Homesteading
March 16th, 2021It’s not a new message, but it’s one that’s worth repeating, for those who might be receptive to it.
I received an email from someone asking me how I saw “it” coming so long ago. The answer is that there have always been people who viewed the status quo as toxic and unbearable. For me, while living in Southern California around twenty years ago, my first thought upon waking each morning was, “I’m dead if I don’t get out of here.”
So, my move to a very rural area fifteen years ago was not done out of some philosophical, altruistic motivation. It was much more of a white knuckled, pell-mell escape. There were many questions about a lot of things and not a lot of answers…
Fuck it. Just go. It can’t be any worse than this.
Any regrets?
No. None at all.
There are annoyances, but all of that is noise level compared to the benefits.
Via: The Corbett Report:
Everyone knows that it is becoming harder and harder to maintain a life of independence or achieve community with like-minded people in the modern urban environment. Today Curtis Stone (formerly known as The Urban Farmer) joins us to discuss how he is creating a homestead in a rural area to provide food, water, energy and shelter for his family. We discuss the growing movement of people taking the “stead pill” and how others can explore the homesteading solution.
Living in a lovely little corner of the LA basin known as Cabrillo Beach, literally a stone’s throw from the ocean at the base of the bluff, one could be easily forgiven for thinking that our life of relative ease and earning potential stateside was somehow ideal, even enviable.
Sure, there was the constant struggle to seek out clientele and produce content at a level that satisfied the decision maker authorizing the check(s) AND my own sense of accomplishment, but I learned quite early in life that my standards and those of others weren’t exactly on par — and parlayed this simple realization into a relatively low-key professional existence on the fringes of industry, answering to many but beholden to none. Ideal again, right…?
I sure thought so for a few years, enjoying the abundant sunshine, sunrises from the picture window in the living room, sandy walks along the coast and a convertible life gallivanting about among the abundant Californese contradictions. Living a life held up by many as the standard they aimed to achieve.
So, if this was our reality — why did we eventually run screaming for an ancestral farm among the rural hills of a European nation where the wife was born and raised…?
The laundry list is long, so I’ll summarize : it was all one massive hiatus of conscience.
So much enery expended subduing the lifelong voices in my head, with beauty and creativity and excuses, as they screamed at me (again and again and again) that “civilized” life in the contemporary sense is a sham at best but much more likely a vampiric clusterf**k of epic proportions.
In truth, I began to realize just how messed up what we often refer to as “society” really was by junior high, and by high school — as my reading list grew exponentially — the sheer scale of f**kery going on. And this from a kid who had it pretty easy, all things considered, though there was plenty of suffering at the hands of the “fit in” crowd every single time an attempt to point out the inequity on all sides smacked head-on into the metaphysical walls surrounding all who endlessly droned the “American Dream” mantra.
So, after a couple furtive attempts to conform came to much of nothing, I played the only card left in my hand with any functional value : if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. I ruthlessly (and cynically) harnessed all of my abundant creative power and began serving it up to the industrial world, and boy, were they buying.
So began the vicious cycle, spiraling ever higher as the checks kept coming in and the lifestyle began a steady upward trajectory. It was easier to ignore reality surrounded with glorious distraction in every possible form. Artistic expression, check. A fast car and faster pace. Check. The illusion of grandeur on display for all to see. Check.
Still, when among a select few who had surreptitiously demonstrated their “otherness”, I would occasionally let down my guard and discuss the nature of the sham. The high price of maintaining such a shiny facade, both financially and spiritually speaking. Eventually, as always seems to be the case, reality circled back around and nudged the whole thing off track just far enough to force a few steps back. This just happened to coincide with some rather substantial historical events that tore down some of the wife’s own illusions. Standing alone, together, I suggested it was time to abandon the amusement park and get back to basics — and surprise of all surprises, she agreed.
Twenty years of rural life and reflection have clearly demonstrated the wisdom of the decision, and blunted the difficulty of admitting how vainglorious life was during the “success years”. Still, it *was* nice while it lasted, even if it was the height of hubris and did little to improve my spirit for the next round.
The only lesson worth passing on at this stage is that regret is a bitch, best left at the altar along with all your unrealistic expectations. Sometimes living your dreams is actually a slow-motion nightmare, not because you’re achieving or enjoying them, but because the dreams in question aren’t aimed in the right direction. Honest self-reflection is difficult but not impossible, despite our being creatures of habit, just choose better habits.
Is there a point to this whole reflective ramble…?
If you’re contemplating jumping off the merry-go-round at this stage, you should probably hurry the f**k up, ’cause it’s getting harder (and harder) to accomplish, unless you’ve built up serious capital reserves to ease the transition. Life on the fringes isn’t for everybody, but it’s worth it should the challenges and benefits suit you.