Flexibility

The key to any sustainability is flexibility. The word, "sustainable", has become popular in the energy sector of the capitalist economy. It implies the production of energy with low environmental cost or impact. Basically, to sustain something implies keeping it going. Each of us has a single, precious life to sustain to the best of our ability with the help of society.

Linear thinking was the methodology of the male-dominated society of my youth. It was expected that a person would be classified in the educational system and steered into a career path to eventually be enabled to earn a living at a job which suited that person's abilities. One block built on another. One grade on another. One degree on another. One job title on another.

This linear thinking does not promote flexibility. In fact, it stifles it. And, today, we see those who are still working under this system of education in less affluent parts of society struggling to keep up with the non-linear evolution of technologies and economic structures. They feel left in the wake of a plow of socioeconomic change, which has ripped up the neat paths laid out for them earlier in life.

When I came to the awareness that I am different and part of a social minority which would not benefit from the traditional linear paths to acceptance and promotion, I realized that the linear model would simply not work for me , unless I consciously killed very basic parts of who I am. I did not see that as an option. I had struggled from childhood to function with psychological and physical impairments which challenged my acceptance by my own family, teachers and peers. I refused to stifle myself as entered adulthood to satisfy anyone's opinion of me.

So, I discovered that flexibility eased my anxiety and often opened paths otherwise obscured by the obvious road signs of linear thinking. A turning point for me came when I was 21. My first partner and I rented a house by the sea. We were both silly romantics. The rent was irresistibly cheap and the commute to work every day was horribly arduous.

The lovely Gothic cottage, with breathtaking views of an iconic Massachusetts town across a mast-studded harbor, leaked like a sieve, had a poltergeist and was equipped with a dying oil furnace which belched soot everywhere. We loved it. That is, we loved it until the landlord tried raising our rent after 6 months of a harsh winter there.

My linear mind was determined to stay there somehow. My partner, who was much less linear than I, just shrugged and went on with his life. He left it for me to figure out. I went to see my landlord. His brownstone in Boston's Back Bay, a family treasure, was decorated with gilted fresco ceilings, painted with cherubs. I was led by a housekeeper to the leather-upholstered parlor, where I sat in front of an ornate fireplace and speculated about the warm comfort the landlord had experienced the preceding winter, while my lover and I had huddled under quilts and blankets to keep warm. By the time my landlord and wife entered imperiously, I was quite ready.

I told him I would not be paying the rent increase. He replied that I must. He also said it was too late in the year to replace me with a summer tenant. His opinion, his linear opinion, was that I simply must stay and pay the increase. It was, he implied, the honorable thing for me to do. I don't recall all of what I said in response. I do remember it was along the lines of "you cheap Yankee bastard". Then I left without being shown out by the housekeeper.

For a week thereafter, I was tortured by the ethics of the situation. My linear thinking had me locked into powerlessness. I thought I'd never be able to get another place to live without a reference from my first landlord. He had threatened to pursue me legally if I left. I couldn't see step B from my step A to my step C. My partner, a truly wonderful but very liberated human being, was no help. He guiltlessly ignored the whole sitation and went about living life as usual.

One night, I had a dream. I woke up with a clear sense of what needed to be done. I bought a paper. I found an apartment listing that suited our meager budget. The new landlord, a man who lived on his property, took in my story, looked me over and extended his hand to seal the deal. The following weekend, we moved everything out of the Gothic cottage. We sighed and took in one last view of the harbor. I pushed the keys under the front door with a simple note telling the landlord what he could do with them.

We never heard from our Back Bay landlord, for whom linear thinking was a questionable privilege afforded him by linear-thinking ancestors with cannons and guns. I learned a valuable lesson. Flexibility in thought and action can mean the difference between stagnation and healthy movement. Following the playbook, dictated often by those with a vested interest in the stagnation of others, isn't always the way to proceed if you want to sustain yourself. Perhaps, it is not good for a society either.

This doesn't imply that I believe that any action in the name of flexibility or sustainability is right or good. I believe deeply in the rule of just law. However, the linear logic of law is not always just. It is often encrusted with class privilege and the weighed down by the influence of money, as we can see in our current political process. Maintaining a sense of personal flexibility by empowering oneself with information and developing a practical, daily ethical standard can greatly sustain personal development and freedom when confronted with injustice or unfair standards.