the nomad diary

With the final pages of 2010 retired to the history books, I’m feeling inclined to consider what may await the human race in the coming years.  In doing so, I get this unsettling feeling that, whatever it is, we’re not entirely ready for it.  A new decade is upon us, and with it will come a continuation of the onslaught  of technological innovation that has long defined our existence on this planet.

We have a tendency to lump human breakthroughs, of which we are certainly in no short supply,  as a single hash in the victory column of our species.  Indeed, we are often right to do so, for it is thanks to our potential for brilliance in problem solving that so many are able to live comfortably and free as they do.

However, I think there is, worthy of consideration, another side to the rapid progress that we have come to prize so highly.  I for one have for many years felt a certain unease born of the relentless hyper-activity of my 21st century existence.  There is a certain momentum which, independent of our own personal choices, rules over our day-to-day lives.  There are times when I want so badly for the world to slow down, to afford me the opportunity to comprehend a single moment in time before it fades unrecognizably into the next.  I want to understand the world for what it is, and for what it has been, but to do so I fear would mean sacrificing my perspective on what is to come.

I get this urge to return, as the cliché goes, to simpler times.  I feel the desire to live in adherence to minimalist principles, to know and understand my environment from a paradigm that long predates the age of global connectedness.  I have this recurring suspicion that everything essential to the human experience lent itself to understanding from the very beginning.  And if I’m right, it stands to reason that much of this modern world may only serve to distract us from the truth that lies at the bottom of it all.

I dream wistfully of abandoning all worldly ties in pursuit some remote corner of the earth where the possibility for one to return to basics still exists in pure form.  But then again, would I dare stay in such a place if I found it?  Is there any amount of faith within me that could warrant my divergence from the normalcy of the common life?  I want to say there is, that I could live as  Thoreau did in his cabin by Walden pond, as McCandless did in his abandoned Alaska  bus, but I just don’t know.  To stray from the common path in search of truth is to accept the risk that we may never find that route to offer the same comfort again.

It seems there are an overabundance of opportunities to move with the machine, as well as a variety that would allow one to make a presumably futile stand against it, but there are very few chances, if any, that offer any sort of distinct separation.  Whether suffocating or liberating, the world of limitless connectivity and technological explosion is all around us, inescapable.  Barring global catastrophe, this truth will only become increasingly evident.

We humans are invested at birth into a collective and ancestral affinity for advancement.  We have boarded a runaway train.  Whether the 21st century propels us towards enlightenment or darkness remains to be seen, but it seems clear now that there is no going back.

I hope that our hard work pays off as the realization of our ultimate ambitions, that the answers we seek as a species will exist in the evolution and initiation of technological feats, but I’m far from convinced.  To say that all advancement is a step in the right direction, regardless of how awe-inspiring a step it may be, is, to me, premature.

Our innate drive to compete with one another has set in motion a relentless global force that may very well come to be disadvantageous to the survival of our species.  I think everyone can feel, to some extent, that there is danger in the creation of something that is both profoundly complex and infinitely greater than the sum of its parts.  Such is the nature of the vehicle of 21st century progression that is so fiercely worshipped world-over.  To suggest the application of restraint against progress itself seems almost anti-human, but it may be time to recognize that we run the risk of one day finding ourselves to be in over out heads.

That we’ve been able to survive and thrive in concert with technological explosion thus far is no guarantee that we will continue to do so in the immediate or distant future.  It may come to be with innovation, as it is with most things in this world, that there is a breaking point to be reached.  If so, I pity those who are alive to experience it.

Readers- My apologies for those of you disappointed by the recently sporadic nature of my blogging.  I still care about you, I promise.  It’s just that winter has assumed an icy grasp over the Korean peninsula, and with it came a certain cognitive inertia that I have long since come to anticipate from the changing of seasons.  My creative juices are more of a creative sludge at the moment, and while this change has been an unsettling one in the past, I now understand my mind well enough to know that this undesirable state shall pass in due time.  The drive to create is, for some, cyclically determined.  Being one of the people whose productivity comes in waves, I have only to wait out the storm.

