GONE BROWN

700 Year Old Houses gone BROWN!

In the north east of Iran at the foot of Mt. Sahand in Kandovan, the villagers live in cave homes carved out from volcanic rock. Some date back more than 700 years.

Just try to imagine how much work it was to build homes into the mountain like this without any power tools.

If this one were painted white, you might think it was a picture of a house along the Mediterranean!

Homes were sculpted into the mountain on all levels.

Don't tell me you wouldn't have loved exploring this place as a kid! How about as an adult?

It this way cool or what?

Inside a furnished/finished home.

These are great examples of human ingenuity AND ultra low building costs!

Have YOU got this disease?

It's not my fault...I've got a disease—a disease I've had to live with for over 10 years now. It's called boredom. I'll bet some of you have it, too.

It's a dis-ease with sameness. A dis-ease with our replicated, dull, assembly-line living.

Oh I know, the process of replication in the manufacturing, housing, textile and automotive industries has led to much more affordable goods—and services too. Thank you very much Henry Ford!


Mr. Ford's assembly line has crept into all areas of our lives bringing us not only cheaper cars, but cheaper food, cheaper housing, cheaper clothing...cheaper everything.


But as is true in all areas of life, every plus comes with a minus. In the process of making life more affordable for everyone, we've lost something.

That something is individuality, a uniqueness that sets us apart—each from the other.


Are you bored with your choices of cars? Cars that all have the same parts, share the same engines and all look alike—many being the exact same vehicle with the only difference being the name plate?



Are you tired of everyone always wearing the same styles, the same footwear, the need for everything to be the "in" thing? If no one else is wearing it, it must not look good.




Builders all use the same lumber—of the same dimensions and lengths. The sheet goods are all a perfect rectangle—each 4 feet wide and 8 feet long.



And so, our houses all look the same, too. I don't know about you...but it all dulls me out—puts me to sleep.


Sameness is rapidly expanding throughout the entire globe.

To deviate usually means you have to pay more...sometimes a lot more. But those of us who are afflicted with this dis-ease have a hard time living with the status quo. Something inside us needs to break out, be different, be unique.

The price we are willing to pay for being different varies from individual to individual, but for each of us the payoff is worth the price.

Do YOU have this dis-ease? If you're not sure, sometimes you can tell by the symptoms, though they may be lying dormant just below the surface, biding their time, waiting for the right moment to burst forth.

Here are just a few examples of the numerous symptoms this dis-ease can manifest. If you have one or more of the following, look out...other symptoms are sure to follow:



Do you "personalize" your vehicle so no one can say, I drive the same thing?





Or do you eat and grow your own organic vegetables?











photo courtesy: Flying Concrete






Maybe your house isn't exactly normal on the outside...





"Round house" photo courtesy: That round house









...or the inside.





photo up, courtesy: Flying Concrete
photo right, courtesy: Busyboo.com



Or, maybe you just dream of such things, a constant haunting of your soul, an itch you just can't allow yourself to scratch.

It isn't always easy to tell if you have this dis-ease. Sometimes the symptoms lie dormant till something triggers them, then...out they come.


If you think you might have this dis-ease, but you're not absolutely sure, you will want to order my book, The Cheap-Ass Curmudgeon's Guide™ to DIRT.


In it, you will find many more symptoms associated with this dis-ease:

- Creativity—you just can't stop thinking outside the "box"
- A fixation for obtainium (making use of found objects)
- Square-corner phobia
- A need to do things your own way
- A compulsion to always ask—why?
- An aversion to building codes
- An obsession to do things as cheaply as possible
- And a host of other symptoms too numerous to mention here.

But that's not all. Inside, you'll also find the formula to "cure" what ails you—step by step instructions on just how to scratch that itch!

So if you think you have any of the early signs of these symptoms—one of which will be an overwhelming desire to find out more—you'll find yourself developing a need to order this book—you'll just have to have it and you won't be satisfied till it's YOURS!

So, get your copy today, discover the cure...it's just a click away! CLICK

Reversing corruption and greed in America

One man, one vision...

Here is a book that I have really enjoyed, so I thought I would share a few passages with you.

Excerpt from the book The Last American Man by Elizabeth Gilbert

Eustace Conway created Turtle Island—the thousand-acre perfect cosmos of his own design—the ultimate teaching facility, a university-in-the-raw, a wild monastery. Because, after years of studying primitive societies and after countless experience of personal transformation within the wilderness, Eustace has formed a mighty dogma. He is convinced that the only way modern America can begin to reverse its inherent corruption and greed and malaise is by feeling the rapture that comes from face-to-face encounters with what he calls "the high art and godliness of nature."

