I have been thinking a lot about...

..."self-sufficiency" or a more self-sufficient, sustainable lifestyle...and how far one can take that...how far I would want to take it...how far I am even capable of taking it....  This excerpt touches briefly upon what I see as the problems of modern non-self-sufficient life, as well as some of the reasons why one might entertain the idea (freedom, etc....).  Also, it touches briefly upon the real and sobering difficulty of actually entertaining seriously the idea that one might opt out of the bullshit that the modern society has become....

"Self-sufficiency by definition is a state in which someone or something can self-sustain oneself without using outside resources. If you take that statement literally, it is impossible to obtain. Each and every living creature on this planet is dependant upon outside resources in order to survive. For instance, all animals need food to live. Most animals (excluding humans and the animals we feed) hunt and gather food as they did thousands if not millions of years ago. The majority of humans on the other hand, rely on others to produce food. We are no longer hunters and the gatherers, but rather consumers. This interdependency for the most part works. Most people buy their food instead of foraging for food themselves. Of course, buying food means that we must have money. And in order to have money, most of us need a job. Thus starts the vicious circle that has gotten most of us removed from the basics of being self-sufficient.

Besides food, we need other things too - water, shelter and warmth. Again, most people today rely on outside resources to provide these things. People get their water from a faucet, live in a mortgaged home or apartment and rely on heat from an electric or gas utility company. So what does being self-sufficient mean in today's society?

We can be self-sufficient by using our own physical and mental skills to produce food, shelter and warmth in order to sustain one's own existence. It means not relying on others for things that you can do yourself. It is a way of life that reduces our dependency on external resources in order to live. Self-sufficiency for most homesteaders means rekindling the skills once commonly used by past generations: growing, raising and preserving food, making and repairing tools, cutting and drying firewood, mending and/or making clothes and even building a house or a barn.

This is by no means an easy feat. It requires a ton of self-discipline and a determination not found in most people. Especially in today's society where over the years we have grown accustom to depending upon others to provide for our basic needs. As technology makes life "easier", we move further and further away from the basics and lose the skills that once sustained us.

What is gained by self-sufficiency? A greater sense of freedom and greater control of one's life. You will also eat healthier knowing what went into growing and raising your own food. You will reduce your dependency on money and reduce your need to work a stressful, 60 hour per week (or more!) job. Instead of paying a repairman to fix something, you take pride in fixing it yourself.

How self-sufficient one becomes is entirely a personal decision. There are plenty of things to consider and weigh. It is up to each of us to determine how self-sufficient to become."

From here.

Self-sufficient, self-reliant, self-sustainable (whichever name you want to call it by) living is certainly not for the lazy or faint of heart.  I might add that it is also not for those who truly do give more than a rat's ass (which is most of us, myself included, I am afraid) about what society (in the form of neighbors, friends, family, those we may meet socially...) thinks about us.

Silence

This is the seventh of seven poems in a series.

Silence

Nothing is quieter than the Abbey Church
in the middle of the day when all the monks
are at work. Nothing is quieter and more still,
even when the footsteps of a passing monk
echo off the stone walls, and
the lawn mower is heard outside in the distance.

Nothing is quieter than the meditation hall,
even though full of lotus squatting bodies....I hear
the breathing of the bloke beside me.
And the city bus screeches to a halt
at the bus stop outside the window.

Nothing is quieter than this room at 3:00 AM,
even though the dog snores and
the fire crackles and pops in
the fireplace beside me, and
I hear the tires of a car on
the rain soaked pavement outside.

Nothing is quieter than these woods.
An airplane flies over, and I look up.
And then back to my footsteps on the trail,
and the crunching of leaves and twigs
Under my feet. And the wind in the branches,
and the chipmunk squeaking on the log
as I pass by.

Nothing is quieter than the lake at dawn
when the mist rises....
Even though the mourning doves coo
and the woodpecker makes his racket,
and my companion is still snoring in the tent.

Nothing is quieter than silently holding in my arms...
and stroking the hair of my wife...or my daughter....
Nothing is quieter in my heart than this.

Its all silence

Silent night, holy night.

Space

This is the sixth of seven poems in a series.

Space

The house had been dark for days,
the curtains drawn.
Imperceptibly almost, the mood
darkened and dankened.
When the light came in through
the windows....
What was that weight that was sitting on my head?

