This is just a re-post from https://vimeo.com/127083533. Check out the great video, like is on the bottom.
Through music, the composition bridges the divide between logic and emotion, St. George says. “We often think of the sciences and the arts as completely separate — almost like opposites, but using music to share these data is just as scientifically valid as plotting lines on a graph,” he says. “Listening to the violin climb almost the entire range of the instrument is incredibly effective at illustrating the magnitude of change — particularly in the Arctic which has warmed more than any other part of the planet.”
View The video!
March 17, 2016
March 15, 2016
My Baby
What if I never
had a baby.
If I never had a
baby, I would never be pregnant
Never feel that
joining of me and another.
Never feel that
kick from the inside.
I might never fall
that deeply in love at first sight, or even before.
If I never had a
baby, she would never have her first steps.
She would never
make a twisted face when she first tastes a lemon.
She would never
howl in the darkness of midnight
or
fall bare-bottomed in the summer grass.
If I never had a
baby, she would never buy a computer.
She wouldn’t work
at her first job and save up to buy her first car.
My baby would
never fly in a plane and travel to other countries.
She would never cut
down a tree to build her home or buy oil to heat it.
She would never
leave the lights on or step on an ant.
If I never had a
baby, she would never be an annual birth statistic
or
add to our population.
She would never
consume resources or have a footprint.
She would never
have to struggle and suffer in a future of climate change.
My baby would
never endanger the wilderness and take the lives of others.
If I never have a
baby, I would be a little sad, but try to be a little more proud.
If I never had a
baby, it would benefit all living things,
even
if I know she would be beautiful.
April 5, 2015
Pangolin Clothing Company
Justin Allen is a friend of mine who lives in Western Massachusetts. He has started a clothing company that raises awareness about endangered species as well as helps contribute to their conservation. Justin and his co-founder, Craig Velozo, are building their company and starting to work with other artists as well, to design more work and help protect some of our most endangered animals.
Currently they have a small collection of designs, which are consciously made and sourced. They buy their shirts from American Apparel, ensuring the socially-just production of their products. Each of the shirts cost a mere $25 and they donate at the minimum of 50% of their profits to conservation of the animals they highlight.
In their own words: "Founded in July 2014 by Justin Allen and Craig Velozo, Pangolin launched with a few simple goals in mind: Create unique clothing that stands on its own, provide support and protection to endangered animals, and raise awareness about what’s being done to help."
Check it out and support them here: http://www.pangolinclothingcompany.com
 |
| Some Pangolin models getting their wild on! |
Currently they have a small collection of designs, which are consciously made and sourced. They buy their shirts from American Apparel, ensuring the socially-just production of their products. Each of the shirts cost a mere $25 and they donate at the minimum of 50% of their profits to conservation of the animals they highlight.
 |
| A happy Pangolin T-shirt owner |
 |
| Red panda design from Pangolin |
Check it out and support them here: http://www.pangolinclothingcompany.com
March 13, 2015
A Blessing
A really is a joy to spend hours with a good novel, but I often find my-self reading non-fiction. I love non-fiction and especially something related to science, the environment or art....of course! (I am quite predictable I suppose.)
One of my favorite authors of all time is Edward Abbey, an author that writes in both genres eloquently, boldly and amusingly. He speaks truths without apology, describes human natures poignantly, and is able to describe the grand beauty of nature with his words. An advocate for the environment and freedom, he describes the power and importance of nature with the raw grit and honesty that most people shy away from.
At the moment I am reading The Fool's Progress, which is a semi-autobiographical novel by Abbey. This is the first time I have read Abbey in a few years, and it is good to be back with him. Reading his words again inspired me to share a few lines from this environmental artist, in his own right.
The following is a quote which illustrates Abbey's perspective on life beautifully. A blessing to you all from Abbey (and me):
One of my favorite authors of all time is Edward Abbey, an author that writes in both genres eloquently, boldly and amusingly. He speaks truths without apology, describes human natures poignantly, and is able to describe the grand beauty of nature with his words. An advocate for the environment and freedom, he describes the power and importance of nature with the raw grit and honesty that most people shy away from.
At the moment I am reading The Fool's Progress, which is a semi-autobiographical novel by Abbey. This is the first time I have read Abbey in a few years, and it is good to be back with him. Reading his words again inspired me to share a few lines from this environmental artist, in his own right.
