"An experiment in living with material simplicity and spiritual abundance"
"An experiment in living with material simplicity and spiritual abundance"
By Mark Kutolowski from Metanoia of Vermont Reflections
By
fromOne way we think about our homestead and little community, Metanoia of Vermont, is as an experiment in living with material simplicity and spiritual abundance. We are convinced that the greatest treasures worth pursuing in this life are spiritual and relational, to be found in deep connection and mutual love with God, with other people, and with other creatures and the natural world. To obtain the riches of a deeply connected life, we’ve found that it’s essential to limit our engagement with modern technology, especially but not limited to communications tech.
I often fantasize about going completely ‘off-line’ and entirely removing phone and internet from the property. In our eight years on our homestead, we’ve ‘cut the cord’ twice – once when I dropped a wall on our phone & internet cable during a building demo, and the other time when a relative followed my directions when digging a trench and chewed through our cable. My wife Lisa still jokes that neither one was an accident. Both times, I did feel a sense of ease and relief to be ‘tech free’ for a few weeks, and we did notice a greater ease of conversation and increase in focus among those in residence both times. All the same, our ministry requires a degree of contact and engagement with the outside world, and we’ve decided it’s not practical to drive, bike or walk 4 miles to the town library to send an email. So, we’re left with finding a middle way, with a conscious relationship with communications tech.
We have an office in an outbuilding where we keep a modem, our landline phone, our laptops and printer. When we need to use these tools, we ‘go to work’ over in the office. The physical separation of the tech from our person (we don’t carry smartphones on the property, and we don’t get cell service on most of our 41 acres anyway) gives us a degree of space within which to make a conscious decision about when to use the internet, and why. I’ve found that as long as I have a conscious reason to ‘go to work’ that is aligned with my spiritual commitments and my intention for the day, the internet can be a powerful and effective tool for good. When I use it for entertainment or distraction, it becomes a powerful tool of dissipation. The physical separation helps to increase the likelihood we’re using the internet for the right reasons, in the service of our whole way of life.
I’ve also found that keeping a deliberate relationship with time is a key to a healthy relationship with the internet. In our way of life, this means limiting computer use to the work day, starting at the end of Lauds (morning prayer) at 7:30 AM and finishing by the start of Vespers (evening prayer) at 5:30 PM. While it can be tempting to sneak down to the office to send an email or squeeze in a little work after our kids are asleep, I’m far more likely to indulge in ‘infotainment’ after dark. Better to accept the natural limits of the work day, and to learn to make peace with what is left undone at any given day.
Phones and the internet are one layer where we strive to build a conscious, limited relationship with technology in order to live more whole and deeply spiritual lives. There are many others. We’ve found that we can gain about 90% of the benefits of modern technology, and most of the benefits of low-tech living, by having access to electricity on our property, but not in our home. Within our modest home, we use headlamps and candles for light, and we stay far more in tune with the changing seasons and the natural rhythms of light and darkness. We’ve found that lighting a candle at dusk, or when waking in the middle of a night to tend to a child, creates an environment far more conducive to prayer than flicking on a light switch. Whenever practical, and sometimes when moderately impractical, we opt for manual labor over labor saving technologies. It keeps our bodies connected to the earth and the realities of incarnate life. There’s also a deep satisfaction that comes with learning the intimate, earth-bound skills of our ancestors, whether scything or building stone walls or simply doing dishes (well) by hand. At the same time, we aren’t shy about using some massively effective power tools – freezers and chainsaws, especially – to accomplish the work that is ours to do. This ‘hybrid life’ in relationship with modern tech has helped us to build a bridge between ancient ways of life in relationship with the land and the modern, industrial world in which we were both raised. It’s a dynamic tension, and we’re continuously in discernment about our relationship with these very powerful tools. We continue to ask ‘Is this technology supporting a life of prayer, love and connection, or hindering it?’ and pick up or put down our tools accordingly. The answer to that question changes based on our ages, the time of year, the urgency and scope of the task at hand, the needs of our children, the presence or absence of able-bodied laborers at any given time, and our skills (or lack thereof) with low-tech, more ancestral methods of work. We recognize that there are few fixed answers, but find enduring value in continuing to ask the question.
In all things, our goal is for us to possess our possessions, rather than being possessed by them. When our material (and technological) lives are oriented in service to the greater goods of faithfulness to God and loving service to one another, and our land, our hearts are at peace.
There are countless gifts that come from this way of life, far too many to mention here. As a little window into the gifts of a low-tech, connected life, I want to share one here - the restoration of our senses, both physical and spiritual. As we continue to wean, restrain, and focus our engagement with the digital and technological worlds, we replace that engagement with prayer, presence, and interaction with the natural world. We've experienced our nervous systems gradually recovering and 'detoxing' from modern life, and as this occurs, our senses have begun to wake up. On a simple, physical level, this means there is a keener awareness and intensity to the sensations of daily life. Fruit becomes exquisitely sweet, delightful and fully satisfying, while refined sugars taste so overwhelming that they're simply no longer appealing. A conversation or oral storytelling over a fire invokes rich mental imagery, and movies and TV feel like an assault on the senses. Further, we've begun to feel/sense the intentions of plants and animals around us at subtler levels, tuning into the energies of natural life in ways that are reminiscent of indigenous systems of healing and knowing. Life as a whole is much deeper, richer, and filled with a great abundance, just as it is. We need less and less 'thrill' from digital or other artificial stimulation, and there is more and more satisfaction to simply showing up to the symphony of life as it comes, day by day, and moment by moment.
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