Co-operative buying
picture by NatalieMaynor
Our family have been co-operatively buying organic fruit, veg and groceries for six years now. People often ask me why we buy co-operatively.
Well, first of all, because it offers us more choice. Supermarkets control the supply of specified varieties of fruits and vegetables. It might seem like there is plenty of choice, but really, only a limited selection of what is available ends up in the supermarket fruit and veg section. If you prefer to buy organic fruit and vegetables the selection can be even more limited and produce may be of inferior quality. So buying directly from the distributor, or the fresh food market, or the farmer, gives us access to a greater variety of fresher, produce in season.
Second of all, co-operative buying offers less choice. The impulse to buy a packet of chocolate biscuits or a tub of Maggie Beer ice-cream is eliminated when you shop from a spreadsheet. Less choice keeps it short and simple. I can shop for my staples in the space of five minutes and be done with it until I collect my box a few days later.
We buy co-operatively with a network of like-minded friends. Not all friends participate in the same co-ops. Our most formal co-operative is structured as a not-for-profit association and supplies us with the majority of our fresh food, bread, dairy and packaged grocery items. We have a bank account and we use a roster system to manage the running of the co-op. Our co-op buys fortnightly and we take turns to gather and box up each others’ individual orders.
In the off week I buy our other groceries in bulk; things like toilet paper, cleaning products and the packaged breakfast cereals we’ve become addicted to.
On a quarterly basis, we open the co-op to a wider network to buy fresh organic flours, grains and spices, seeds for sprouting and assorted baking staples.
Through yet another network of friends, our family buys bulk organic meat, direct from the farmer.
It sounds complicated, and for those who love their conveniences, maybe it is. But to have a superior organic product for a cheaper price is worth it. There are other benefits too.
Our distributor complimented us saying that we’re one of the longest lasting co-operatives he’s known. Many co-operatives come and go. It can be hard for a group of people to come to consensus on decisions, and get along as well. How is that we’ve managed to exist for these past six years?
Keeping a co-operative together requires some strict rules, and quite a few bendy ones. It demands good communication of every member, and sometimes that can be hard to facilitate. It requires a sense of ownership and accountability. And it helps to be punctual and keep commitments. Goodness, why would anyone want to buy co-operatively if it requires so much personal investment?
Good question.
I find co-operative buying such a life-enriching way to shop. We’re not dependent on the major supermarket chains for our dietary choices, and we feel like we’re part of a community of people who care about where their food comes from. We’ve become familiar with each others’ families, watched each others’ children grow and shared some really good, and frustrating, times. In equal measure.
Maybe I secretly yearn for the village green, and a way of life that is more connected to the immediate environment. I don’t believe life is to be lived in isolation from my neighbours. Maybe this social way of buying fills a personal need that modern supermarkets, and their anonymous shoppers, can’t fulfil. And maybe it gives me that modicum of additional control over who gets my shopper dollar, and maybe I like having that power.
June 27th, 2010 - Posted in consumerism, community, sustainability, ritual, wisdom, friendship, money | | 0 Comments
Hibernation
picture by Riebart
I’m pre-menstrual as hell. It probably isn’t obvious to anyone but my dear husband. Every month, just before my menstrual bleed, I have a couple of ‘hermit’ days, where I hide away and read a book, or shut myself away to write, or get obsessive-compulsive about de-cluttering the cupboards and weeding the garden. My darling man is good to me then. He takes the kids on adventures to the shops or out visiting and leaves me to be at home alone. Which is all I ever want. Thank goodness he understands.
I’m not usually prone to mood swings, but now that we’re approaching the winter solstice and the cold has settled in–yes, I know it’s just a few weeks–yes, I know how lucky we are in S-E Queensland but–I still feel blue in the middle of winter. Is it possible that PMS is more severe in the cooler months? Does anyone else find this to be the case?
I have never coped well with the cold, my extremities readily go blue and I need lots of layers to fend off the chill. I had one winter pregnancy, my third, which was delightful because my own ‘central heating’ protected me from feeling the dreaded cold. But when my July bub was born, we had quite a few overnight frosts in a row and I recall fretting over keeping our littlest person warm at night. Luckily, I didn’t have to lose much sleep over it because I didn’t have to reach far to check his covers. He was the first bub in our family to officially sleep in our bed from day one. It was an arrangement that worked for over two years. Bub number four, who got the benefit of our experience with the previous three, still visits us in the night sometimes. Sometimes we love it. Sometime we definitely don’t. But I digress.
Some say that SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) is a left-over from evolution, and since many animals still hibernate in the winter, who do we think we are to not have to do likewise? It seems a reasonable enough explanation to me. Here in the sub-tropics, it’s not a condition we regularly hear about but when we lived in the US it was commonly discussed, and there’s a whole pharmacy of drugs and supplements to help the less-evolved deal with winter blues.
Maybe it isn’t there to be fixed. Maybe it’s there to be worked with, obeyed. Just like my tendency to withdraw before my moontime. Maybe we’re meant to hibernate some of the winter away; sleep more, eat more, conserve our emotional and physical energy for when the weather warms up and we have more to share.
June 14th, 2010 - Posted in gratitude, partnership, ritual, wisdom, health, self-care | | 3 Comments
Milestone
picture by hasby
This week I turned the big 4-0, but I feel weirdly young and vital. I’ve spent the whole month of April celebrating my milestone with an enthusiasm that, one year ago, I could never have imagined possible.
What’s in a number, really? Several of my girlfriends shared their dread at the prospect of turning 40–positively middle-aged! Some found themselves dealing with several days of genuine grief, others felt a need to do something to affirm their youth or vigour, like go get some botox, or join a kick-boxing class. Surprisingly, I didn’t experience any of that. I feel quite delighted to be putting my 30s behind me and welcoming a new era in my life.