Thus, I offer no guarantees as to the forthcoming regularity of my posts, but I promise that you will know just as soon as I do when the mental frost finally clears up.

For those of you who, like me, find yourself in a funk, whether intellectually, emotionally, or otherwise, never forget that impermanence is the rule of all things.  Whatever joy or sorrow you are experiencing this holiday season, have faith that it will one day pass to make way for something new.

Today, December 1st, officially marks my 6 month milestone living in Seoul.  

I have found that this experience has managed to induce a paradoxically skewed perception of time.  I can say, on the one hand, that the months have come and departed with unprecedented momentum.  Life in Seoul is so many things, though as anyone who has been lucky enough to reside here can attest, slow is not one of them.    It is, however, no less true to say that Korea, in all of its novel and peculiar glory, has a way of rearranging one’s life so completely that previous circumstances quickly start to seem impossibly distant.    My university years, though concluded only one year ago, are quickly vanishing from my everyday consciousness.  Now that I am taking the time to slow down and take stock of my present scenario, it occurs to me that my graduation and subsequent dedication to the draw of international living did not represent a mere transition from one chapter to the next, but rather the respective climax and commencement of two distinctly different lives. 

This new life of mine is defined  primarily by the veritable onset of adulthood.  Not the “I just turned 18 and moved into my freshman dorm room.  Look how responsible I am!”  brand of pseudo-adulthood, but rather the “I just turned 24 and am now entering a phase that may very well (as I’ve been told) make or break the rest of my life”  variety.  Whether or not the reality of the early 20′s is as gravely crucial as this common perception, I cannot help but sense a certain validity in this “make-or-break” mentality.

I, being of the school who would prefer to “make” it, must now determine the means to reach this desired end.  But how can one reach a goal when it is so ambiguously defined?  What exactly does it mean to “make it”? 

Thanks to the streamlined 21st century system of which I am an individual element, a culturally determined answer to this question has been readily provided- career, socio-economic ladder climbing, mortgage, investment portfolios, marriage, family,  stability, etc.  All these things have their time and place, and no doubt have justifications for being so highly coveted, but there nonetheless something within me that wholly rejects act of accepting conformity.  That this statement comes across as being rather cliché among people my age, speaks, I belive, to its inherent validity.  I know very well what steps are required to become a cog in the machine, but something deep within, some higher faculty, is sensing that an entry into this world would be crippling to my spirit.

Korea has been and will surely continue to be a deeply rewarding experience, though it has not even come close to satisfying my urge to explore.  I wish to discover the meaning of self-reliance, to fully comprehend autonomy in its most exhilarating forms.  I want release from attachment, to things, ideas, and people who only stand in the way of my departure from the dull banality that has seduced and mastered so many souls.  I want, in the perfectly applicable words of Leo Tolstoy, “movement and not a calm course of existence… excitement and danger and the chance to sacrifice myself for love.  (I find) in myself a superabundance of energy which (finds) no outlet in a quiet life.”

I don’t think I know what it means to “make it”, but I sense undeniable value in experiencing firsthand the unfolding of a compelling story.   

 Thus, come June, with a year of living and loving Korea under my belt and ~$10,000 of savings in my bank account, I will seek answers in the one place I know for certain that they exist- the road.  The journey will commence with 5 weeks of mostly solo wandering through Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam.  Then, following a brief(4-6 week) unwinding period at home in Colorado, I will jet south to Guatemala for a most undefined foot, bus, boat, and train voyage through Central/South America.  Where I’ll end up and for how long remains entirely undetermined.  Intimidating as this is, it is, in fact, exactly the point. 

I will head South to test limits, embrace serendipity, and further challenge all that I have come to accepted as truth in this world.  When/if I return, it will not be without a few more pieces of the puzzle in tow.

I’ll never forget the first time.

