The ways of trout and men

"I sit in happy meditation on my rock, pondering, while my line dries again, upon the ways of trout and men. How like fish we are: ready, nay, eager, to seize upon whatever new thing some wind of circumstance shakes down the river of time! And how we rue our haste, finding the gilded morsel to contain a hook. Even so, I think there is some virtue in eagerness, whether its object prove true or false. How utterly dull would be a wholly prudent man, or trout, or world!"
--Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac

As I read these words, I couldn't help but think about the two weeks (was it really just two weeks) at a start-up commune outside Des Moines, IA. With almost no time spent pondering pros and cons, I quit my job for a chance to put my thoughts of self-sustainability into action.

In less resume-leaning words, I've wanted to escape the capitalism-induced rat race for roughly a year. Once while trying to fall asleep, I thought about all the hands my bedsheets, pillows and pillow covers must have gone through to comfort my insomniac self. Where was the cotton grown? Who harvested it? Where does polyester come from? How much were the various human laborers paid? Who drove the materials via semi to the retailer? What was the clerk's name who sold it to me? What happened to those dollars shoved with efficient fingers into the cash register? Like water molecules in the Misssissippi: impossible to know.

The questions piled on top of me, weighing me down. So many invisible hands (no pun intended). Is it perverse to turn up my nose to it all, like a picky toddler? A fan of post-apocalypse fiction, I'm worried. My role in society is to consume. Economists assume we are all rational (as opposed to emotional), self-interested (as opposed to we-interested) individuals (rather than part of an interconnected web of global citizens).

***

Once on sightseeing trip in Laos, we stopped at a village. The huts emptied and a makeshift booth of wares quickly appeared. I found myself haggling with a woman etched in wrinkles for a few dolls. She wanted two dollars, I only had one. My friend gave me a ten, which soon disappeared into the woman's purse. Furious at being "cheated," I stormed back to the taxi, where everyone gave me and my preposterous anger a wide berth. This is what rational self-interest got me: a transaction that left me frustrated and alienated.

Soon I repented. For the price of Ann Coulter's How to Talk to a Liberal (If You Must), the woman's windfall was enough to feed her family for a week. A bit sick at myself, I gave away the dolls to a few girls at a school for children born with H.I.V. in Thailand. Seen in this light, a point of view wholly alien to the self-interested rational consumer, the trade was a good one, a tithing of sorts for the general we're-in-a-mess fund.

***

And so, with thoughts of anti-capitalism whispering through the hallways of my mind, I'm looking for a way to opt-out. I didn't choose this system. If I had any choice in the matter, I'd choose something much different...right? Armed with a college education I shook off that musty job and headed for the woods.

My dreams collided with reality, and there were no survivors. With autumn approaching, I was living in a non-winterized cabin with no running water, no harvest, and a coterie of washed-up hippies who kept most of their belongings at their parents' house a few miles away. To me, this was a lifestyle change; to them, it was a cheap vacation.

None of it was dull, so Leopold was right in that respect. Is my eagerness a virtue, as he intones from the warm spring banks of Wisconsin's Round River circa 1966? To decide that, it's time to pull out its antonyms: reluctant, loath, unwilling. Thank you very much, no. I'm siding with eagerness on this one.

What a day

It's funny what a shift in perception does to a person. For the first time ever, I looked forward to coming home...and for the first time ever, I'm having a great time. It's exhilarating how easy it is. In a dozen different ways the town has been saying "Welcome back!". I've been home for less than a week, and already I have a job, airtime at KAXE and the role of laundress/chorus member in the Grand Rapids Players production of "The Christmas Carol." When I visited Brewed Awakenings, my purchased drink earned me a free beverage of my choice!

I do worry about my sanity in being a "boomerang" young adult. This hometown is by no means perfect. There's not a lot of young people like myself who are "with it." The smart and ambitious usually move to the Twin Cities and beyond, and I fear those who don't have lost some sort of struggle to break free from the backwaters of the Iron Range. Who would choose to return to a community that has always experienced economic stagnation when the country is in the midst of the Great Recession? Have I commited economic suicide just so I could live somewhere closer to my comfort zone?

Thing is, this town is the antithesis of my comfort zone. Throughout my youth, I felt alienated and alone. For years my plan had been to leave town as quickly as possible and never return.

Then I did leave, and walked the earth. My travels include Nicaragua, Vietnam, Spain, and Iowa. I've learned that happiness cannot be found in a particular place like eggs on Easter morning. Furthermore, most cultures don't expect people to go very far from home. Travel? Yes. Pilgrimage? Very much so. Permanent uprooting? From what I've read, Grapes of Wrath being an extreme example, this usually causes more unhappiness than staying put.

Besides, what's not to love about a town with multiple lakes within city limits, the Mississippi, and more forests than the inhabitants know what to do with? It took me a while to admit it, but I fit into this place like one of Mom's knitted mittens fit onto my hands. As far as I'm concerned, my homecoming is a fresh start. It's also a chance to put into action my favorite bumper sticker commandment: think globally, act locally.

In transit, still

I'm at my parents house. My goal: reduce worldly possessions to one (1) box of memorabilia and one (1) backpack. This is hopefully going to be simple--I have the memorabilia box full, and now I just need to pack for Acorn. Once I'm done packing, I'll send the rest to Salvation Army. Still, I know there's going to be a few roadblocks, in particular my beloved teapot and coffeemaker. Then there's the shoe situation, posters, souvenirs... maybe I need a third box of stuff I plan to use if I ever settle down.

Ok, so a backpack and two boxes of worldly possessions. Everything else I can't part with, I bequeath to my parents. They have already unknowingly inherited my food stash and several boxes of books.

I found a website of super-teeny houses. One may even call them one room cabins. It would look great nestled in the woods somewhere. As soon as I have enough money saved up to buy land, the house plans, and the equipment needed to build the house, I'm planting myself somewhere near a lake in northern minnesota. Where I can hear loons calling and watch the northern lights.

Being at my parents house is oddly exhilarating. Usually I dread it, because I spend long stretches of time vegging out and feeling lonely. But after the commune experience I think my expectations have adjusted. The teenage angst from high school has evaporated, and all the clutter in the house has disappeared. These two things were apparently the only issues holding me back from bliss.

I think I'll have myself a sauna tonight. Tomorrow I send the rest of my clutter to Sally A. And buy a plane ticket to Virginny.

About the cabin in the woods. Will I feel lonely? Thing is, I feel lonely even when I'm in a room full of people. In fact, I feel even more lonely, like I've misplaced my soul. Solitude is preferable. As long as I have high speed internet of course. And this all hinges on having an income, which is also a bother. Minnesota's growing season isn't that great, so I'm not sure if I can grow all the food I need myself.

Baby steps. First I'll go to Acorn and embark on my goal towards self-sustainability. The rest will follow--this is definitely something I can figure out.