The following is a quote which illustrates Abbey's perspective on life beautifully. A blessing to you all from Abbey (and me):
May your trails be crooked,
winding, lonesome, dangerous,
leading to the most amazing view.
May your mountains
rise into and above
the clouds.
May your rivers flow without end,
meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells,
past temples and castles and poets' towers
into a dark primeval forest where tigers belch and monkeys howl,
through miasmal and mysterious swamps
and down into a desert of red rock, blue mesas, domes and pinnacles
and grottos of endless stone,
and down again into a deep vast ancient unknown chasm
where bars of sunlight blaze on profiled cliffs,
where deer walk across the white sand beaches,
where storms come and go as lightning clangs upon the high crags,
where something strange
and more beautiful and more full of wonder than your deepest dreams waits for you — beyond that next turning of the canyon walls.
-Desert Solitaire, Edward Abbey
October 20, 2014
Tricia Zimic
In delicate palettes and dynamic compositions, Tricia Zimic juxtaposes native wildlife with cityscapes to address how human society affects the natural environment. Zimic works in as a re-forester and make some of her art based on things she sees and experiences in the field. She works in porcelain sculpture as well as in oil paint. She researches the conservation status of her subject matter and then explores interesting ways of portraying them and their story. She shows a bobcat in the city, a salamander next to its beer can home, the battle between native and invasive species, and haunting images of toxic landscapes where our very survival is questioned.
"To me, these pieces are as fragile as the true animals and remain a record of what we have with us today but may lose tomorrow." -Tricia Zimic
"To me, these pieces are as fragile as the true animals and remain a record of what we have with us today but may lose tomorrow." -Tricia Zimic
 |
| The Garden of Earthly Delights: As it is A triptych: As it was, As it is, and As it will be |
 |
| Zimic with The Garden of Earthly Delights In the description of this piece: "Years ago Chief Seattle said to his tribesmen ‘What is man without beasts? If all beasts were gone, men would die from loneliness of spirit. For whatever happens to beasts soon happens to man.'" |
 |
| UprisingAddressing the contentious debate over the presence of wolves in and around human development. Here the wolves are taking back their territory that we have taken from them. |
 |
| Zimic working on a sculpture. |
 |
| Flight or Fight Depicting a fight between native species of New Jersey and alien invasives from Europe. |
September 22, 2014
The day the people showed up.
Yesterday morning I hit snooze on my alarm and rolled over in bed, just to have a few more minutes under the comfy warm covers. When I opened my eyes again I jumped out of bed and into action. I had stayed in too long, but I got dressed I went right to the kitchen to make some coffee and fed the dog. Then I packed a small bag with some snacks, a jacket, my camera, one of my paintings and a fist full of business cards. Then I went to the guest room door and gave it a little knock. My traveling companion was up, but had also slept in. Even with our delays, we were out in the car and pulling out of the driveway by 7:30 AM, only 30 minutes later than anticipated.
After a three hour drive, made shorter by great conversation, we realized that we had missed our turn off and found ourselves slightly too far east. With a little quick thinking and only a few neighborhood streets we were back on our way towards the George Washington Bridge. From there we worked our way south along the western edge of Yonkers down to Manhattan.
The first thing to strike me as we approached our destination were an exceptional amount of New York City resident runners out and about, porting their fit bodies in the warm and hazy September morning. The local fitness fans were not the only people out on the streets on September 21, 2014. We, like so many others, had come to the city to take part in the People's Climate March. We joked with each other that couldn't find parking because so many marchers had inundated the city.
We walked onto Central Park West on 89th Street behind the end of the designated march site. For about an hour we walked down and then up Central Park West looking at the marches organizing themselves. They held signs, wore costumes, sang, and milled around taking in the scene. The atmosphere was light. Everyone's excitement and positivity was apparent by the smiles and feeling on comradery that wafted from the crowd. Dreaded hippies, i-phone toting hipsters, Vietnam era weed legalizers, cat-loving grandmothers, youth activists, socialists, monks, drag queens, anti-fracking advocates, meditaters, bike lovers, and even a few dogs came out and a united voice to ask the heads of states who will be converging on the UN headquarters tomorrow for meaningful climate action. At one point I realized how many NYPD officers were lining the streets on either side of the organizers, and for a second I wondered if there was a chance of this ending in violence. I only let the thought cross my mind and then let it go, mustering faith that no one that I could see looked like they wanted anything more than an honest and heartfelt plea for a better future.
