heard about.

But just as the waiter leaned in, and the question was about to leave my lips, I thought of this spoof of Portland, Oregon from the new show Portlandia, and I couldn’t bring myself to ask.

It’s true – Oregon is in the midst of a farm-to-table restaurant boom. I’ve been to three restaurants in the last few months with boards listing local farms. One is decorated with a mural of the rolling hills where the restaurant’s produce is grown, and the menu includes photos of the smiling farmers who grow the food.

Of course, farm-to-table restaurants are not new. Alice Waters has been serving up local, organic fare at Chez Pannise in San Francisco for decades. What is new about the locavore restaurants opening in this area is that more and more of them are affordable. One of the restaurants I ate in is a brew-pub and another serves “healthy fast food”, with all dishes under $10.

Moreover, just as the clip of Portlandia suggests, local restaurateurs (as well as grocers and bakers) seem to be forging closer relationships than ever with local farmers – and all parties are coming out ahead.

“It became a heck of a lot more fun to farm,” the wheat farmer I interviewed told me about his farm’s switch to growing food for local markets. “It’s infinitely more rewarding than just growing a product for a guy that you never know.”

We consumers might be the biggest winners. I’m a huge advocate of growing a garden, shopping at farmers’ markets, and cooking from scratch, but the reality is, Americans eat out a lot. In a 2006 survey, the average American family spent 42 percent of their food budget in restaurants.

When restaurants buy from local farms, our meals are more nutritious and taste better, since the food hasn’t made the 1500-mile road trip most produce takes before consumption in the U.S. And just think about all of the pollution and carbon not spewing into our air, and all of the money staying within our communities.

Besides, as a consumer, you can always put down the menu, ask the waiter to save your seats, and go meet the farmer who grew your wheat.

Are farm-to-table restaurants cropping up in your area? What do you think of the trend? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

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Wildlife-Friendly Food

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“Eating is an agricultural act.” – Wendell Berry

As you fly over the Midwest, you can look down on the seemingly endless patchwork of plots that make up much of our country. From the air, it’s striking how organized, clean, and antiseptic the nation’s farms look – almost more like factories than farmlands.

Humans have been farming for 10,000 years, but few of us have to think much about agriculture these days. Ninety percent of colonial Americans made their living in agriculture. Today less than two percent of us are farmers. Thus many people don’t think much about how farming has changed in the last 200 years.

For most of human history, farmers had no choice but to care for the health of the soil and ecosystems to some extent. Compost, manure, conservative tilling practices, crop rotation, beneficiary insects, and other natural allies were farmers’ only ways of ensuring healthy crops. But in the last century, petroleum-based fertilizers, pesticides, herbicides, and fungicides enabled farmers to buy fertility in bottles.

Today many consumers are concerned about the dangers of fertilizers and pesticides to human health. But one factor is often ignored: they and the “sterile” farming methods they’ve engendered have been disastrous to wildlife and ecosystems.

Today agriculture is the single biggest cause of habitat loss and endangered species. In the last century farmers across the nation have ripped out vegetation, cut down forests, eradicated insects, shot and killed predators, and filled in wetlands and streams. Wilderness is something increasingly contained in designated areas, not something tolerated on the farms and ranches that make up 40 percent of our nation.

Does it have to be this way? Can we protect the health of ecosystems and grow enough food to feed the world? Can we combine the unpredictable, fertile disorder of the wilderness with our craving for predictable, high-yield agriculture? Can farms be wilder?

I’ve been grappling with these questions for an article assignment over the last month, and in the process learning much about conservation and agriculture. I’ve gotten to talk to many interesting people on the subject and have been pouring over the writings of Wendell Berry, Aldo Leopold, and other thinkers, who’ve challenged notions of wild and tame.

I’ll share more about my article after it’s published. In the meantime, I thought you may like to know how you can support farmers who are protecting ecosystems, wildlife, and natural areas. A handful of eco-labels help consumers purchase food grown on farms that protect biodiversity. Some people call these labels “beyond organic”. If you don’t see them at your grocery store, consider asking the owner or manager to stock food certified by these organizations.

The Food Alliance

The Food Alliance launched its certification program in 1998 to designate producers and processors dedicated to social and environmental responsibility. To gain certification, farmers and ranchers must:

  • Conserve soil and water resources
  • Protect biodiversity and wildlife habitat
  • Provide safe and fair working conditions
  • Practice integrated pest management to minimize pesticide use and toxicity
  • Continually improve practices

To find Food Alliance Certified farms, ranches, processors, and distributors in your area, click here.

Salmon Safe

Salmon Safe certifies vineyards, ranches, and farms on the West Coast that are protecting endangered wild salmon and steelhead habitat. They require growers to:

  • Restore and protect waterways and wetlands
  • Prevent stream bank erosion and control sediment
  • Minimize the use of pesticides and contaminants
  • Keep livestock out of waterways

You can find out about some of the farms Salmon Safe has certified here and find a Salmon Safe wine here.

Demeter Biodynamic

Rudolf Steiner developed the concept of Biodynamic agriculture in 1924 in Germany, envisioning the farm as “a self-contained and self-sustaining organism”. In 1928 Demeter was formed in Europe to codify Steiner’s farming principles. Demeter requires farms and ranches to:

  • Avoid chemical pesticides and fertilizers
  • Utilize compost and cover crops
  • Set aside a minimum of 10% of total acreage for biodiversity

You can find a list of some Biodynamic farms here.

There are also a handful of excellent eco-labels that designate non-U.S. growers protecting wildlife and natural areas, including Bird Friendly, Fair Trade, and Rainforest Alliance.

You can find out more about all of these eco-labels and look up any that you see in the grocery store to make sure you can trust their claims at Consumer Reports’ greenerchoices.org.

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Attention Needed

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“Our attention is pure energy. It transforms whatever it comes into contact with,” writes David Servan Schrieber. “Animals and children know this far better than we do. Over and above food, warmth or money, it’s attention they’re really looking for when they come to us. And they bask in our attention like the sunshine….

“The ultimate proof that our attention is valuable is all the money spent on attracting us by advertisers and TV channels. ‘Look at me!’ they scream. Yet we are never sufficiently conscious of the rich resource we have.”

Lately I’ve been thinking about attention, namely the things that I’m paying attention to and the things that I’m not. In the last few months I’ve had significantly less writing time than usual. Too often when I finally get to sit down in front of my computer, I feel paralyzed. Where to begin? My mind zips through a list of ideas bursting with potential and a bigger list of projects simmering on the back burner.

Sometimes I long for a freelance writing coach to step in and help me navigate the push and pull of this work-at-home life, someone to tell me what to squeak into the diminutive windows of writing time I’m able to eke out at the moment.

Of course, there’s no such person. This is my journey. My path. I must decide which projects deserve my attention. The consequences feel weighty. As Karen Maezen Miller writes, “Whatever you pay attention to thrives; whatever you don’t pay attention to withers and dies.”

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What are you paying attention to right now?

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