think differently

I Am a Little Bit of Many Thing

/ Greta Matos / 1 Comment

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The air is crisp this morning as I am shuffled forth into the sunlight. I yawn my way open, stretching widely and feeling myself settle in the morning light. The ocean sits quietly on the horizon, dropping beneath the edge of the cliff where I am perched. Just to my left, the sun breaks forth, a bright orange ball bursting from the coastline, as though it is suddenly released from the embrace of the mountains.

To my right, high in the sky, the moon sits peacefully, still residing over the ocean and the land, remaining bright in the moody dawn light, still untouched by the sun’s rays. Her evening watch is nearly done and she will soon retire; but for now, she remains with her waves and her breeze, with her meadows and her trees.

I did not know where this particular journey would take me. Yesterday I was picked up, carried off through the traffic of the city, cruising north beneath the towers of the Golden Gate Bridge. Quiet anticipation traveled with me as I wondered about the destination, about the sights I might see, about the tales I might tell. Now I sit and recount those tales, beneath the light of a setting moon and a rising sun. Lovely little moments lived are captured for future moments of reflection. My tale is also captured in these pages, but just one chapter of it- there is really so much more to tell.

I was born in several different countries spread across this world. Before I was what I am today, I was a little bit of many things. My pages are compiled from trees gathered from a forest in northern Oregon. My cover is a strong leather made from the hide of a calf born in the countryside of China. My binding is linen thread made from flax fibers grown in India. And these days my pages are tattooed with ink that is made up of carbon black, drawn from the deepest depths of this planet, either coal or oil, depending upon which of various pens were used. I now exist as many different parts of this Earth, all combined as one.

As a tree I stood tall, breathing deeply every day and night. When it rained, I drank the raindrops through my leaves and my roots. Animals and bugs ran along my thick bark, birds sang from my long arms, I danced with the wind and I stretched for the sun. Eventually, I was cut down, lifted with chains into a very long truck and hauled to a factory for processing. The air in this factory was different, and I no longer used my leaves to breathe. My bark was removed and I was cut into chips. These chips of me were then mixed with chips of others, and then with water and cooked into a paste. Afterwards bleach was poured on me along with chemicals- caustic soda, sodium sulfide and melamine- to give me the desired texture and a different kind of strength than the one I had that allowed me to stand so tall as a tree. After this process I was flattened, and all of the liquid was squeezed out of me. I spent hours drying until finally I was considered finished and was cut into individual pages.

After my brief life in this factory, I was transported to another where my pages were stacked upon one another and I was sewn into my cover, the leather embracing my outer pages. I came to learn my cover had traveled an even greater distance than my pages, first being born as a calf in the fields of mainland China. I had a brown coat and a rattly voice. I spent most of my time grazing and eating corn, I had strong hooves and enjoyed sunbathing on hot sunny days. I think other cows may have thought this odd about me, as they lounged about in the shade, chewing their cud with suspicion.

Eventually I was loaded up with many other calves, and taken to a facility where my life as a calf was ended, and my life as a cover began. The air in this factory was also different, and I no longer used my lungs to breathe. Once the skin was removed, I was coated with salt and sent to a leather tannery, where I was covered with chemicals to remove the grease and hair. After my chemical treatment, I was handled by many workers as they moved me back and forth between various processes. They breathed in the chemicals, and as it soaked into my skin it also soaked into theirs. Finally I was inspected for quality and deemed appropriate to live the life as a journal cover. I was stacked with many other hides, placed in a box and began my very long journey by truck and shipping container destined for the USA, where I would meet my pages and begin this next form of existence as a little bit of many things.

From the factory line where I was bound, I was stacked with others, wrapped in a thin plastic film and placed in a box. This box was lifted onto yet another truck which drove me to this next new home. The next chapter of my life would be lived in a side alley shop in San Francisco. Upon arrival, my plastic was removed and I took my place quietly sitting on a wooden shelf, stacked tightly between others who resembled me. I had a lot of time to reflect on the places I had been, on the pieces of this Earth that had been combined to bring me into this new existence. Little did I know my travels had just begun.

Eventually, my companion lifted me from the wooden shelf, holding me lightly, flipping through my empty, crisp pages. After so many seconds and minutes and hours and days I finally felt the warmth of the sunshine again as we stepped outside of the shop together. I smiled with delight, the sunbathing joys of my youth momentarily relived. As we sat together at the cafe, my pages breathed deep the warm breeze, flapping softly as my branches once had.

As destiny would have it, I would travel all around the world with my companion- we climbed mountains in the Trinity Alps, we paddled rivers and traversed glaciers in Alaska, we visited strawberry harvesters in the fields of Morocco and Mexico, we even spent time walking the floors of factories in China, factories similar to those where parts of me had been created. I’ve flown across the oceans more times than I can count. I’ve opened my pages to capture and share memories on ferries, subways, monorails, cars and airplanes. I hold all of these details within the warm embrace of my soft outer cover, they have become another part of me. 

