July/August 2002

In Search of the Simple life
Has Technology Delivered Us... or Enslaved Us?

by Greg Hartman

When my wife, Sarah, got pregnant in 1995, I did what every red-blooded American male does when his wife is pregnant for the first time: I quit my job, sold our house and dragged Sarah and our unborn child from Kansas to Oregon so I could go to Bible college.

We arrived, nearly broke, to discover that the married student housing we'd been promised was still under construction, forcing us to put our things in storage and rent a tiny, dingy studio apartment. Moving in took about 10 minutes; all we had room for were some clothes, a few dishes, one chair, a futon and a clock radio on a nightstand, which we dubbed our entertainment center.

And as we stood there, surrounded by fewer possessions than either of us had had since birth, we made a startling discovery: Almost all those wildly popular books on "simplifying your life" are pure bunk.

My Calendar Runneth Over

Life is overwhelming these days, say the simplification gurus. We have too much work, too much entertainment, too many choices, too many voices, too little free time and no solitude.

Nonsense, say I. Life is hectic, to be sure. But that's hardly a new phenomenon. Epicurus and Aristotle both complained that life had a nasty habit of overflowing one's days and draining one's soul, and they didn't even have to deal with road rage, soccer practice or ATMs.

The simplification gurus also seem to assume that all of us, deep down, really want to be Thoreau living on Walden Pond, with nothing to do all day but think deep thoughts.

More nonsense. Deep down, most of us aren't deep at all; we, in fact, suspect Thoreau was crazy.

When Sarah and I faced the prospect of three months in a coed monk's cell with no diversions and no money, we did not -- repeat not -- say, "Praise God! Stripped of our normal distractions, we can at last devote as much time as we please to prayer, meditation and enlightening conversation!" And this wasn't just because we were shallow Baby Boomers needing constant entertainment (although that was a larger factor than I cared to admit).

Like everyone, we complained about being overwhelmed. But like everyone else, we also wanted to be overwhelmed, or at least busy enough to stay distracted. It's terrifying to have nothing but one another, much less oneself, for company. And it's no better for Christians: We know all too well that we're sinners, and sometimes the last thing in the world we want to hear is that still, small voice.

Tipping the Balance

The problem, then, is neither new nor external. We hate being too busy; we fear being too quiet. Our circumstances, income, possessions and commitments are usually irrelevant. Few of us ever enjoy -- or endure -- real peace and quiet unless, like Sarah and I, we get forced into it.

Fearsome as it was, our solitude had its benefits. We learned to like being quiet together. We went to the library a lot, an addiction we still enjoy. We took lots of walks.

And we learned why the simplicity books, bunk though they may be, are so popular. Simplicity gurus, no matter what their methods, know what we want: We want to be proactive rather than reactive. We want to feel in control rather than under control. We want to produce more than we consume without being consumed ourselves. We want to feel that we've mastered life, not that life is masticating us. And tipping the balance in our favor, even a little, can make all the difference in the world.

Having been denied the complexity of life long enough to learn to enjoy its absence, Sarah and I managed to keep it from making a full comeback. Being a humor columnist hardly qualifies me to give the sort of career/life goal advice most simplicity gurus do, but I have learned a few tricks to keep my home from becoming Grand Central Station for the runaway freight train of life.

1. Nuke the Guilt. Most self-help books have the same subtext: "You're not good enough. You're fat, ugly, lazy, unmotivated, unsuccessful, poor, stupid, bald, a lousy parent or all of the above." Add to that the annoying perfection of androids like Martha Stewart or Tony Robbins and it's enough to give anyone the shrieking fantods.

God judges us by our relationships, though, not our wardrobe, our weight, our kids' number of extracurricular activities or whether we can whip up a portobello scallop salad with braised shallots from our window garden.

· Scenario 1: Mom gets up way too early Thanksgiving morning and grinds out an exhausting, elaborate feast, all the while yelling at the kids to stay out of the kitchen; Dad tries simultaneously to be helpful and stay out of the way.

Finally, the whole family eats a strained dinner in uncomfortable clothes. Both parents glare, daring the kids not to be a living Norman Rockwell painting. This, they explain through clenched teeth, is a treasured family memory in the making, "und zey vill enjoy it!"

· Scenario 2: Mom, Dad and the kids sleep in on Thanksgiving, throw a frozen pizza in the microwave for lunch, play touch football, take a long walk, watch a video and make s'mores in the fireplace before bed, leaving the sink full of dirty dishes.