Waiting in line people chatted among themselves, danced and sang to the breakout of song from the trumpets, and shared snacks of apple slices and leaves of kale. The feeling of common good, desire for bettering the world, and love of all approaches to get there held everyone together with the common vision of a beautiful and healthy future. This is what really defined the day for me, it was really amazing to witness and be a part of. The police and city staff were right there with us, smiling and chatting or chuckling at the marchers' enthusiasm.
It certainly felt like a lot of people had turned out, but there is really no way of judging when you are in the middle of it all. When we heard that they were estimating over 310,000 people came and that we had filled up about 4 miles of Manhattan streets, we were overjoyed. We were, we all were, making history. We had taken a day out of our busy lives to come together to focus on something that is bigger than us all individually, to focus on the most important and far-reaching issue of our lifetimes.
By about 4:30 PM we had gotten to the end of the march. We had taken about five hours to walk from Central Park West and 83rd Street down to 11th Ave and 34th Street where the march ended. Although the end was slightly anti-climactic, we jumped and gave each other an air high five to commemorate our walk through the Big Apple.
Thank you to everyone who showed up yesterday to make history, and to all those who were with us in spirit around the world. It was a day to remember and be proud of.
After a three hour drive, made shorter by great conversation, we realized that we had missed our turn off and found ourselves slightly too far east. With a little quick thinking and only a few neighborhood streets we were back on our way towards the George Washington Bridge. From there we worked our way south along the western edge of Yonkers down to Manhattan.
The first thing to strike me as we approached our destination were an exceptional amount of New York City resident runners out and about, porting their fit bodies in the warm and hazy September morning. The local fitness fans were not the only people out on the streets on September 21, 2014. We, like so many others, had come to the city to take part in the People's Climate March. We joked with each other that couldn't find parking because so many marchers had inundated the city.
We walked onto Central Park West on 89th Street behind the end of the designated march site. For about an hour we walked down and then up Central Park West looking at the marches organizing themselves. They held signs, wore costumes, sang, and milled around taking in the scene. The atmosphere was light. Everyone's excitement and positivity was apparent by the smiles and feeling on comradery that wafted from the crowd. Dreaded hippies, i-phone toting hipsters, Vietnam era weed legalizers, cat-loving grandmothers, youth activists, socialists, monks, drag queens, anti-fracking advocates, meditaters, bike lovers, and even a few dogs came out and a united voice to ask the heads of states who will be converging on the UN headquarters tomorrow for meaningful climate action. At one point I realized how many NYPD officers were lining the streets on either side of the organizers, and for a second I wondered if there was a chance of this ending in violence. I only let the thought cross my mind and then let it go, mustering faith that no one that I could see looked like they wanted anything more than an honest and heartfelt plea for a better future.
Waiting in line people chatted among themselves, danced and sang to the breakout of song from the trumpets, and shared snacks of apple slices and leaves of kale. The feeling of common good, desire for bettering the world, and love of all approaches to get there held everyone together with the common vision of a beautiful and healthy future. This is what really defined the day for me, it was really amazing to witness and be a part of. The police and city staff were right there with us, smiling and chatting or chuckling at the marchers' enthusiasm.
It certainly felt like a lot of people had turned out, but there is really no way of judging when you are in the middle of it all. When we heard that they were estimating over 310,000 people came and that we had filled up about 4 miles of Manhattan streets, we were overjoyed. We were, we all were, making history. We had taken a day out of our busy lives to come together to focus on something that is bigger than us all individually, to focus on the most important and far-reaching issue of our lifetimes.
By about 4:30 PM we had gotten to the end of the march. We had taken about five hours to walk from Central Park West and 83rd Street down to 11th Ave and 34th Street where the march ended. Although the end was slightly anti-climactic, we jumped and gave each other an air high five to commemorate our walk through the Big Apple.