This cover has been worn soft from such constant travel, and a few of my pages have begun to pull loose. Heavy ink is now scrawled across all of my pages, and I spend most of my time on that windowsill, sitting in the sun. My life as a traveling companion has evolved into the role of an old friend to reminisce with, to share laughter and learning. 

I am no longer the tree, or the cow, or the coal or flax that I once was. I am, however, still here. I am, after all, a little bit of many things. I cannot determine how my life continues. I cannot determine how my shape and form may change if I am discarded, retired to a landfill somewhere no one will again open my binding and spread my pages. Perhaps I will be recycled, my pages pulled from my cover, and again melted to mix with others in chemicals and water, these stories washed from my folds, bleach replacing the ink, a brief chapter of my life washed away. Who knows, I cannot tell the future. I can only embrace this moment to bask in the sunshine, and each time my cover is parted, my pages breathe deep the wild air, and I will continue to hold tight the stories of this life.

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Ever since I first stepped foot on a factory floor and witnessed the thousands of workers hand painting the simple packaging of a plastic toy we were manufacturing, I realized what an incredibly complex system we had created to make the things that we consume. I was taken aback by the realization that every single thing has encountered a remarkable journey to come into existence- from the fields, mines or forests where the raw materials were drawn, to the factory floors in countries all around the world. All for the sole purpose of their arrival to us, the become our possessions. Some of them are tools, some are used to bring pleasure, some we hold onto for years, others only for moments. Regardless of the purpose they ultimately serve, our things share this world with us, and their existence, our demand for their existence, has a direct impact on the state of our planet.

Personally, I’ve gone through all the phases of emotions when it comes to my “stuff”- the guilt of knowing the negative impact the production of that thing likely had on this Earth; the helplessness in my own ability to change the bigger picture, and have any measurable impact beyond my own buying decisions; the ultimate justification for buying things I want but might not need. I don’t believe that feelings of guilt and helplessness inspire change in behavior or a better understanding of practical solutions. I believe curiosity does. I believe that seeking knowledge about the lives of the things we own can inspire a whole knew vision of the world, our place in it and how we choose to interact with it.

I’ve written other pieces about conscious consumerism, about how my own perspective on buying things changed as I learned more and more about the actual cost to our planet and the communities making them. Now I am exploring another perspective, one I hope you might find interesting, a perspective that might ignite a curiosity within you as well. This story is a glimpse into the life of one of my things. It is bottled up in about 1500 words, hardly enough to do the life of this beloved journal justice, but it is meant to only be a glimpse. Just going through the act of writing this has me curious about many of my other things, and the secret lives they’ve lived before coming into my possession.

What kind of stories do the things you hold dearest to your heart carry with them? What kind of a life have you given them? What do you know about where they originally came from, what parts of this Earth were combined to create that one special thing? Who had a hand in bringing your thing into existence? Where will it go once you are finished with it?

Are you curious?

If You Don’t Love It, Don’t Buy It: The Shift to Consuming Consciously

/ Greta Matos / 2 Comments
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There is great opportunity when we realize the impact of our individual actions, and collectively choose to engage.

The audit report sat heavily on my desk, the weight of it bearing down on my heart.  The situation sounded like a recipe for disaster…the perfect storm for the next tragedy on the front page of the morning news.  Thoughts of the recent fires at Ali Enterprises filled my mind, the lives lost due to working conditions similar to those documented within the report I had just read.  Locked exits; barred windows; children as young as 12; no fire extinguishers or fire drills conducted; unsafe electrical wiring; the list went on and on.  I felt powerless, this factory was not my factory, it was not manufacturing any products that I was directly ordering.  I did not own the relationship with this factory management, nor did I have any opportunity to directly influence them.  My client, who was manufacturing product in this factory, would immediately halt production and move it elsewhere as a result of this audit report, the risk of a future factory fire or child labor scandal being too great to manage, the need to ensure their products were not being manufactured in this type of facility, the foundation of their company code of conduct blatantly disregarded.

I was taken back to my very first time stepping onto a factory floor in China.  I was 22, juggling the shock of all the sites, sounds and smells I had been experiencing since entering the manufacturing-driven factory cities where we would be sourcing our products.  As I walked down the production lines, young workers looked up at me, staring as they continued their monotonous task, watching me walk along the line inspecting their work.  I can only imagine the thoughts that ran through their minds, the looks on their faces entirely unreadable.  Later I sat in the sample room, watching my boss negotiate the cost of our tooling and per piece product price, down to the half cent.  We had three priorities in that room- timeline/production turnaround, material and product quality, and price.  Those were the priorities during that initial negotiation, that was all that would determine if we placed production in that facility.  The faces of those workers were not yet a part of the conversation.

My experience during that first visit is not necessarily the status quo of how every brand and retailer chooses to source product globally, however, it is the reality of the priority for most companies when they begin building relationships with factories.  The company I was working for was not a “bad” company with ill intentions, actually it was full of well-intentioned caring individuals who were raising families and simply doing business as usual. I have spent years working with companies to manage the challenges that are uncovered by audits, the poor working conditions or environmental practices, the lack of systems or understanding of requirements.  More than anything, this work has shown how critical that very first meeting with factory management is, that very fundamental establishment of priorities, establishing what matters most.  Had my client taken into account the zero tolerance issues that were a part of the audit in the very beginning of that factory relationship, production would never have begun. But, does that mean these people working there would have been safer as a result? No.