It was June of 2005, two months prior to my first day of college, when I ran into an old friend at the mall.  She was, in fact, a rather attractive old friend, so I did what I could to turn up the smooth a notch or two.  We exchanged pleasantries, engaged in brief catch-up dialogue, and quizzed each other on the goings on of our lives.  Nothing about the encounter was especially memorable, except that it was the first of countless times I have been asked the following question:

“So, are you on Facebook?”

Wanting desperately to avoid seeming foolish for my ignorance, I racked my mind for some sort of meaning to associate with the apparently foreign “face book” terminology.

“Ummmm, uhhhhhh, errrrrrr, no.  What is it?  A big book of faces?”

Clever, 18-year-old Andy.  Moron.

“Well, no.  It’s this website where you can upload a picture of yourself, add some information, and link up with friends.  It’s cool, you should check it out.  And search for me when you do!”

It was more than enough incentive for me.  I created a profile that same night. 

One picture.  A little background info.  One friend.  A check for updates every other day.  That was it. 

Little did I know, socializing as I knew it would never be the same.

Since that fateful day, my once modest Facebook profile has become a sizeable beast, a testament to the power of the hyper-connectivity movement:  1,700+ pictures, 25 videos, 1,118 friends, 3,000+ wall postings, and hundreds, if not thousands of hours  consumed. 

Though I would probably shudder to know just how many precious moments I have wasted on the various time-sucks the site offers, I must admit that I am truly thankful for my 5 years of social networking.  Aside from being a monumental distraction from all things productive,   I cannot deny that Facebook has made its mark on, and in some ways defined my social existence. 

The truth, as evidenced by my ~4-5 daily log ons, is that I, like so many in my generation, have become hopelessly enthralled with the maintenance of my online persona.  I would like to say that I do not need Facebook, that I would be just fine without it, and that “addiction” is far too heavy a word to be throwing around, but how do I really know?  I need to find out what life is like without it. 

And so, tomorrow evening will mark the commencement of a one month Facebook hiatus. 

In my time away I will carefully monitor any affects, positive or negative, and report them in a December follow-up post.   

Stay tuned…

4:30am, Wednesday- My NE Seoul studio apartment verges on pure black as I lay slumbering my way through the final hours of a moonless night.  The light emitted from street lamps just outside my window faintly creeps through the holes and cracks in my blinds, thus granting an eerie blue tone to the otherwise pervasive darkness.  All is silent.

Then, without warning, my dreams are infiltrated by a familiar sound.  I awake suddenly to the realization that I have heard the welcome chime of my electronic key pad door handle.  I am far too familiar with the noise to mistake it.  Someone is trying to get in.  Or are they?  The front door remains closed for 5, 10, 15 seconds, just long enough for me to blame my imagination for the disruption and readily resume sleeping. 

A few moments pass.  This time it is not my ears, but the feel of a slight breeze moving softly over my face, that betrays a nearly silent intrusion.  I am awoken once again, this time to the silhouette of a person  looming in the shadows opposite my dark wood coffee table, a mere 10 feet from my window adjacent bed.  The eventual adjustment of my eyes to their low light environment afford me the knowledge that I am being faced intently by a girl, small in stature, whose face is mostly shrouded by an uncanny draping of long, dark hair.

Is this real, or am I dreaming?  Where have I seen this person before? 

Then it hits me. 

It’s the terrifying villain from famed horror flic, The Ring.   This means that I am dreaming, what a relief.

The dark figure takes two small steps in my direction, stops, and begins to tremble in a most unsettling fashion, as if each of her joints are preparing to fail simultaneously.

What a bizarre dream.  Everything- the cool night air, the dog barking, the pounding of my heart- it all seems so real. 

I think back to a movie I watched recently that had offered insight into the strange realm of lucid dreaming, in which the dreamer maintains an active an engaged mind despite being overcome by a deep sleep.  I remember one of the side characters discussing ways to determine whether or not you are indeed immersed in a waking dream state.  One such test, I recalled, was to look at the time on a digital clock.  If I really was asleep, as I was certain to be the case, the clock would be a scrambled and unreadable mess.   I reached for my glasses on the window sill, hurriedly put them on, and gazed across the room at my small red alarm clock.

