Re-Gain

After four decades of advocating for better resource management, I find the future increasingly bleak. Ignorance, indifference, and greed have become a dark art—transforming our dreamboat planet into a shipwreck. Once, the word economic evoked restraint: saving, conserving, not consuming. My grandfather—a Princeton and Dartmouth economics professor and USDA trade advisor—shaped my understanding of the tangled roots beneath our financial system. From him, I learned that economics isn’t just about money. It’s about choices, consequences, and stewardship. It was meant to be the sustainable management of resources for the future. Throughout my environmental career, I helped shape pollution prevention and sustainable commerce initiatives—including Clean States, a bold project that, though never launched, sparked urgent dialogue on civic engagement and corporate accountability. Pollution prevention isn’t just sound policy—it’s smart business. It streamlines operations, reduces co...

We come from the Earth, and to it we shall return.  Let us remember this enduring truth: how we live matters. We stand at a critical crossroad.  Does the land belong to us?   Indigenous wisdom says otherwise: we belong to the land. Through neglect, we’ve rendered vast regions uninhabitable for countless beings.  What must we do to ensure the survival of all life?   Our ancestors left us a legacy—wisdom etched in ritual and reverence.  Interdependence is not a choice; it is the foundation of life.  Everything is connected. Let us celebrate this truth through art, music, dance, song, and ritual Expressions of gratitude for the world that sustains us.  Without them, our despair deepens. Let us honor our ancestors by planting seeds of hope.  By walking the four-fold path of renewal, we embody sacred archetypes: - 🌱 The Grateful Warrior: Uses power wisely—to show up with courage.   - 💖 The Compassionate Healer: Ex...

https://www.waste360.com/landfill/revisiting-landfill-long-term-costs-pay-now-or-pay-more-later

To sustain myself, I count blessings. This sacred act stirs me from despair. Each gratitude I name becomes an act of recreation—gentle defiance against destruction. Life is brief. That truth, instead of frightening me, guides me toward joy. If I choose to use less, make less, and walk more lightly, then—whenever my end comes—I leave this Earth not as a conqueror, but as a loving guest. Yet here we stand. Humanity risks reliving the extinction event of 55 million years ago. Only this time, the culprit is clear: it’s us. Each of us holds immense power—not just in policy or protest, but in personal transformation. The most radical act might simply be choosing grace. As the planet warms and population balloons, I live with less. Less clutter. Less worry. Less hurry. We sit atop a melting iceberg—both physically and spiritually. Billions survive on mere dollars a day. Over a billion lack clean water. History is drenched in crisis. We must not repeat its recklessness. Technology ...

As a boy growing up in Bethesda, Maryland it felt more than coincidental that two extraordinary athletes—trailblazers in their sport—emerged almost simultaneously. I first met Donald Dell at the Edgemoor Club, where his electric presence lit up every conversation about tennis. At the time, he had just been named captain of the U.S. Davis Cup team—a title that seemed to glow with prestige. But Dell was never just a standout player; he was a visionary. Years later, he co-founded the Association of Tennis Professionals (ATP) and launched ProServ, one of the earliest and most influential sports marketing firms. His legal training at Yale and the University of Virginia paired with his passion for tennis, making him a formidable force both in the courtroom and on the court. Representing legends like Arthur Ashe, Stan Smith, and Michael Jordan, he fundamentally changed how athletes navigated business, fame, and legacy. In the 1970s, another name—Deane Beman—buzzed through Bethesda...

Awakening in a Mindless World If there are more neural connections in our brain than stars in the Milky Way, then why are we so clueless?   Embracing my own mindlessness, I step forward.  This vulnerability shifts my paradigm. So how do we become more mindful in a mindless world?  It begins with remembering: everything has been thought of before.   Now the question is—can we think of it again? I grew up courting triumphant disaster,  witnessing the best of financial times in an emotionally distant society.   Raised in the material swirl of 1960s Washington, D.C.,  I longed for future wisdom.  But shame and guilt, born of our self-indulgent world,  have often eclipsed such progress. The question remains:  How adaptive are we, truly, in our quest to survive?   Do we treasure resources for the future—or are we deluded? I’ve come to embrace the insignificance of temporary things,  while holding space for the who...