Little House

Read.

Occasionally I return to a book, or a series of books that impacted me in the past. For the last few weeks it has been the Laura Ingalls Wilder books. It had been more than 20 years since I had read the 'Little House' series and what I discovered is that more than being sweet stories of an idyllic and forgotten age, they are acute recountings of daily life, survival, and ecology from an era all but erased by the industrial and technological revolutions.

The books describe an alien world in which hard work is inevitable, and the nature of that work is largely determined by season and weather. In winter there is the harvesting of ice, large blocks cut by hand from the lake and hauled home to be stored, packed tight with straw in an outside shed til summer. With the thaw comes sugaring as the sap begins to flow into the trees. In spring and summer, there is plowing and planting and the early harvest. In fall, there is the hunt.

I wonder what it means that we have given up the connection between the rhythm of our daily lives and the rhythm of the world around us, that we no longer take responsibility for providing for our own sustenance in any kind of tangible way. How and why, in less than 150 years, have we changed so much of how we live? Is it servicing us? Or has it just blinded us from our ability to be content and have gratitude for hard earned pleasures?

A fiddle, a rag doll, an evening by the fire. It could be so simple.

Unplugged And Happy

Analog.

Ten days is not actually a very long time, but in the age of electronica, taking that much time away from both one's phone and email is regarded by many as self-abuse or some kind of act of aggression towards others.  I think that it is bliss.  Not surprisingly, the world continues to turn without my online participation.  Cat videos and selfies are still posted, dry sarcasm does not fade away, and anyone that really needs to get in touch with me manages to do so.  What is more valuable is the reminder of just how few people really need to get in touch with me.  The internet has a way of amplifying our importance, even if only in our own minds, when really we are still creatures of close-knit families and communities and just because we are able to communicate all the time, in real time, does not mean that we need to or should.  We are not as important and we would like to believe and I take great solace in that knowledge.  Put down your phone, turn off your computer, go outside, whatever it is can wait until later.

The Lost Ones

Hikikomori.

There are over 100,000 Hikikomori, or young recluses estimated to be living in Japan. Coined in the early 2000's, Hikikomori refers to someone, especially a young person who retreats from society and social interaction, rarely leaving the house and not working productively for at least six months, sometimes years.  Their lives are largely lived online and in their parents houses.  Rather than a mental illness or phobia, it is thought that the Hikikomori suffer from a maladjustment to modernity, there is some relevance to generational attributes of laziness and entitlement, but also some kind of hard wiring gone awry in terms of reality and the online world.    It is a growing and world-wide phenomenon and something that we should take notice of as technology continues to evolve faster than ourselves.

Photograph Courtesy of:

http://towakudai.blogs.com/my_weblog/2009/08/sayonara-zetsubo-sensei-aversion-and-hikikomori-at-anime-edit-part-1.html

If a Tree Falls

lcd.

Barack and Michelle Obama entering the inaugural ball on January 20, 2009. What strikes me about this image is that everyone in the audience is viewing the moment via their cell phones and cameras. Not just the press corps, but the attendees, everyone.

This is a phenomenon that I struggle with. Which is more important, participating in the moment, or documenting it? This was an easier question when our technology was still cumbersome and unfamiliar (picture the annoying Dad carrying an eight pound video recorder through an entire family vacation). But now, it's not as easy to draw a line between participation and documentation.

Which is more important, experiencing the moment fully, or being able to share it almost instantaneously with your family, friends, or blog followers? Is the experience somehow enhanced by being able to share it in nearly real time? Is the experience somehow diminished if it's not recorded? That seems to be the modern consensus if the picture above carries any significance. But then, there was a press corps present, a member of which took the picture, so the moment above was, in fact, being recorded. What's astounding is how many people felt the need to record it themselves.

I worry that we are entering an era in which our identities are somehow so tied to other people, that we will all become trees in the forest, afraid that our experiences, our lives, ourselves, will be lost, or perhaps not exist at all, if no one is around to witness it.