Perhaps this is because I’ve resolved any sense of regret in my life up to now. I may not have achieved the fame and fortune that I dreamed about in my youth, but life has been kind to me, throwing me enough fortunate surprises, rewards and moments of synchronicity that I feel truly grateful for my 40 years.
Finally, I have come into my own. I’m no longer the harried mother that I was just a short time ago, no longer housebound with babies and toddlers, no longer relying on my laptop to connect me with my community when times get rough. My youngest child is now four and gradually leaving her babyhood behind. I feel some degree of entitlement for my hard work. I don’t feel guilty about my new studies at uni taking me away from my family. This is my time!
And at the beginning of this month, husband and I managed our first full week holiday away from our little family–and the sky didn’t fall on us. In fact, the kids had such a good time with their aunty, they can’t wait for us to do it again! So gee, maybe we will!
I still have some celebrating to do with my woman-friends, and I feel so honoured to be in the position where people actually want to celebrate with me. My cup of gratitude is overflowing this month and I vow to savour this feeling for as long as I can. I want to share it with everyone I know for no reason other than that it makes me feel good.
For my birthday, the kids performed a play they created themselves about a baker with no eggs and no flour and a broken oven, who had to bake a birthday cake. We captured it, bloopers and all, on our newly acquired digital movie camera. I can’t think of a better present for my milestone birthday. Can you?
So happy birthday to me!
April 23rd, 2010 - Posted in personal growth, gratitude, community, ritual, wisdom, self-care | | 3 Comments
The power of Thank You
picture by T. A. Joseph
Doesn’t matter whether we personally need to be thanked for things we do, we still appreciate it. Even if the typical answer is, “no problem” or, “you’re welcome” that tiny acknowledgement has the power to save relationships. I have learned the hard way.
I used to convene a community group. The volunteers were all women, new mothers with very young children and babies, often with another on the way. Of course, that described me too, and I suppose, blinkered by leadership, I thought we were all motivated by the same things. Our little group was so damned productive, really we did great things together, so I figured we all obtained some kind of satisfaction inherent to the task itself and none of us ever yearned for that pat on the back, that “well done” or “thank you” that lubricates the engines of a small group of people working in synergy.
Inevitably, there lay my downfall and probably the most significant lesson in my life to date. People thrive on positive words, gratitude and warm feelings. Our little network of very busy, sleep deprived, yet highly motivated new mothers gave and gave and gave of themselves. But rarely did I think to acknowledge their contributions and achievements. Over time we all moved on, most of us feeling quite spent by the experience. Thanks to Facebook, most of us can keep in touch, but I feel a strange emptiness, that what was, is no more, and I do wish I had taken more time to thank everyone for their hard work and friendship. It really was a pivotal time in my life. Hopefully for others too. It is nice to see the community group still thriving since my own sisterhood stopped having babies and moved onto the next stage of life. I do miss them sometimes.
Now I’m more proactive about acknowledging the initiative of others, including my husband and children. I realise it doesn’t matter whether someone is expecting to be thanked or not. If they are, I can fulfill their expectations. If they’re not, I can pleasantly surprise them with those little words that cost me nothing, but seem so generous.
And in more general terms, I can use the energy I generate with those thank you’s to cultivate a gratitude mindset that touches every aspect of my life. For several years I kept a gratitude journal - something that seemed frivolous and self-indulgent when I started it (about the time I was involved with the above community group) but that ever so gradually improved my outlook on life, love and family and gave me access to a mental state, a flow, that was so healthy and life-affirming.
I want to write more on gratitude later. But for now I just want to put out there a big THANK YOU to those women (and their families) whom I probably never fully thanked for their contribution to the community group way back when. And THANK YOU to those of you who read this blog, even if you don’t offer comment. I hope there is something here for you.
February 14th, 2010 - Posted in personal growth, gratitude, happiness, ritual, beliefs, wisdom | | 4 Comments
Out of the mouths of babes #6
picture by jimmiehomeschoolmom
There is always some resistance but we have a Saturday morning clean-up ritual with the children.
This involves a bed making, floor-clearing, putting-away-fest that ends with an ‘inspection’ (all in fun - not exactly the white glove treatment) and a rating out of ten. Before the TV goes on, or any activities start for the day, we get it done and I think the routine is starting to pay big dividends, reducing the amount of clean up work I have to do in any given week.
This Saturday was no different and the kids got down to business without complaint. Except for Miss Four, who has spent the past few days in her new ballet uniform, twirling and jumping and demanding everyone’s rapt attention, or else!
Her resistance to helping out on a Saturday morning, or for that matter, shirking the dishwasher duties her three sibs attend to every day, has probably evolved from her being the youngest, and therefore, most indulged child in the family.
We say, “You’re four years old now, and you have learned from watching everyone else. Now it’s time to start helping out.” But we are met with silent resistance. And her stamina in the resistance department is only exceeded by her stamina in the screaming department - though we anticipate she’ll grow out of that one soon.
This morning, before the clean-up commenced, Miss Four put on a dance performance. “Dad,” she said, “I want to dance to some classical music.” We weren’t aware she knew what classical music was but at least we had something to appease her majesty. In the end, Miss Four put on a great show, dressed in a pink leotard and tutu. Ballet becomes her. And her big sister too. Heaven help us.
And so it was, just one hour later when Saturday clean-up was well underway and everyone was coaxing Miss Four to do her very best and help get things tidy, that our little primadonna declared,
“But Daddy, you know that I just don’t do work.”
February 6th, 2010 - Posted in gratitude, childhood, parenthood, play, ritual | | 2 Comments