Sarah and I have enjoyed family gatherings on both ends of this spectrum. If you enjoy cooking and all the pageantry of a state banquet, go for it. But don't let anyone tell you Scenario 1 is inherently better than Scenario 2.

Maybe your kids snack on Fritos and Oreos instead of carrot sticks and figs. Maybe there's seven pounds of dog hair under your couch. Maybe you e-mail all your friends and never write real letters anymore. So what? Sustaining your relationships sometimes takes relaxing your standards -- at least some of the twisted, shallow standards the world pushes at us. Better a home that will never appear in House Beautiful than a family that would be at home in National Enquirer (Proverbs 17:1).

2. Kill Your Telephone. Telephones exist to serve us, not vice-versa -- but lunging at a ringing phone, even if it's interrupting dinner or a conversation, is a tough habit to break. Not answering the phone is considered as impolite as ignoring someone who's speaking to you in person.

Nevertheless, I won't pay good money for a box on the wall to tell me what to do. If the phone rings at my house while we're otherwise engaged, too bad. If I answer and it's a sales call, I butt in, say, "Not interested" and hang up.

I have a friend with better manners than I -- but who is even more determined not to let his telephone run his life. His method is simple: He never, ever answers the phone. The ringer and answering machine sound are off permanently; he checks the machine once or twice a day. He's the only person I know who never complains about telemarketers.

Your home is your family's refuge, a sanctuary against unwanted intrusion (Proverbs 25:17). If you wouldn't allow strangers, or even friends, to barge through your front door at all hours, why allow them to barge in through the phone? It's amazing how much tranquility the phone's absence can foster.

3. Read Books. Notice I didn't just say "read." In The Big Chill, Jeff Goldblum's character, a journalist, complains that his editor's cardinal rule is that all articles must be short enough to finish in the bathroom. With all due respect to this fine publication, Goldblum was right: Most popular reading materials are mental junk food. We've all seen surveys on the world's most influential books. Ever been asked about history's most influential fashion columnist or movie reviewer?

There's nothing inherently wrong with magazines and newspapers, but reading a book requires more mental and physical quiet, not to mention a greater time commitment. Books have more ideas, larger worlds to explore, more staying power and no stinky perfume ads to fall out in your lap.

And unlike most parental duties, teaching kids to love books isn't hard: Read stories at bedtime, keep lots of good books handy, and wait for the magic. All you need is a library card.

Recently my 6-year-old son, Sam, got suspiciously quiet. I found him in his room, absorbed in a book -- and he stayed there for three hours. Who cares if it was a Simpsons comic book? He has the rest of his life to read Les Miserables or Atlas Shrugged, and he will someday, now that he's hooked. My feet didn't touch the ground for the rest of the day.

4. Create Something. Many simplicity gurus encourage us to shun modern conveniences. TV dinners, instant messaging and pre-packaged everything, they complain, have leached the soul right out of living.

In my humble opinion, though, some of the basics aren't worth getting back to. Sure, the 19th-century family didn't have to worry about changing fuses, irradiated food, identity theft or computer viruses. They wouldn't have had time to, what with all the fire kindling, candle pouring, soap making, flour grinding, butter churning, wood chopping, washboard scrubbing, horse currying and hundreds of other exhausting chores they had.

I once saw a 150-year-old recipe that started, "Butcher a hog and save the head. Saw open the skull lengthwise, then scoop out the brains with" No thanks. I'll frequent my local modern grocery store.

There's something to be said, though, for a tangible legacy. Many jobs in our information-driven economy produce nothing that isn't invisible or abstract. A carpenter can see and touch his work; an actuary, broker or administrative assistant can't.

Neither of us can build furniture, but over the years, Sarah and I have made our own preserves, vanilla, wine,* wrapping paper, bread, candles, pickles, Christmas cards and innumerable other edible or decorative items. Some are much better than anything available in a store; some are much worse. Most make great gifts, but the real reason we do it is that nothing's as satisfying as a home (or stomach) full of good things you've made with your own hands.

Our world makes it too easy to be lifeless entertainment sponges. Creating something -- anything -- lets us be more than mere consumers (Ephesians 4:28).

5. Have Guests -- Lots of Guests. I said earlier that our homes should be sanctuaries against unwanted intrusion. Fort Knox, though, is not quite what I have in mind.