Thank you to everyone who showed up yesterday to make history, and to all those who were with us in spirit around the world. It was a day to remember and be proud of.
 |
| There were people supporting all forms of energy, just as long as there is no greenhouse gases involved. |
 |
| Don't miss the irony here. This scull was a part of a Bread & Puppet performance and represented the death machine of fossil fuels. In the background is a poster for a dinosaur exhibit at the Natural History Museum. Up on the top of the building's facade stand significant men of science, wondering about all this... |
 |
| This is all very hard work! |
 |
| Love this! |
 |
| A flooding NYC was a theme. poignant. |
 |
| A little comedy on some very un-funny issues, always welcome. |
 |
| All generations represented. |
 |
| Here they are watching the Bread & Puppet performance. |
 |
| A group meditating along the side of the march, hopefully magnifying our actions. |
 |
| Our wishes of what not to loose to climate change. |
September 15, 2014
What is useful anyways?
Although I understand why it happens, I frequently find myself asking "why?" Why are humans so self centered? Why does nature have to benefit humans to be valuable to us? Why is the anthropocentric world view so common and socially acceptable?
Life on earth and all her interconnections are too complex for us to fully understand. Who are we to judge what is important and more worthy of life? Given that we all evolved here together shouldn't the miracle that life is, be enough?
Useless Creatures
By Richard Conniff
This article contains no useful information. Zero. Nada. Nothing. If usefulness is your criterion for reading, thank you very much for your time and goodbye, we have nothing more to say. The truth is that I am bored to tears by usefulness. I am bored, more precisely, of pretending usefulness is the thing that really matters.
I mostly write about wildlife. So here is how it typically happens for me: A study comes out indicating that species x, y and z are in imminent danger of extinction, or that some major bioregion of the planet is being sucked down into the abyss. And it’s my job to convince people that they should care, even as they are racing to catch the 7:10 train, or wondering if they’ll be able to pay this month’s (or last month’s) rent.
My usual strategy is to trot out a list of ways even the most obscure species can prove unexpectedly, yes, useful. The first effective treatment that turned H.I.V. from a death sentence into a manageable condition? Inspired by the biochemistry of a nondescript Caribbean sponge. The ACE inhibitors that are currently among our most effective treatments for cardiovascular disease (and which have lately been proposed as a treatment for Ebola)? Developed by studying the venom of the fer-de-lance, a deadly snake found from Mexico to northern South America. The new medical bandage that’s gentle enough for the delicate skin of newborns and the elderly? Modeled on the silk of spider webs.
Every time I begin this line of argument, though, I get the queasy feeling that I am perpetuating a fallacy. It’s not that I’m telling lies; these examples are entirely real. But given, for instance, that three-quarters of our farm crops depend on insect pollinators, or that more than 2.6 billion people rely directly on seafood for protein, it seems a little obvious to be reminding people that wildlife can be useful, or, more to the point, that human survival depends on wildlife. Without saying so out loud, the argument also implies that animals matter only because they benefit humans, or because just possibly, at some unknowable point in the future, they might benefit humans.
You don’t have to look too far to see how silly this can get. In truth, I don’t have to look at all, because university press offices fill my inbox with examples every day: The Harvard scientists who hope their study of cuttlefish skin will “inspire improved protective camouflage for soldiers on the battlefield.” The Berkeley team that thinks studying the genetics of blubber-eating polar bears could help us learn to live with our bacon-wrapped, wide-load lifestyle. And the wonderful folks at Nanyang Technological University, in Singapore, who believe “Squid sucker ring teeth material could aid reconstructive surgery, serve as eco-packaging.” (And you thought they were good only for calamari.)
I don’t entirely blame the scientists. Their research often depends on taxpayer funding, and their dreams are haunted by the ghost of United States Senator William Proxmire’s Golden Fleece Award. That award garnered headlines by ridiculing outlandish-seeming items in the federal budget, and animal behavior studies were a juicy target. So now people doing that kind of research all feel obliged to imply that they are two steps away from a cure for the common cold. No basic research here, Senator, sir, no idle curiosity. Useful “R” Us. (They also delight in pointing out that one of Mr. Proxmire’s targets — a $250,000 investigation into the sex life of the screwworm fly — has yielded $20 billion in benefits to American cattle farmers by enabling control of a major insect pest.)