It is his belief that we Americans, through our constant striving for convenience, are eradicating the raucous and edifying beauty of our true environment and replacing that beauty with a safe but completely faux "environment." What Eustace sees is a society steadily undoing itself, it might be argued, by its own over-resourcefulness. Clever, ambitious, and always in search of greater efficiency, we Americans have, in two short centuries, created a world of push-button, round-the-clock-comfort for ourselves. The basic needs of humanity—food, clothing, shelter, entertainment, transportation, and even sexual pleasure—no longer need to be personally labored for or ritualized or even understood. All these things are available to us now for mere cash. Or credit. Which means that nobody needs to know how to do anything anymore, except that one narrow skill that will earn enough money to pay for the convenience and services of modern living.

But in replacing every challenge with a shortcut we seem to have lost something, and Eustace isn't the only person feeling that loss. We are an increasingly depressed and anxious people—and not for nothing. Arguably, all these modern conveniences have been adopted to save us time. But time for what? Having created a system that tends to our every need without causing us undue exertion or labor, we can now fill these hours with...?

Well, for one thing, television—loads of it, hours of it, days and weeks and months of it in every American's lifetime. Also, work. Americans spend more and more hours at their jobs every year; in almost every household both parents (if there are two parents) must work full-time outside the home to pay for all these goods and services. Which means a lot of commuting. Which means a lot of stress. Less connection to family and community. Fast-food meals eaten in cars on the way to and from work. Poorer health all the time. (America is certainly the fattest and most inactive society in history, and we're packing on more pounds every year. We seem to have the same disregard for our bodies as we do for our other natural resources; if a vital organ breaks down, after all, we always believe we can just buy a new one. Somebody else will take care of it. Same way we believe that somebody else will plant another forest someday if we use this one up. That is, if we even notice that we're using it up.)

There's an arrogance to such an attitude, but—more than that—there's a profound alienation. We have fallen out of rhythm. It's this simple. If we don't cultivate our own food supply anymore, do we need to pay attention to the idea of say, seasons? Is there any difference between winter and summer if we can eat strawberries every day? If we can keep the temperature of our house set at a comfortable 70 degrees all year, do we need to notice that fall is coming? Do we have to prepare for that? Respect that? Much less contemplate what it means for our own mortality that things die in nature every autumn? And when spring does come round again, do we need to notice that rebirth? Do we need to take a moment and maybe thank anybody for that? Celebrate it? If we never leave our house except to drive to work, do we need to be even remotely aware of this powerful, humbling, extraordinary, and eternal life force that surges and ebbs around us all the time?

Apparently not. Because we seem to have stopped paying attention. Or this is what Eustace Conway perceives when he looks around America. He sees a people who have fallen out of step with the natural cycles that have defined humanity's existence and culture for millennia. Having lost that vital connection with nature, the nation is in danger of losing its humanity. We are not alien visitors to the planet, after all, but natural residents and relatives of every living entity here. This earth is where we came from and where we'll all end up when we die, and, during the interim, it is our home. And there's no way we can ever hope to understand ourselves if we don't at least marginally understand our home. That is the understanding we need to put our lives in some bigger metaphysical context.

Instead, Eustace sees a chilling sight—citizenry so removed from the rhythms of nature that we march through our lives as mere sleep-walkers, blinded, deafened, and senseless. Robotically existing in sterilized surroundings that numb the mind, weaken the body, and atrophy the soul. But Eustace believes we can get our humanity back. When we contemplate the venerable age of a mountain, we get it. When we observe the superb order of water and sunlight, we get it. When we experience firsthand the brutal poetry of the food chain, we get it. When we are mindful of every nuance of our natural world, we finally get the picture: that we are each given only one dazzling moment of life here on Earth, and we must stand before that reality both humbled and elevated, subject to every law of our universe and grateful for our brief but intrinsic participation within it.

Granted, this is not a radical concept. Every environmentalist in the world operates on a philosophy based on these same hypotheses. But what sets Eustace Conway apart from every other environmentalist is the peculiar confidence he's had since earliest childhood that it is his personal destiny to snap his countrymen out of their sleepwalk. He has always believed that he alone has this power and this responsibility, that he was to be the vessel of change. One man, one vision.

