give your teeth that competitive edge

I woke up this sweet July morning, turned on my computer, got dressed, and squandered my few spare minutes reading the news story about drug tests and scandal on the Tour de France. Seems like in the wake of Lance Armstrong being such a gifted athlete and dominating force in the sport, things have gotten a little rough. Two riders were disqualified for failing blood doping tests, and the leader going into stage 17 was removed by his own team for missing two drug tests in the months leading up to the race. There was a lot of sound and fury in the article, with one Frenchman even being quoted as saying it's time to stop holding the race which has been going on for more than a century. The race continues on, but the tone of the article implied that everyone was shaken. I hustled down the stairs, stepped onto my bike, and pedaled out to our community garden to harvest zucchini with my friend Neil.

My first thought on reading this story was: Chinese toothpaste. The connection lies in competing to get ahead in a world with more competitors and a decreased feeling that we're all playing by any agreed upon rules. Remember the scandal with the Chinese toothpaste (not to mention bad pet food and other products) in the past few months? Some small production facilities had been cranking out toothpaste sweetened with an antifreeze additive, because it was cheaper and considered by some to be "not harmful in small quantities." They shipped it to America, Canada, and probably elsewhere with labels saying it was manufactured in South Africa. People bought it (mostly in discount stores, I believe), used it, got sick, and the investigations began. The ending to that small chapter in human history was the execution of the head of the Chinese Food and Drug Administration.

Much like the Tour scandal, there was much hubbub about tainted products coming from China. How could this happen? Where are the regulatory folks checking on the production of these goods? How could someone knowingly send out products with toxins in them for consumption by other people and their pets?

My take on it is this: I doubt there was anyone in China or elsewhere who was looking to poison people. I doubt anyone in the Tour de France was looking to shame the professional athletic community in the public's view. I clearly see two cases of people trying to get ahead by attempting to take advantage of loopholes in the system. If no one is looking, and I can gain a competitive edge in my profession by bending or breaking some arbitrary rules, why not take a risk? The reward is big - fame, fortune, a few more dollars to take home at the end of every day. Some might say that we have rules to make things more fair and even, but when you look at the news, the world is full of the powerful acting on their own agendas without regard for fairness. We make exploitative trade deals, lay land mines in third party countries, dump cheap commodities in foreign markets, cook the books at our respective Fortune 500 company, etc.

I think it's important to once again acknowledge that there are a lot of us on this green and blue sphere streaked with white that orbits the sun. We're still increasing our numbers all the time, with more of us struggling to get the finite goods, both real and imagined. There are more people waiting to be on professional sports teams, and more people pounding it up the mountain to get that yellow jersey, so you've got to be better to keep your spot. There are other facilities all over the world who will gladly supply cheap toothpaste and dog food if you can't do it at the right price. In this kind of environment, if we don't cut corners to get ahead, it's foolish to think that no one else will. Feeling shocked each time a scandal is discovered is an empty gesture that leaves us in the same place again and again. If we want to change our situation, we need to start our 12 step program as a global village and admit that we have a problem.

Where do we go from here? I have no idea, but I find that can never go too wrong returning to a smaller-scale life. How can I work to feel like I'm competing less with strangers 10,000 miles away? When I'm up in the garden, knee-deep (literally!) in bush beans, I can't imagine selling antifreeze-laced toothpaste to another human being. Maybe it's just the beta carotene going to my head, but as I much on a carrot I've just pulled up and gaze out over brilliant yellow mustard fields, I really don't want the U.S. to dump excess dairy products on other countries (like Jamaica, India, and others) and drive their farmers out of a livelihood. When I'm playing ultimate frisbee with friends, and I'm chasing down the disk like a manic golden retriever, the farthest thing from my mind is taking steroids just to get a slight edge on the others. Frankly, I'd much rather lose and go home happy...

Wherever you are, take one step local this week - meet someone at the coffee shop, buy from the farmer's market and meet the grower, talk with a person who looks lonely, do whatever inspires you to make your world a little...smaller.

ps - gotta get it out there - I just discovered that the dental floss that I love, Crest Glide, that super smooth awesome-feeling stuff, is Teflon coated. So, if you use it, I recommend reconsidering. Dupont says Teflon is safe, but the people living downstream from the factory in Ohio beg to differ. Cancer! I recommend a nice unwaxed, unflavored one. May your gums be pink and firm.

Chris and Jeff ponder floss and how to go local

Walking Shoes of Spanish Leather

I put one ear down to the tracks and one up to the sky of faint silver clouds rolling across the powder blue twilight. I can hear it stretching away from me in both directions forever, the slightly rounded I-beam that carries oranges, timber, and eager lovers with a gentle sway across the countryside. I hear the thunderous logs coming east from clear-cuts on the west coast, sometimes so big you could see them from the space shuttle in orbit. I can hear hopeful fishermen turned migrants headed back west, exchanging empty seas for full tar sands in a surreal swap meet. It's all too much, so I crunch back a few steps on the gravel path and lean against the sturdy, taken for granted brick wall in the moist summer evening. It's cool and earthen and red, I can feel all that through my imported disposable t-shirt. I close my eyes and smile from my pre-frontal cortex on down, thinking of the sweet apples I carry home from market on this very path on Saturday mornings. The moonlight gently washes the outside of my eyelids and the inside of my neural pathways, and I slide into some peace under this night sky that I shared with you wherever you were. For just a moment, it's all too perfect - the tender balance of joy, creation, entropy, and absence of meaning in the ebb and flow of this big bang that we find ourselves in the middle of. It's so sweet I'm afraid to upset it, breathing gently in and out of my nose and cradling this balance where I've come to rest, both sides of the scale filled with equal gold and tears.
Questions alight and dance gently on the great grey angst machine inside my skull, but flit on into the open arms of a broad purple sky robust with twinkling yellow stars that gave it all to reach us with their message of beautiful silence. Touched by their persistent footsteps, I cannot hold my ground but only place my palms gently down on the pavement beyond my knees. I slip out of the moment slowly, with a little regret and a tiny smile, thinking of warm fresh bread, kissing and being kissed, bicylce repairs, sailing winches, and how great it is to have local sweet potatoes even up here. I can feel the cosmic non-coincidence of faint vibrations, and hear the horn of the train. A warm breeze blows down the rail corridor, just ahead of the iron horse, and I see the sweet yellow lights of people who can't see me in the darkness. The bright fluorescent lights show me infitesimally small slices of life - a young, wild haired couple leans toward each other, a conductor leans idle in the alcove at the end of the car, a newspaper page is being turned, and the wake of the train is only the futile attempt of noise to leave its mark on the pressing, animated silence.
If only I could remember this passing of time, the universe providing a quiet mirror with no frame, then I could pocket my zen and stroll under the maples, oaks, and ash trees, holding your hand and admiring the brownstones and gently rubbing the brief bit of enlightenment in my pocket between thumb and forefinger. Instead, the search begins again and again, and perhaps we can lose ourselves in that together...