Advertisers, telemarketers, credit companies, e-mail spammers and the like work so hard to worm their way into our lives that they're turning us all into hermits. Personal privacy is one of the biggest concerns on most people's minds and has been for some time.

Opening your home to friends, then, is just that much more meaningful. Whenever Sarah and I start feeling stressed and overwhelmed by life, we invite someone over for dinner. Is it disruptive? Yes. Is it hard to squeeze in guests at a time when we're already overloaded? Usually. Does having company force us to do just that much more cooking and cleaning? Not really (see No. 1).

Paradoxically, the more we entertain, the less stressful life seems. Over the last few years, we've had people over an average of twice a week. We play board games, we talk, we sit in our hot tub and talk some more. When we get up the next morning, there's a big mess waiting for us, but we're so cheerful and relaxed that cleaning up is not the drudgery it usually is. The guests, in other words, make the mess worth it (1 Peter 4:9).

Our methods for de-complicating our lives may or may not work for you, but the biblical principles behind them are simple enough to apply to most any situation.

Notice, though, that we prefer easy, common-sense steps. Many simplification methods are far more complex than the lives they're supposed to be fixing, requiring schedules, self-tests, priority lists and a hundred other tools to further complicate an already overwhelming life. Others, I think, go too far in the other direction, urging moves to the country, career changes, disposal of possessions, and the like.

Not my cup of tea. I save that sort of radical change for my prenatal panic attacks when Sarah's pregnant.

On the contrary -- the smaller the change, the easier to implement and more likely to stick. As I said earlier, you don't have to turn your life upside down; just a small shift of the balance in your favor can make a huge difference.

You can start right now: Put down this magazine and invite someone over for dinner.

Greg Hartman, a lifelong bibliophile, lives in Colorado Springs with his wife, son, a dog, a cat and several thousand books, one of which is a copy of The Messies Manual that he plans to get around to reading any day now.

Is This Progress? Considering that people today are, on average, four-and-a-half times richer than their great-grandparents at the turn of the century and, on average, own twice as many cars and drive 2 1/2 times as far, are people better off today? · Americans spend 40 percent less time with their children today than they did in 1965. · Number of Americans with two or more homes: 10 million. Number of homeless Americans: a minimum of 300,000. · Percentage of college freshmen who think it is essential to be well-off financially: 1967: 44 percent; 1987: 76 percent. · Percentage of college freshmen who think it is essential to develop a philosophy of life: 1967: 83 percent; 1987: 39 percent. · Amount of time the average American will spend watching T.V. commercials: 1 entire year of his or her life. · Year in which the number of shopping centers in the U.S. surpassed the number of high schools: 1987. · Average time spent shopping per week: 6 hours. Time spent playing with children per week: 40 minutes. · Percentage of American workers ages 25-49 who would like to see a return to a simpler society with less emphasis on material wealth: 75 percent. (All-Consuming Passion -- Waking up from the American Dream, © 1993 New Road Map Foundation.)

Overspent Americans Just a few decades ago, Americans compared themselves and their lifestyles with their neighbors -- their own socioeconomic class. Americans have now been convinced by our consumer-oriented society to compare themselves to higher income groups, aspiring to own luxury items once only owned by the wealthy. In striving to reach this ever-changing pinnacle, Americans are becoming dissatisfied, pessimistic and fearful about how they can pay for all the "stuff" that are considered "necessities." Thirty years ago, the American dream was a house with a picket fence, an automatic washing machine, a vacuum cleaner and a car in the driveway. Today, necessities include owning your own home, a second car, at least 3 T.V.'s, microwaves, personal computers, private schools or colleges, restaurant meals, designer clothes and vacations. In spite of the fact that Americans are working more hours per week (average hours of work per week have risen ten percent in the last 25 years), Americans are saving less than ever before. · At a minimum, the average person's spending increased 30 percent between 1979 and 1995. · Sixty-three percent of households earning $50,000 to $100,000 have credit card debt. · In 1995, only 55 percent of all American households saved anything at all the previous year. Most families today live from paycheck to paycheck. · Twenty-seven percent of all households making more than $100,000 a year say they cannot afford to buy everything they need. (The Overspent American: Upscaling, Downshifting, and the New Consumer by Juliet B. Schore © 1998.)