We may not all agree with this one man's view of the way things are or how they should be, but after reading this book, you will have to admire the man's clarity of purpose. His convictions are unwavering. His vision is focused and sharp. He has himself a mission, a goal. He has taken the three-point stance, has lowered his horns and is plunging forward with everything he's got, holding nothing back—Lord help anyone or anything who gets in his way.

What wouldn't we all give to have so clear a picture of who we are and why we are here, on this planet?

CAC

Take the Eco-Color Test - Just how "green" ARE you?

Just what is "GREEN?"

Lately, I've had a lot of trouble communicating with others about "going green." There is a wide range of what people think that really means. Is it owning a Toyota Prius...or walking to work? Is it a dual-flush toilet...or an outhouse?

When one person says they are "going green" they may mean something entirely different from what the listener thinks.

So I have taken it upon myself to start promoting "BROWN"—to give brown a slice of the green pie.

Here are my definitions:


RED—not green at all.


GREEN—new, expensive, cool stuff. Live the same life as red without wasting quite so much.


BROWN—A whole different way of living and being.


So take the Curmudgeon's "COLOR TEST" to see where you fall—are you nearest to RED, GREEN, or BROWN? Be honest now...just how eco-conscious are you? To what degree do you really care about the environment?


Your Stove/Oven:

Is still my old, non Energy Star rated clunker, but I love it just the same.

Is Energy Star rated.

Is a solar oven. Or an earth oven and wood stove—powered by deadfall wood.






More on earth ovens HERE.


Your Dish Washer:

Is old, not Energy Star rated, and makes noises it didn't use to make.

Is Energy Star rated.

Dishwasher? That's me!


Your Refrigerator:

Is NOT Energy Star rated and the door is ready to fall off.

Is Energy Star rated.

What refrigerator? You use an ice box, evaporation cooler box, and/or a root cellar.

Click HERE and HERE for more on living without a refrigerator.


Your Water Heater:


Is old, not Energy Star rated and is leaking a little out the bottom—but you figure it will go another year or so.


Is Energy Star rated. Or even greener—has solar assist.

Is solar-only, with an insulated storage tank. Or browner yet—you set your plastic jugs out in the sun to heat your water or use the wood stove/rocket stove that is already heating your house.

Click HERE for more on rocket stoves.


Your Washer/Dryer:

Is NOT Energy Star rated.

Is Energy Star rated.

I don't even have hot water hooked up to my washer, and I dry all my clothes outside on a clothesline. (Believe it or not, clothes will dry outdoors even in sub-zero temperatures.)


Your Shower:

You're still using that leaky old shower head.


You've installed a new water-saver shower head (1.5 gallons used per minute).





You use a solar shower (1.5 gallons used per shower) or a "beer bottle" shower.









More info Here


Your Toilet:

You use an old 3-5 gallon flusher, but boy does it flush great!




You use a new 1.5 liter flusher; or even greener—a dual flusher.













You use a manufactured power composting toilet; or even browner—a handmade non-powered composting outhouse.

Click HERE for more info on a composting outhouse and HERE for info on the book.


Your Sewer Drains...

...into your city's sewer system.

...into your septic system (the leach field waters some plants). Or greener yet—your black water goes to your septic system and your gray water goes to a planter bed.

...What sewer waste? (You use a composting toilet and all gray water is reused or waters your plants.)


Your Water Supply:

All comes from your municipal water system.

Is power pumped from a well. And greener yet—you also water your plants from a rain water catchment system. ($$$)


You hand pump your water from a well and water your plants from that wooden barrel at the end of the downspout.


Your Power:



All your power comes from the electric plant.





Some of your power comes from that $30,000 solar voltaic system you installed last year. Or greener yet—ALL of your power comes from that $70,000 system you just installed.


Your only power needs are your 12-volt lights which run on one 40-watt solar panel and a car battery. Or browner yet—you go to bed early and read by candlelight.


Your Swimming Pool:

You just love relaxing by your nice big heated pool.

You have a small unheated pool. Or greener yet—your pool is now a koi pond.

You turned your pool into a planter. Or browner yet—what pool?


Your Heating:

You're still heating your entire house with its original furnace.

You only heat the parts of your house that you are using with zone heating. Or greener yet—you get by mostly on a combination of your home's passive solar design and radiant space heaters which only heat your body, right where you are.


Your house has large amounts of thermal mass and is passive solar in design. When needed, you heat it with a rocket stove or box stove. And browner yet—you wear more clothes and use more blankets.

