MiniMonos
The Three Gifts of Earth Hour
Earth Hour 2010 has passed by–has its message passed us by too? In this post, I express my personal experience of seeking to find the meaningfulness behind celebrating an occasion that I believe matters.
In the days following Earth Hour, news stories jostled between it having been the best Earth Hour yet, to claims of less lights off than previous Earth Hours (see, for example, Fewer lights off for Earth Hour). I saw a number of online discussions suggesting that people “waste their time” observing this occasion, and I was blown away when I learned that some people intended to turn on all of their lights to celebrate Edison Hour, thereby thumbing their nose at any initiative trying to raise awareness of our real and present energy and climate challenges! My disappointment deepened when I visited a regular forum, only to read uncivil language shouting at the “preachy people” to go and turn off their computer forever and to stop “sitting in the dark” when more practical things could be done.
It is a truism to say that the environment would benefit more from doing something practical like planting trees in the local reserve instead of turning off our lights for an hour. But that killjoy attitude totally misses the point of what this occasion represents: Earth Hour is an opportunity to learn from a purposeful interruption to our “energy-on-tap” lives. And ironically, did those wanting to celebrate an "Edison Hour" realize that Edison once said: "I'd put my money on the sun and solar energy. What a source of power! I hope we don't have to wait until oil and coal run our before we tackle that." Indeed, their very "rebelliousness" of switching on all the lights acknowledged that energy is something we all have a choice about, either to switch on, or to switch off. I do hope those who vetoed Earth Hour in favor of "practical things" are actually out there planting the trees, untying plastic bottle rings from birds’ necks and participating in community restoration projects...
The Three Gifts of Earth Hour
Although saddened at seeing this symbolic event maligned and resented, it hasn't swayed my conviction in its importance. I’d like to share with you my own experience of Earth Hour 2010, spent with a bright young person born this millennium. A much anticipated occasion in our household, we reminded one another in the lead-up to Earth Hour to set aside Saturday night’s hour: no TV, no radio, no computer, no lights! Things were busy as usual and as the hour approached, we hadn’t managed to “plan” anything specific, although there were plenty of suggestions. Dinner over, with 10 minutes left, I realized we didn't have any candle holders, so we had to fish make-do's out of the recycling bin. Two nice clean jars and a saucer later, we placed our candles on the table, lit them in readiness, took the phone off the hook, shut down computers, and checked that all the lights were off. My son advised that we were not allowed to use “anything that is powered smartly”.
At 8:30pm, we switched off the last light and excitedly rushed to the window to see if others were doing the same across our lovely hillside view. At first it seemed that other houses weren’t participating; a house across the way had its large TV images flickering constantly, another house had many lights on, and the hillside seemed its usual brightness. My son quickly nicknamed the lit-up houses “the Wild West” because, he told me, “they face West and aren’t turning off their lights!”. Then, as we waited patiently, we started to see lights turning off. Bit by bit, there was a distinctive change and my son became more excited as he saw people taking part. All of a sudden he cried: “Look! The lights are out in that house and they’ve turned off their big TV! They’re doing Earth Hour too!” Eager to see that others were also participating in Earth Hour, the anticipation of waiting while it took up to five minutes past the starting time paid off–many others were participating too! My son’s excitement was infectious, and I realized then that the sense of “solidarity” with my many neighbors sharing and acknowledging the point of the event was the first gift of participating in Earth Hour.
We sat at the table in front of the glowing candles. At this point, I realized that there was a full hour ahead of sitting there and wondered if this was going to work. Would he get bored with "just talk"? Would we feel tempted to go and do something with a light on? Should we go for a walk like we did for last Earth Hour? I decided to ask him what he wanted to do. He laughed and said we could do shadow tricks on the wall with the flashlight, adding that “This feels just like when we go camping, only at home! I love this!” Suddenly he proclaimed: “I want to read!” He took his flashlight and went and found his current favorite library book, The Comic Strip History of the World. When it was my turn, my flashlight alighted on the disarray of books on my desk. Not having planned this, I hadn’t a clue what I felt like reading but the one that leaped out was Al Gore’s Our Choice. “Why not?”, I thought, “It’s apt!” We settled in to read around the candles. The glow was magical–and warm too–the peace entire, broken into only by the gentle, melancholic sound of the morepork owls (ruru) in the trees outside.