High Tech-over Our Lives E-mail, fax machines, telephones, cell phones and laptop computers -- items that were supposed to free us -- have taken over our lives. · There are over 100 million cell phones in North America and an additional 46,000 people sign up each day. · People send about 10 billion e-mail messages a day. · 59 percent of people check office voice mail after their work day is finished. · 30 percent of people accept work-related faxes at home. · 29 percent of people keep their cell phones on so that they can be reached. A study of the Internet's impact on society by the Stanford Institute for the Quantitative Study of Society at Stanford University stated: · Only four percent of those surveyed said they cut back their hours at the office by using the Internet. · 16 percent said they were working more hours at home without cutting back at the office. · Eight percent increased time spent working at home and at the office. · A quarter of the respondents who use the Internet regularly (more than five hours a week) feel that it has reduced their time with friends and family, or attending events outside the home.

Were They REALLY the Good Old Days? Consider the year 1901: · The average life expectancy in the U.S. was 47. · Only 14 percent of the homes in the U.S. had a bathtub. · Only 8 percent of the homes had a telephone. · There were only 8,000 cars in the U.S. and only 144 miles of paved roads. · The maximum speed limit in most cities was 10 mph. · The average wage in the U.S. was 22 cents an hour. · The average U.S. worker made between $200 and $400 per year. · More than 95 percent of all births in the U.S. took place at home. · Ninety percent of all U.S. physicians had no college education. They attended medical schools, many of which were condemned in the press and by the government as "substandard." · One in ten U.S. adults couldn't read or write. Only six percent of Americans had graduated from high school.   (Resources for Resolving Conflict by Marlin Thomas)

It's Okay to Say "NO" If we had unlimited amounts of time, we could say "yes" to everyone all the time. But we only have 24 hours each day, 7 days a week for a total of 168 hours. In order to manage our time effectively, we have to learn to say "no." Try these: · "I'm sorry. That's not a priority for me right now." · "I can't help you on this now, but I can get to it next week." · "I have so much on my plate now I don't know when I can get to it. But I do know someone over here who can help you now." · "I have made so many commitments to others, it would be unfair to them and you if I took on anything more at this point." · "I don't know how soon I can help you on this, but I will get back to you as soon as I am free to help you." · "Thanks for thinking to ask me, but, no thanks." · "Before I take this over from you, what do you think we ought to do about it?" · "Now that's the type of thing I would love to help you on if only I had the time." · "No." © 2001 "Just Say No" by Donald Wetmore

The Brave New Office Worker of the 21st Century You are working (and living?) in the 21st century when: · You have six passwords, four pin numbers and three key codes, but you can't consistently remember any of them. · You have been sitting at the same desk in the same building for five years -- working for three different companies. · Your supervisor can't do your job, and often doesn't understand exactly what you do. · Your parents tell their friends that your job is "working with computers." · You don't play solitaire with real cards. · You have a list of four different phone numbers and two e-mail addresses to communicate with your spouse. · You find out your company is bankrupt on the 11 o'clock news. · When you call someone from home, you catch yourself inserting a "9" to get an outside line. · You find out that the salaries, benefit packages and golden parachutes of top management exceeds the combined budgets of many third world countries. -- Anonymous

Then and Now Cooking Food: 19th century: A housewife spent four hours per day sifting ashes, adjusting dampers, lighting fires, carrying coal or wood and rubbing the stove with thick black wax to keep it from rusting. 21st century: Turn a switch on an electric or gas stove or program and flip a dial on a microwave. Food Preparation: 19th century: Live poultry was purchased and had to be killed and plucked. Fish had to have scales removed. Coffee had to be roasted and ground, sugar was bought by the loaf and had to be pounded, flour sifted, nuts shelled and raisins seeded. 21st century: Fresh poultry and other meats can be purchased ready for use at local grocery stores, as well as a variety of processed, canned and frozen foods. Americans can choose from over 25,000 supermarket items. Plumbing: 19th century: A typical North Carolina housewife had to carry water from a pump, well or spring eight to ten times each day. Washing, boiling and rinsing a single load of laundry used about 50 gallons of water. Over the course of a year she walked 148 miles toting water and carried over 36 tons of water. 21st century: Turn the handle on the faucet. Laundry: 19th century: The evening before, laundry was soaked in tubs. The following morning, laundry was scrubbed on a rough washboard and rubbed with soap made from lye. Laundry was then placed in vats of boiling water and stirred with a long pole. The clothes were then lifted out of the vats with a washstick, rinsed twice, once in plain water and once with bluing, wrung out by hand and hung out to dry. 21st century: Sort clothes by color, place in automatic washing machine, add soap and turn the knob to start.

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