Click HERE for more on rocket stoves.


Your Cooling:

Central Air...what a godsend. You use it all summer long.

Central Air is nice but you get by some of the time with evaporative cooling. Or greener yet—you have no air conditioner. You only use an evaporative cooler and a few fans.

You get by on thermal mass, passive solar design, and cross ventilation. You open your windows at night.


Your Garbage:


ALL goes in the same can and from there...into that big truck with the huge back-side. It all goes to the same place anyway.


Is carefully separated into separate recycling and garbage cans, then set out for the garbage man. And greener yet—all the table scraps are composted.

ONLY recyclable waste leaves your home. You find a use for EVERYTHING else and you compost your scraps.


Your Transportation:



You drive a normal car/truck. Or redder yet—you drive a big SUV.




You drive a hybrid. Or greener yet—an all-electric vehicle.




You don't have a vehicle. You ride a scooter or take public transportation. Or browner yet—you ride a bike. Browner still—you walk.



By now you should have a pretty good idea where you fall. Are you RED, GREEN, or BROWN?

Most of us will fall somewhere in between colors.

Ask yourself: What color am I now? What color do I want to be?—Are they the same color?

Some would call BROWN "hardcore"—and not living in the real world.

Others would call GREEN "wimpy"—and not living in the real world.

Still others would call both BROWN & GREEN "tree-huggers"—and not living in the real world.

And others would call RED $#@&!—and not living in the real world.

Time will tell who was more correct.

In the meantime, maybe we can get the term "GOING BROWN" started. At least that way, the greenies and the brownies won't get so confused when talking to each other about environmental issues and saving the earth.

There is no symbol or organization for BROWN at this time. There's no money in it. But maybe we can come up with our own someday. I, for one, would love to live in a LEED certified BROWN house!

Addendum: After all that, there still are questions out there about what I mean by the term BROWN, so here are a few examples of what it is and what it isn't:

BROWN—means small, inexpensive, hand-built, organic, natural, earthen, and one-of-a-kind. Artistic, sculpted, original, quaint.

BROWN—means incorporating obtainium (found objects) into all aspects of living and building. It's public transportation, riding a bike and using your library.

BROWN—is NOT about LEED certification, bamboo flooring, dual-flush toilets, low-flow shower heads, no VOC paints, expensive solar voltaic systems and fancy rain water catchment systems.

It's an old wooden barrel under a downspout and a hand-built composting toilet. It's a thatch, rusty tin, or sod roof. It's walls made of mud, paper, straw, stone, tires, bottles, cans, and/or anything else you can get for free. It's rocket stoves, box stoves, passive solar, sun showers and gray water.

It's...well, you get the picture.


Check out the Curmudgeon's new BROWN Tribe: The Brown Building Network. Join the tribe and post your brown pics, topics, ideas, listings, and more!

Bare Feet & Cell Phones

Not long ago, I was listening to a radio interview while driving home. The woman being interviewed had just returned to the United States after spending a few weeks vacationing with her husband in Central America.



I listened while she told of the fabulous luxury hotels, white sand beaches and fine restaurants she and her husband had so recently enjoyed.




They had a gloriously wonderful time but were struck by the terrible poverty they had witnessed just outside the confines of their luxurious paradise. She and her husband had seen large families living in small block houses, clothes hanging outside on clotheslines, chickens loose in the yards and kids running around barefoot. My god, she said, these people could not even afford to put shoes on their children.

The interview centered around the subject of what we as individuals, and as a nation, could do to help these "developing" countries. The commentator wrapped up the program by giving out the name of a few "relief" organizations that their listeners could contribute to in order to ease the conscience.

I had to smile.

I had been there just 3 years before and had seen the same things, but I saw them through different eyes.

My trip to Central America had been about something else. I wasn't interested in staying ocean-side in those tourist traps. I didn't want to spend my time sunbathing, snorkeling, drinking wine and eating fine foods—though all those things were there to be had. Why would I want to come all that way to do the same things I could do in my own country—in Miami or San Diego? I had come for a different purpose. I wanted to see real life there—the life of the people.

Did I witness poverty? That depends on your point of view...

Sure, I saw the small block houses tucked away in the forest.

I saw clothes hung outside to dry on the line.


I saw the chickens running loose in their yards.


I saw the burros they used to bring their goods to market.


I saw the country schools in the middle of nowhere...


...and children as they walked home, dressed in their school uniforms.


And yes, I saw families all living together.

But, was all this so bad?