Clear as ever.  I blinked hard, pinched myself, and sat straight up in bed.  This was no dream. 

With the realization of my consciousness came a wave of pure terror, an absolutely unprecedented anxiety, and a heightening of the senses.  With fight or flight mechanisms fully engaged, I stood up and made my way to the light switch.  Nothing is as scary in the light, is it?

Correct. 

The reality then presenting itself was somewhat different from that which my imagination had led me to anticipate.  Standing before me was indeed a very small person, trembling, with her hair flung over her face.  She was not, however, the walking dead soul sucker I had expected her to be, but rather a very drunk and confused Asian girl in her early 20′s. 

Unable to form sentences in Engligh or Korean, the girl offered a hopeless glance and slowly made her way to the closer of my two reading chairs.  Upon sitting down she proceeded to pet my dog, Mr. Lee, for about a minute, then return to her state of wordless disorientation. 

For lack of a better idea, without the slightest knowledge of how to properly handle the situation, I opted to remove an apple from the refrigerator and begin to slice it for her.  It seemed right at the time.  Don’t ask me. 

I watched as my uninvited houseguest methodically consumed two of the pieces I had brought her.  Then, as if retiring for an afternoon nap in her very own living room, she simply leaned back in the chair and went to sleep.  Out like a rock.

No one, regardless of their level of intoxication, enjoys sleeping upright, so I  pushed the two chairs together, front ends facing, thus creating a small bed.  Having paired this arrangement with the necessary drunk sleeper’s accoutrement(blanket, pillow, puke receptacle), I leaned the poor girl on her side and made my way back to bed.

Then, as if the night was short on either creepiness or sleep deprivation, two slow knocks came from my front door.  I made my way to greet what I assumed would be a rescue team of drunk Koreans, only to find a silent and empty hallway.  Yikes.

The drunk girl slept soundly well into the morning.  I, however, was not so fortunate.  It was with frayed nerves and sleepless eyes that I welcomed her back into the world of the sober, and proceeded to attempt an explanation, using exclusively body language and doodling, of how she had come to find herself in a stranger’s apartment. 

With gratitude and embarrassment abound, my new friend stumbled her way back through the door from which she had staged her eery entrance the night before.  I waved a friendly goodbye, made some tea, and took the dog for a walk around the neighborhood.

I’m locking my door from now on.

This week, from the desolate flatlands of northern Chile, comes a testament to the strength of the human spirit.  The world tuned in to see live coverage of the 33 indomitable miners as they emerged, one by one, from the 2300 foot depth they had called home for 69 grueling days. 

With the miners freedom comes a collective sigh of relief from the families, Chileans, and the millions who have followed this story since its commencement in August.  However, the story of these miners is more than just a hash mark in the victory column of humanity, it is a case study from which we can draw important lessons on the nature of our resilience as a  species.

To me, there is one essential question to be asked.  How did these men cope so well throughout this unimaginable ordeal? 

I must confess that I harbored considerable pessimism as this remarkable, potentially tragic, story began to unfold.  With experts predicting a 2-4 month rescue effort, my personal discomfort with confined spaces simply would not allow me to fathom a positive outcome from the situation.  It was, by all accounts, the realization of a miner’s worst nightmare.  My assumption at the time, regrettably grim, was that if the men were to survive, it would not be  without significant psychological trauma. 

That they have lived to tell their story with their sanity seemingly intact is, to me, as fascinating as it is inspiring.

Having reflected at length upon the inaccuracy of my original predictions, I now understand that I  was failing to recognize the power of a single factor: hope.  It was the one thing the men had to hold on to, and it was enough to get them through.  The challenges faced by miners and rescuers alike were certainly great, but never once were they deemed insurmountable. 

If there is one lesson to be taken from this remarkable event, I believe it is that hope is a fundamental ingredient of the perseverance required to overcome the most dire of circumstances.  It is when hope is lost that the psyche begins to crumble.  So long as there was light at the end of the tunnel(has this phrase ever been more appropriate?), the mental health of the miners need not have been questioned. 

