David Bois: No Away, Know How

Waste is inherently uneconomical. A pretty simple concept to grasp (though not so simple to apply on a national economic scale), this is a statement — and I hope I'm not mangling the attribution — that came to my attention by having read one of Paul Hawken's books several years ago. It struck me; it's stuck with me. I'd honestly have to attach hip-pocket mantra status to it.

I get pretty excited about the diversion of would-be contributions to the waste stream away from the path-to-landfill toward some manner of extended or altogether new life. (Do I need to get out more?) I've enjoyed the chance to apply the principle in my past professional life with an almost evangelical fervor.

A decade ago, as environmental manager for a large, dusty, coal-burning behemoth of an industrial facility, part of my focus was to explore and seize opportunities to reclaim solid and water wastes back into the manufacturing process, as well as to incorporate viable externally generated waste sources. This would became possible only with the mad mechanical skills of the industrial wizards who made the place hum and clang.

Before any of that could happen, I needed their buy-in. I needed a hook. Treehugger Dave waxing rhapsodic about ecosystems was the dog that didn't hunt. "Waste is inherently uneconomical," however, worked like a charm. And it works for me on small, mundane scales as well.

I have an enormous soft spot for found objects. This isn't in conflict with my environmentalism as such, but to be honest, I would have to consider it one of my core eccentricities apart from my environmental leaning. Errant notes, lists, drawings, and the like that form the basis for Davy Rothbart's hysterical and poignant Found Magazine, discarded furniture and wares, a sidewalk box of books marked "FREE" — I'm charmed by all of it. An unclaimed object that shows clear signs of use is a story that begs to be told. So while I take the matter of reuse and waste reduction seriously, and have fun with it too, leave it to the Buddhists to render me humbled:

True to its nickname, “Wat Lan Kuad” or “Temple of Million Bottles” features glass bottles throughout the premises of the temple, including the crematorium, surrounding shelters, and yes — even the toilets. There’s an estimated 1.5 million recycled bottles built into the temple, and as you might have guessed, they are committed to recycling more. After all, the more bottles they get, the more buildings they are able to construct.

Of course, it's helpful to know where to draw the line. A found sock? A sidewalk chicken bone? I'll keep walking. But there really is no away at which to throw the stuff we're done with. And our determination of done-ness could be only part of the story. In consideration of a beautiful temple made from discarded glass bottles, I can't help but wonder if whatever the "it" is that we claim to be done with could just as equally be done with us as well.