Lessons from the Cove

Monday, July 24, 2006

Lessons from the Cove Current mood: pleased It's not hard to imagine a life here. Without electricity, without running water. With few neighbors and little contact outside of the cove. I can imagine growing up here, free to roam the fields and forest as you please. Helping with chores and playing with siblings and cousins, making up things to do because there is no electric box around to entertain a passive mind. I'm sure it was a hard life, lonely and dangerous. But it was a life steeped in beauty, rooted to the Earth (gee that sounds so cliche but I mean it), and full of purpose. A life connected to the land around you and the people you depended on. I am sure my rose-tinted glasses make it all seem much more wonderful than it felt at the time (as I have mentioned before, I'm not sure I'd relish laundry without a washer and dryer, for instance), but I do think there is so much to be learned in that way of life that we are missing in today's world. It would be nice to have your cake and eat it too, to live those experiences without the danger, the loneliness, the gossip or the stifling feeling it can instill. But of course it is precisely some of these things that help build character and self-reliance, the creativity and a sense of belonging. Without the hardships, many of the rewards are lost. I guess the best thing to do is to try and recreate the best aspects of that life, discarding the isolation and some of the physical hardships. Become connected to the land. Wherever you are, it's possible, and in addition I think it's important to wander wilder landscapes as well. Teach yourself and our children about the Earth, about self-reliance (practical in any environment) and responsibility (to oneself and to the universe, in the sense that making your own small sphere of influence ring true will help sound echoes of harmony in the wider world). Stay connected, stay purposeful. Try to discard the distractions, if you dare (I'm not sure I do. . .) Let the children be bored sometimes. Force them to be creative. Little things regain their meaning. Let them contribute to their world; help them be useful and productive. Give them unstructured time and help them accomplish what they want to do with that time, if they need help. (Today we do not have the skills that used to be commonplace. Could you go make a working kite right now? Would you know how to fish? Do you remember jump rope games? Do you know how to build a raft? And the most important question for you today: Do you know how to learn?) I don't think these are just idyllic, outdated pasttimes. I think they hold real value, true lessons that can not be found at Toy R Us or even on the neighborhood block anymore. And I think adults today would benefit just as much (often more) from returning to these pursuits than our kids will. Try it. I hope I remember to.