In the presence of hope, optimism is sure to follow, and with these weapons on one’s side, even the most daunting troubles are diminished considerably.  However, in the absence of faith in a positive outcome, the human spirit is frail and vulnerable. 

I believe we in 21st century America have much to learn from the 33 Chilean miners.  Whether or not we are willing to come to terms with reality, the fact is that we too  have been trapped.  Just as the miners were separated from their bright futures by a few million tons of earth, we are separated from ours by a myriad of worsening circumstances- joblessness, fuel shortages, obesity, political schisms, failing education, to name a few.  And just as the miner’s mobility was confined by the nature of their surroundings, ours too is determined by our ability/inability to find solutions to the problems both ever-present and looming. 

Our country does not make it easy to maintain optimism, but maintain it we must.  Losing that last glimmer of collective hope that yet remains would surely be a death sentence for America as we know it.  If we are to survive and thrive once again, we need to realign ourselves with a belief in our potential, both as individuals and as a nation. 

Bravo to the 33 Chilean miners for showing us just how robust the human spirit can be.  Let those men be role models as we make our journey back into the light. 

—

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With mid-term elections right around the corner, I find myself  reflecting upon simpler times, when, two years ago, I had my introductory experience as a registered voter.  I, like so many 20-somethings, was eager to show support for Barack Obama, a man I believed whole heartedly would spark revolutionary progress within the federal system.  There may have been something in me that perceived a certain air of overconfidence, yet I considered it an honor nonetheless to stand behind lofty ideals and cast my very first vote in favor of promised change.

Heartfelt patriotism was a sentiment that most from my generation had yet to taste at that time, and I fear that it may be years before we are reunited with it to a similar degree.  The election season of 2008 was a time for college aged people to flaunt their vogue political passions.   It was cool to care, and strong opinions were the trendiest of intellectual accessories.  The dawn of a progressive, forward thinking era was upon us (or so we thought), if only we could do our part at the polls.

Flash forward to the present day and we find that in the wake of our enthusiasm lies a string of unfulfilled guarantees and a broken hearted, if not bitter, legion of once-hopeful, once-active liberals and ex-liberals.  The fire, as it was, that once burned so strongly in the hearts of first-time voters, has been all together smothered by the realization that smooth talk alone does not suffice as a catalyst for widespread change.  As for young conservatives, they too are justified in all apparent disheartenment.  The obstructionist right, much like the spine deficient left, has done very little to garner the support of free thinking citizens.

We young people are a downtrodden bunch.  We were tricked into adopting unrealistic expectations, and are now the quintessential representation of collective learned helplessness.  We set out to fix the machine that would facilitate our bright futures, only to find in our failure that we were not equipped with the proper tools.  We are fighting a more complex and cunning beast than we ever could have imagined.  It is corruption- corporate puppeteers, clandestine power structures, and forces unknown.  It is inefficiency- entrenched partisanship, incessant gridlock, and watered down policy.  It is lack of perspective- undervalued teachers, inflated military budgets, and an unreasonable approach to unemployment.

It is so many things, in so many places, at so many times.  The weight of it all seems unbearable, and it grows heavier with each passing day.  It is impossible to make sense of it all.

It makes us want to give up, throw in the towel, stop caring.

But we can’t.  These troubled times are not for the faint hearted.  If we hope to have the same opportunity to prosper that our parents and grandparents did, we must dedicate ourselves to unprecedented levels of awareness and activism.  We need to relentlessly challenge the unknown, not cower in fear of it.  We need to accept the responsibility to educate ourselves- politically, environmentally, economically, cross-culturally- and forcibly cast away the current era of widespread ignorance.

We must to look beyond the destructive right-left pendulum for answers to the pressing 21st century questions.  Why should it cost millions of dollars to win an election?  Why do we only have two viable candidates to choose from?  Why can’t liberals and conservatives alike unite under an initiative based on the principles of honesty and compromise?  Is the nature of the partisan system really as unchangeable as we have been led to believe?  Have we seen the full potential of grassroots politics, or only scratched the surface?