Her house was full of antiques,
things beautiful and old and full
of an artisan's care.
Wood and stone buddhas,
tapestries, rugs, old jars,
precious knick-knacks
of every description.

Too much. My mind clogged.

No faith in me. Not even a shred.
I still find peace in the stark and spare,
the bright and air,
of a Trappist church.

I stayed there one night, the monastery,
in a room with a bed and a chair and
a window on fields and woods.
That's all.

I slept deeply and peacefully.

Solitude

This is the fifth of seven poems in a series.

Solitude

It's not the woods, it's not the wilderness.
It's only a corner in the walk-in closet.
Or a comfy chair beside the fireplace,
dim light, and there's that buddha
on the mantelpiece.
It's early morning before the sunrise,
or late night after the kids are asleep.

But it is precious, it is clear,
It is the slowing.
It is the food of breathing.
It is the longer thoughts.

It is solitude.
Just a tiny bit.

Ahhhhhhhhh.......

"I left my heart to the wild hunt a comin'.
I live until the call.
And I plan to be forgotten when I'm gone...."

~From "The Wild Hunt" by Kristian Matsson (aka The Tallest Man On Earth)

This reminds me of a post I wrote almost three years ago.

Clean

This is the fourth of seven poems in a series.

Clean

I had a moment while vacuuming, noise and all.
And another moment while washing the dishes,
warm soapy water on my hands.
I do not know what to call these moments.

Trite to say that I did not know for a second or two
where I ended and vacuum began.
Trite to call it "oneness"?  Seems a silly thought
to be one with a vacuum cleaner.

But it was the same
As climbing a mountain.
A moment on a slope when
effort became effortless,
and there was no more desire for destination.
To reach the summit.
There was rhythm to my gait
but I was not aware of my speed as I climbed.

Equilibrium.
In one's whole being.

No longer thinking ahead.
Each footstep, each movement of arm and vacuum,
or each dish...each an event in itself.

A thought:
I do not wish to live only for some future goal.
A great thought, but thinking it
killed the moment....

And later I sat in my clean house
and felt good about
the uncluttered, freed...sacred...space.

"To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury; and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable; and wealthy, not rich; to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly; to listen to stars and birds, to babes and sages, with open heart; to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasion, hurry never; in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious grow up through the common. This is to be my symphony."  ~William Henry Channing

I don't know that I'll go so far as to proclaim that this will be "my symphony", but I think it is a worthy aspiration.  Easier said than done, I'm sure, but a worthy aspiration nonetheless.

Craft

This is the third of seven poems in a series.

Craft

In my dreams (sleeping and waking)
sometimes these days
great cabbages and cauliflowers
watermelons and zucchinis
beans and vines of all descriptions
invade the back porch, the front porch,
overrun all space.

But just beside the house.
There is a small patch,
perhaps 2x10, where herbs
and a few veggies grow feebly,
in too much shade

Just a beginning, feeble, small,
a tiny personal act of rebellion
against a cheap plastic crap globalized
mass produced world...a cheap plastic
crap globalized mass produced life....

At least that's what I tell myself.
And I'm sticking to that.

Gonna make my own soap soon too.

At the end of the day, swamp crawling is the only way.

"We need to radically increase the ratio of grunts to visionaries, with fewer grand pronouncements made from podiums and more belly crawling through the swamps."  ~Auden Schendler in "Getting Green Done."

Amen to that.  And though Schendler is writing of a green/sustainability revolution, I think the principle applies in many parts of human endeavor.  Too often I live by words alone.  And "great thoughts."  At the end of the day the only thing that gets things done is to do them.  Belly crawling through the swamps of life.  Too many of us too often live in the realm of desire only and never take much action.  We want things--the great things, the needed things--to be done...but we don't want to be the ones to do them.  We don't want it enough.  That would require getting all dirty in the swamp.  That could be the swamp of trying to live a greener, more sustainable life, or it could be the swamp of dealing with one's own inner shit and unhealthy patterns, behavior, etc.  No shortcuts in life.  Only gruntwork.

An Epitaph

"If you want to do something for me after I'm gone, live so as to not defile the precious earth."  ~Calvin Rustrum