Improbably, wildlife conservationists now also often hear the call of the useful. Along with a large contingent of eco-finance bureaucrats, they try to save threatened habitats by reminding nearby communities of all the benefits they derive from keeping these habitats intact. Forests, meadows and marshes prevent floods, supply clean water, provide habitat for species that pollinate crops, put oxygen into the atmosphere and take carbon out, and otherwise make themselves useful. In some cases, conservation groups or other interested parties actually put down cash for these ecosystem services — paying countries, for instance, to maintain forests as a form of carbon sequestration. The argument, in essence, is that we can persuade people to save nature by making it possible for them to sell it. They can take nature to the bank, or at least to the local grocery. They can monetize it. (The new revised version of Genesis now says, “God made the wild animals according to their kinds, and he said, ‘Let them be fungible.’ ”)
I understand the logic, or at least the desperation, that drives conservationists to this horrible idea. It may seem like the only way to keep what’s left of the natural world from being plowed under by unstoppable human expansion and by our insatiable appetite for what appears to be useful. But usefulness is precisely the argument other people put forward to justify destroying or displacing wildlife, and they generally bring a larger and more persuasive kind of green to the argument. Nothing you can say about 100 acres in the New Jersey Meadowlands will ever add up for a politician who thinks a new shopping mall will mean more jobs for local voters (and contributions to his campaign war chest). Nothing you can say about the value of rhinos for ecotourism in South Africa will ever matter to a wildlife trafficker who can sell their horns for $30,000 a pound in Vietnam.
Finally, there is the unavoidable problem that most wildlife species — honey badgers, blobfish, blue-footed boobies, red-tailed hawks, monarch butterflies, hellbenders — are always going to be “useless,” or occasionally annoying, from a human perspective. And even when they do turn out, by some quirk, to be useful, that’s typically incidental to what makes them interesting. Cuttlefish do not fascinate because their skin may suggest new forms of military camouflage, but because of the fantastic light shows that sometimes play across their flanks. Spider web silk doesn’t intrigue because somebody can turn it into bandages, but because of the astonishing things spiders can do with it — stringing a line across a stream and running trotlines down the surface to catch water striders, for instance, or (in the case of the species named mastophora dizzydeani) flinging a ball of silk on a thread like a spitball to snag moths out of the air.
Wildlife is and should be useless in the same way art, music, poetry and even sports are useless. They are useless in the sense that they do nothing more than raise our spirits, make us laugh or cry, frighten, disturb and delight us. They connect us not just to what’s weird, different, other, but to a world where we humans do not matter nearly as much as we like to think.
And that should be enough.
"Oh, it is just human nature." "All species worry about themselves first." "That's natural."
Maybe to a certain respect it is natural, or at least makes sense on some primal level. It makes sense that someone will worry about their daughter more than an insect, and how a flower may cure their cancer more than a "useless" minnow swimming in a stream. But shouldn't what sets humans apart from other animals allow us to think more deeply and broadly about the value of nature?
I can't help wondering why our consciousness, our understanding of how the world works, and our ability to flourish on this earth rather than just survive doesn't leave room in the human mind to appreciate and value all living things for their innate worth. Let things live for their own sake. Attempt to protect living things for their own right to live. Do we really need more than we already have, more space, more water, more forests, more resources? Or can we understand that our ingenuity is all we need to be perfectly satisfied with what we have and still continue to raise our standard of living in order to leave plenty of space and resources for other life.
We have all we need in intellectual capitol to live amazing and beautiful lives today without taking away from other living things. Yet, somehow, we still have to convince people to care about the natural world only through describing how the natural word will benefit them in some tangible and utilitarian way.
Below is an article from New York Times blogger Richard Conniff addressing just this issue. I really appreciate this article and the questions that it brings up. For my last project, that involved raising awareness about 50 species affected by climate change, I thought about this a lot. I chose some species that conjure up sympathy from people, such as the panda bear and the holy cocoa tree. Since I feel pretty passionate about all living things being equally important in the unbelievable complex network that is the biosphere, I consciously chose other species that people usually don't recognize like zooplankton, chytrid fungus, and pine beetles.
With regards to environmental art, the idea of how to frame environmental conservation and how to get people's attention are central to how to be effective. What do you want your main message to be? Do you want to "market" the environment in order to "sell it better?" Or, do you want to be more raw, crunchy and lean towards deep ecology? Maybe the inherent worthiness of nature doesn't quite sell as well to society.
