I have heard that insanity is persistently trying to solve a problem using a means that doesn't work.

My reason for starting an outpost here in Tokyo is because I am coming to realize that the decision to prepare for a catastrophic future is a personal one -- one that can only be made by people who are able and willing to accept the inevitability of oil depletion, and its devastating consequences, in the near future. When I first began to put the pieces together, I realized that, regardless of what people may think the risk is, the gravity of the stakes is epic. However, I approached some of my closest confidantes only to find that most of them were not ready to accept peak oil as an imminent reality. Inwardly alone, I considered staying with them in their sinking ship and living moment by moment until the ominous event would occur. But the deep and growing realization that the world is not just my own circle of confidantes prevents me from taking such a course...

As I rode my bike through Nogawa Park today and over Tohachi Doro on a fine Saturday afternoon, I saw people playing frisbee in the park and a long, long line of cars waiting for each other on Tohachi. The two scenes together made me realize that in this capital city, in a country with over 10 times the population density of the U.S., we might expect to eventually see fewer cars on the street and more people in the park.

But perhaps we will see more tents in the park. I have seen some sophisticated tent dwellings in Chuo Park in Shinjuku before, as well as under a bridge over the Tama River in Fuchuu. Some park dwellers have been known to carry their own hand-crank generators, with which they power their TVs. But the abundance of food in our carbonated society allows volunteers to provide many of these park dwellers with crucial subsistence. Could this volunteer enterprise ever be taxed to the limit if oil prices eventually ran up the price of food? I fear it could and it will.

As an American living in Japan, where I was born and partly raised, I am interested in building my own skills in permaculture farming in my back yard and maybe even fishing (I have no idea where), in planning for old age in a post-carbon world, and in settling my personal affairs before trans-Pacific travel becomes no longer possible. As an educator, I feel compelled to consider what education should mean, both in the "developed" world and in the "developing" world for the future to come. What should I be teaching my students in light of what may soon transpire?

The great demands of this transition must also be balanced with everyday carbon-era responsibilities. Making this transition will certainly demand new approaches to current work and routines, which are challenging enough in and of themselves. Only by networking with others can we derive new possibilities and ways to redirect our lifestyles, goals, work, communities, and our civilization.

Let's create a safe place to talk about a dangerous problem. Let's brainstorm and see what our pooled intelligence and diligence can do. Let's be open to learning from survivors in our communities and elsewhere. Let's help each other anticipate the crisis in advance so we can maximize all of our chances of thriving, or at least surviving.