Getting back to this moment, sitting in my office in the city, the evening turning dark, contemplating what to do with this Pakistan factory report.  My struggle was not that my client had begun production in this factory in the first place; my struggle was that there would be no one left caring once my client left.  My client’s own ability to influence change would be limited even if they did choose to engage with this factory, as their production orders only made up 5% of the factory’s output, and would be limited to one production run anyway.  This report would be sent, production of this product would be stopped but the production of the other factory customers would continue; there would be no one asking any more questions, evaluating conditions and pushing the management to create a work environment that was safe and positive. I left the office in tears, frustrated with my lack of ability to keep those people safe, my lack of ability to directly motivate positive change.

From all of these years spent working in this industry, I have a pretty unique view into the complex and dynamic environments  in which most of the products we buy are made all around the world. I have inevitably adapted a cautiousness to consumerism, bearing this weight of my conscience in knowing the conditions in which a product may have been harvested or manufactured, depending on the country of production as well as the monitoring practices and messaging of the company.  So much exposure to so many problems, challenges, and complex social and environmental conditions can be discouraging, but it can also be a huge motivator for influencing change.  Knowledge of this reality presents a profound opportunity to rethink the broken model, to come at these challenges from a different angle, to motivate and inspire change that will enable consumers as well as business executives to be conscious of the impact of their buying decisions, but will also engage them as citizens, helping us all to realize that we are all connected to the products we choose to buy and the places we choose to go.

At this moment I write this blog from the top of a cliff overlooking the Pacific coast along a stretch of sand lining the middle of Chile.  The products that I carry with me as I travel and explore must serve multiple purposes in order to make the cut.  They must be durable, resilient, fixable and reusable.  Out of bare necessity I need these products to function in this way, if they don’t serve a purpose daily, I don’t really need them.  I adapted this perspective while thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail- where every single thing you carry literally weighs you down, and when you feel the physical weight of all the items you own, your priorities shift dramatically.  Efficiency and purpose are core.  The companies manufacturing the products you use must stand by them and be prepared to support in the repair in order for the product to last through your journey.  If you extend your vision of “this journey” to be your time spent on this Earth, now you have a standard to hold them accountable to.  Even now as I now backpack through the Andes of Chile I carry on my back my Gregory backpack that I bought six years ago and have carried literally thousands of miles, across multiple mountain ranges all around the world.  I intend to pass it on to my children.

We all want to buy things without the weight of negative realities that challenge our own ethical boundaries bearing down on us.  We all want to have access to products that can reassure us that this product did not make the lives of those who made it worse, it did not contribute to further damaging our Earth.  So, what can be done?  Most simply put, if you don’t love it, don’t buy it.

Consider the life of everything you purchase- question how, where and why it was made.  Consider how where and why you will use it- how often and for how long.

Consider where it will go when you are finished with it- will it go in a landfill?  Can it be recycled?  Better yet, can it be upcycled?  Could it be composted?  Has the company who created that product also created a path for it to follow once you are done using it?

How does the company who sells this product talk about its supply chain?  Do they have a Code of Conduct, and more importantly how do they explain it to their suppliers?  Don’t demand perfection, demand transparency.  Begin asking questions, challenge companies to provide answers, not public relations soundbites or flashy sustainability reports. Become conscious of your actions and acquisitions and believe me, everything will change.

I try to put forth every effort to consider whether or not I will really love a product once I have bought it- from that essential waterproof jacket to the kitchen chopping knife.  Believe it or not, I am by no means a minimalist, I understand and appreciate the comforts of “things” that I like to indulge in, and I believe that there are many products that bring people joy and do generally improve our lives. However, I hope to inspire others to join me in this path of conscious consumerism- to evaluate our purchases with a greater sense of purpose, and to truly consider the impact that every dollar spent on a product has on the past and future of humanity.  To demand more of the companies we buy from, but to remain conscious of the fact that they are wrestling with incredibly difficult and complex realities of a global supply chain and therefore perfection is not what must be demanded, progress and transparency is.  Because it is all connected, I have witnessed it intimately and whether we like it or not we all have a hand in the futures that our children will live, as well as the present day of others halfway around the world.

So with that I ask…what is the last thing you bought that you stopped and thought, “Man I am going to love having this”?  How much do you know about the manufacturing practices of the companies you buy from, have you ever wondered about their ethical philosophy?  Just to begin, check out this great little rundown created by the Story of Stuff Project to encourage conscious consumerism.  I encourage you to begin asking, to start the conversation and continue it, because we can make a difference one at a time, we can influence change directly in a positive way, we simply need to choose to do so. There is vast opportunity to join this revolution, to change the way that we interact with our environment and with one another, to reevaluate and align our priorities with what truly matters most to us.  I don’t know about you, but I am diving in headfirst.