Did anyone ask THEM?

I spent my days walking mile after mile of gravel roads and back-country trails. This is what I saw:

I saw multiple generations all living on the same, family-owned land—but generally they did not live in just one house but in two, three, or even four separate homes.


I saw happy, contented families spending their days together—the men tending the orchards, the women tending home and family.






Look at this beautiful older woman as she weaves straps for a new basket her husband just made with his own hands.






I saw unparalleled beauty all around.


The land was full of orchids...




...gorgeous vegetation...








...bananas and fruits of all kinds.









There were flowers of every color imaginable.










I saw children flying by me, running down gravel roads laughing and chasing one another, completely oblivious to any other way of life—and yes—they were barefoot.

I stumbled upon hidden treasures like these—places to frolic and play that I would have killed for as a kid...

Beautiful swimming holes...


Fabulous waterfalls with fresh, clear, cool, mountain water cascading down into sand-bottom pools.

Could it get any better than this? You can't get this at a luxury hotel!










And if that wasn't enough, I found a natural hot springs and mud bath available for just 25 cents (free if you live there).









Local kids, soaking in the natural hot springs. Thank God most of the tourists haven't found this sanctuary yet.


And yes, there's more...talk about ingenious! One day, I came upon this fabulous walking bridge off the side of the road. The local folks had built a suspension bridge over the river to get to guess what...another incredible engineering feat yet to come...

Here are a few shots of how the bridge is made for all you engineers to marvel at. Notice the cement columns that support cables that go over the top and anchor into huge, heavy concrete dead weights.


The steps leading up to the bridge.


The underside.


Here is how they lashed the planks together on both sides and down the center.


The bridge is a couple hundred feet long and really fun to walk across! It will support a full load of people all going to where?


To a swimming pool of course!


And look at the simplicity of how this swimming pool is fashioned. They simply dug out the area they wanted for the pool and lined it with rocks and cement (both sides and bottom) then dammed up the stream. To do this, they left an 4 foot wide opening at the lower end of the pool and stacked up boards to hold back the stream as it filled. You can see from the picture that it doesn't have to be perfectly sealed. The water from the stream just seeps through the boards and goes over the top as needed.

What's brilliant about this design is its simplicity. It fills naturally without pumps, and when it's time to clean out excess sediment and leaf residue from the bottom of the pool, they just take out the boards and let it flush itself out! It is truly brilliant. And the best part is that hardly anyone from the outside world knows where this place is! (Sorry, I'm not going to tell where it is, either.)

Now, let's review the conclusion everyone seems to come to when they view pictures of, or pass by, rural areas of Central America (or other "undeveloped" countries, for that matter)...

I will be the first to say that it is not all wine and roses out there. As in any country, there are people there who are desperately poor, but just because we happen to see some kids running barefoot down a trail, families living without air conditioning in a house less than 2000 square feet, or mom, grandma, and baby all sitting on a porch together, doesn't mean that they are living a miserable life.

In many ways, they have it much better than we do. They live life. We, on the other hand, live in a world of sterile, square boxes. We live in a box, work in a box and drive a box. In the evenings we sit and stare at a box till we fall asleep—then wake up and do it all over again.



So what do we do? We do our damnedest to try to convince them to want to be like us. We want them to become a "developed" country. Why? So we can sell them all our crap. And in doing so, we ruin them.




It's a travesty. We SHOULD have a guilty conscience, not because we have it so much better than they, but because we sugar-coat our lifestyle and shove it down their throats with all our fancy advertising. We stick it in front of them EVERWHERE, even in the remotest regions of the land.


I don't know about you, but I find it a shame when visiting these areas and see a bus full of school kids all texting away on their cell phones or have to do a double-take because there are TV antennas sticking out of those straw huts...huh?

Or when I visit the Kuna Indian villages in the Caribbean Islands—after seeing them selling their molas on the mainland dressed in their traditional, colorful clothing—only to find half of them running around in Yankee baseball caps, dorky t-shirts, shorts and Walmart thongs. It's like running into the Dali Lama wearing pink tights and a green tank top...it just doesn't seem right.


But I know, most of you will disagree with me. Most will have, what is in my opinion, the narrow view that we here in America have it so much better than everyone else in the world. And maybe you're right.


So go ahead, let's turn them all into us. Let's give them all cell phones, televisions, and computers. Let's build them some crappy prefab boxes and completely eradicate their cultures...

...and for God's sake, let's get those kids some shoes.

Image source: HERE