Useless Creatures
By Richard Conniff
September 13, 2014
Every time I begin this line of argument, though, I get the queasy feeling that I am perpetuating a fallacy. It’s not that I’m telling lies; these examples are entirely real. But given, for instance, that three-quarters of our farm crops depend on insect pollinators, or that more than 2.6 billion people rely directly on seafood for protein, it seems a little obvious to be reminding people that wildlife can be useful, or, more to the point, that human survival depends on wildlife. Without saying so out loud, the argument also implies that animals matter only because they benefit humans, or because just possibly, at some unknowable point in the future, they might benefit humans.
You don’t have to look too far to see how silly this can get. In truth, I don’t have to look at all, because university press offices fill my inbox with examples every day: The Harvard scientists who hope their study of cuttlefish skin will “inspire improved protective camouflage for soldiers on the battlefield.” The Berkeley team that thinks studying the genetics of blubber-eating polar bears could help us learn to live with our bacon-wrapped, wide-load lifestyle. And the wonderful folks at Nanyang Technological University, in Singapore, who believe “Squid sucker ring teeth material could aid reconstructive surgery, serve as eco-packaging.” (And you thought they were good only for calamari.)
I don’t entirely blame the scientists. Their research often depends on taxpayer funding, and their dreams are haunted by the ghost of United States Senator William Proxmire’s Golden Fleece Award. That award garnered headlines by ridiculing outlandish-seeming items in the federal budget, and animal behavior studies were a juicy target. So now people doing that kind of research all feel obliged to imply that they are two steps away from a cure for the common cold. No basic research here, Senator, sir, no idle curiosity. Useful “R” Us. (They also delight in pointing out that one of Mr. Proxmire’s targets — a $250,000 investigation into the sex life of the screwworm fly — has yielded $20 billion in benefits to American cattle farmers by enabling control of a major insect pest.)
Improbably, wildlife conservationists now also often hear the call of the useful. Along with a large contingent of eco-finance bureaucrats, they try to save threatened habitats by reminding nearby communities of all the benefits they derive from keeping these habitats intact. Forests, meadows and marshes prevent floods, supply clean water, provide habitat for species that pollinate crops, put oxygen into the atmosphere and take carbon out, and otherwise make themselves useful. In some cases, conservation groups or other interested parties actually put down cash for these ecosystem services — paying countries, for instance, to maintain forests as a form of carbon sequestration. The argument, in essence, is that we can persuade people to save nature by making it possible for them to sell it. They can take nature to the bank, or at least to the local grocery. They can monetize it. (The new revised version of Genesis now says, “God made the wild animals according to their kinds, and he said, ‘Let them be fungible.’ ”)
I understand the logic, or at least the desperation, that drives conservationists to this horrible idea. It may seem like the only way to keep what’s left of the natural world from being plowed under by unstoppable human expansion and by our insatiable appetite for what appears to be useful. But usefulness is precisely the argument other people put forward to justify destroying or displacing wildlife, and they generally bring a larger and more persuasive kind of green to the argument. Nothing you can say about 100 acres in the New Jersey Meadowlands will ever add up for a politician who thinks a new shopping mall will mean more jobs for local voters (and contributions to his campaign war chest). Nothing you can say about the value of rhinos for ecotourism in South Africa will ever matter to a wildlife trafficker who can sell their horns for $30,000 a pound in Vietnam.
Finally, there is the unavoidable problem that most wildlife species — honey badgers, blobfish, blue-footed boobies, red-tailed hawks, monarch butterflies, hellbenders — are always going to be “useless,” or occasionally annoying, from a human perspective. And even when they do turn out, by some quirk, to be useful, that’s typically incidental to what makes them interesting. Cuttlefish do not fascinate because their skin may suggest new forms of military camouflage, but because of the fantastic light shows that sometimes play across their flanks. Spider web silk doesn’t intrigue because somebody can turn it into bandages, but because of the astonishing things spiders can do with it — stringing a line across a stream and running trotlines down the surface to catch water striders, for instance, or (in the case of the species named mastophora dizzydeani) flinging a ball of silk on a thread like a spitball to snag moths out of the air.
Wildlife is and should be useless in the same way art, music, poetry and even sports are useless. They are useless in the sense that they do nothing more than raise our spirits, make us laugh or cry, frighten, disturb and delight us. They connect us not just to what’s weird, different, other, but to a world where we humans do not matter nearly as much as we like to think.
And that should be enough.
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