I was walking my dog in the alley this morning. That’s her preferred milieu, which I respect and support. She weaves and ambles mindlessly, compelled by scent after sniff after smell (those are distinct from each other). The sniffs are garbage- and recycling-powered, but ultimately by the wildness of human life. There’s a person who sleeps in the alley, in a nook next to a tall fence and they set up large cardboard walls each night. During the day, they pack them into a neat stack leaned against the fence.
The sanitation workers never remove them, I’ve noted and appreciate. I think they know they’re not refuse, they’re structure.
Alley ways in the neighborhood where I live are shadow channels slithering north to south, skulking parallel to even wider, name-brand streets like Flower Ave. or Euclid Street. Indeed, they’re ‘courts’ - like Flower Court - or apprentice streets. Take your alley to work day.
Anyway.
I was walking my dog in the alley this morning. She likes to do laps so we take note of something once, then we revisit. Hulking garbage and recycling bins are lined up like mega-fauna gargoyles. They receive trash from the apartments they guard but also generously from anyone who comes through. And sometimes they overflow. Overflowing trash is a special experience a city can offer.
Today I saw some pregnancy tests, scattered across on the concrete, ejected out of one of the garbage-goyles, along with some other garbage-y items. On our second time through, I kicked one over out of curiosity because, well, that’s something I would do. A big plus sign (positive); I spied a second: “pregnant.”
I felt immediately inspired to write this; it evoked so many thoughts and emotions. I wonder about the emotion (if any) attached to those tests. There are those moments that splice our lives into befores and afters. Perhaps this was one, and perhaps not.
I wonder what it means, if anything. I thought pining-ly about abortion access. How fucked our healthcare system is. The turbulent long slog of fertility. Endless misogyny. How we’re suffocating our planet with waste. A pregnancy test is single-use plastic. Thought about parenting and re-parenting. And death, of course, when parenting finally ends.
What if you treated everything you threw out like something someone would find? Equal parts horrifying and exciting? How would you feel and what would you do? And of course…they will find it. If not sooner, then later. If not a tall, curious gal with an ambling dog in an alley, then someone’s ancestor inheriting the everests of trash we drop-kick without a blink.
Maybe that “positive” test will become someone who’ll see my trash or yours. What is trash anyway?
Michael Reynolds, sometimes called the “garbage warrior,” is a proponent of radically sustainable building and living. He founded the concept of the Earthship, a passive solar house that is built in concert with the earth and made largely of sturdy refuse like old car tires, bottles, and cans. They stay wonderfully temperate year-round. Earthships started in Taos, NM, but are now being built all over the world. So cool. Keep an eye out. Garbage is better-built than lots of fancy building materials, and free, he rightly points out.
It’s refuse and structure, not one of the other. The person in the alley knows.
My friend Reeves + I are offering a free yoga class on Wednesday 9/7 at 4pm PT / 7pm ET and you’re invited. It will be luscious + grounding + inspired by our friendship + we’d love to have you. Register here.