The Three Gifts of Earth Hour
Earth Hour 2010 has passed by–has its message passed us by too? In this post, I express my personal experience of seeking to find the meaningfulness behind celebrating an occasion that I believe matters.
In the days following Earth Hour, news stories jostled between it having been the best Earth Hour yet, to claims of less lights off than previous Earth Hours (see, for example, Fewer lights off for Earth Hour). I saw a number of online discussions suggesting that people “waste their time” observing this occasion, and I was blown away when I learned that some people intended to turn on all of their lights to celebrate Edison Hour, thereby thumbing their nose at any initiative trying to raise awareness of our real and present energy and climate challenges! My disappointment deepened when I visited a regular forum, only to read uncivil language shouting at the “preachy people” to go and turn off their computer forever and to stop “sitting in the dark” when more practical things could be done.
It is a truism to say that the environment would benefit more from doing something practical like planting trees in the local reserve instead of turning off our lights for an hour. But that killjoy attitude totally misses the point of what this occasion represents: Earth Hour is an opportunity to learn from a purposeful interruption to our “energy-on-tap” lives. And ironically, did those wanting to celebrate an "Edison Hour" realize that Edison once said: "I'd put my money on the sun and solar energy. What a source of power! I hope we don't have to wait until oil and coal run our before we tackle that." Indeed, their very "rebelliousness" of switching on all the lights acknowledged that energy is something we all have a choice about, either to switch on, or to switch off. I do hope those who vetoed Earth Hour in favor of "practical things" are actually out there planting the trees, untying plastic bottle rings from birds’ necks and participating in community restoration projects...
The Three Gifts of Earth Hour
Although saddened at seeing this symbolic event maligned and resented, it hasn't swayed my conviction in its importance. I’d like to share with you my own experience of Earth Hour 2010, spent with a bright young person born this millennium. A much anticipated occasion in our household, we reminded one another in the lead-up to Earth Hour to set aside Saturday night’s hour: no TV, no radio, no computer, no lights! Things were busy as usual and as the hour approached, we hadn’t managed to “plan” anything specific, although there were plenty of suggestions. Dinner over, with 10 minutes left, I realized we didn't have any candle holders, so we had to fish make-do's out of the recycling bin. Two nice clean jars and a saucer later, we placed our candles on the table, lit them in readiness, took the phone off the hook, shut down computers, and checked that all the lights were off. My son advised that we were not allowed to use “anything that is powered smartly”.
At 8:30pm, we switched off the last light and excitedly rushed to the window to see if others were doing the same across our lovely hillside view. At first it seemed that other houses weren’t participating; a house across the way had its large TV images flickering constantly, another house had many lights on, and the hillside seemed its usual brightness. My son quickly nicknamed the lit-up houses “the Wild West” because, he told me, “they face West and aren’t turning off their lights!”. Then, as we waited patiently, we started to see lights turning off. Bit by bit, there was a distinctive change and my son became more excited as he saw people taking part. All of a sudden he cried: “Look! The lights are out in that house and they’ve turned off their big TV! They’re doing Earth Hour too!” Eager to see that others were also participating in Earth Hour, the anticipation of waiting while it took up to five minutes past the starting time paid off–many others were participating too! My son’s excitement was infectious, and I realized then that the sense of “solidarity” with my many neighbors sharing and acknowledging the point of the event was the first gift of participating in Earth Hour.
We sat at the table in front of the glowing candles. At this point, I realized that there was a full hour ahead of sitting there and wondered if this was going to work. Would he get bored with "just talk"? Would we feel tempted to go and do something with a light on? Should we go for a walk like we did for last Earth Hour? I decided to ask him what he wanted to do. He laughed and said we could do shadow tricks on the wall with the flashlight, adding that “This feels just like when we go camping, only at home! I love this!” Suddenly he proclaimed: “I want to read!” He took his flashlight and went and found his current favorite library book, The Comic Strip History of the World. When it was my turn, my flashlight alighted on the disarray of books on my desk. Not having planned this, I hadn’t a clue what I felt like reading but the one that leaped out was Al Gore’s Our Choice. “Why not?”, I thought, “It’s apt!” We settled in to read around the candles. The glow was magical–and warm too–the peace entire, broken into only by the gentle, melancholic sound of the morepork owls (ruru) in the trees outside.