Perhaps I am today as ignorant and filled with false hope as I was two years ago, but I find myself dreaming of a revolution of reason.  I think the youngest generation of voters longs for a movement it can stand behind; one that will restore the long lost unity between morality and government.  If we seek empowerment in information we will find ourselves in a position to separate politicians into two groups- the honest and the corrupt- at which point we can cleanse ourselves of the latter and explore new ways to empower the former.

Whether or not we realize it, we are the Davids who must rise to the occasion and take down the Goliaths of greed and corruption.   Our government has been bought; it’s high time we take it back.   Believing in the possibility of change is harder than ever these days, but we mustn’t give up hope.  We can still have the future we were promised, and we will, if only we can find the courage, wisdom, and determination to demand it.

—

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Even death is not to be feared by one who has lived wisely- The Buddha

Earlier this week I received word from a close friend that a person very near to his heart, Stacie Farmer, had been in a fatal bicycling accident in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia.  Though I am only lucky enough to have known Stacie as a college acquaintance, I can say with certainty that her time on this earth is undoubtedly worthy of  celebration.  It was clear even from my outsiders perspective that she was one of the rare types who truly understood and applied the values of mindfulness and unfaltering kindness.   I will always remember her as a person who stood out from the crowd in this unique way, who through peace and benevolence left behind an eternal trail of genuine good will.

One aspect of American living for which we should be particularly thankful is that, when compared to lesser privileged countries, tragically premature deaths (I believe Stacie was in her 20′s) tend to be few and far between.  That said, despite the many survival advantages afforded to first world citizens, young people are no exception to the rule of inevitable demise.  I find myself reflecting on the handful of friends I have had to say an early farewell to over the years.  When considering these individuals, Stacie Farmer included, it strikes me that the deaths of young people are exceptionally difficult for two reasons.  First, they are rarely anticipated, and thus add an element of unforgiving abruptness to the already crippling nature of loss.  Second, in their place young people leave behind a void of unfulfilled potential, a permanent question mark in the place of all that could have been.

For these reasons it is particularly hard to make sense of or accept the premature loss of human life.  Yet we must remember that it is not among death’s intentions to be “made sense of”.  It is as free and unpredictable as chaos itself, and it’s hand will surely touch each of us in due time.

We like to assume that we have many more years of fruitful life to look forward to.  We have so many plans, goals, and aspirations, experiences remaining to be had, that the idea of an early end is deemed entirely unacceptable and thus extracted from our daily thought process.  That is, until losses arise that serve to dissolve our illusions and remind us of our unavoidable and potentially imminent mortality.

In mourning the passing of friends and loved ones I think it is essential to honor their lives by realigning oneself with a realistic outlook of time as a limited resource.  The fact is, your life could come to an end today.  This understanding should not be the cultivator of fear or timidity, but of a realization that our time remaining may be less plentiful than we like to assume.  Let it serve as a reminder to squeeze every last drop out of our human experience while we still have the chance.

Do the things you’ve always wanted to do.  Let people know exactly what they mean to you.   Take risks.  Explore.  Quit anything that makes you feel unhappy or empty.    Have fresh experiences.  Redefine your limits.  Expand your horizons.  Challenge yourself.  Respect your potential.  Never settle.

In this moment you have the chance to live courageously, seek adventure, right any wrong, and love people in the way you have always wanted to.  Only in this  very second is this gift guaranteed.  The future is, and will forever be, uncertain.  The best way to respect those you have loved and lost is by invigorating your drive to live beautifully.

Friends, let’s live.  There isn’t a second to be wasted.

Rest in peace Stacie Farmer…

Contentment is natural wealth; luxury, artificial poverty. -Socrates

A few weeks ago I found myself in a state of discontent over the disagreeable military-esque mattress in my apartment.  I didn’t want to be overly particular, but compared to the relative luxury I had grown accustomed to back home in Colorado, my new Korean set-up felt more like a slab of granite than any reasonable concept of a proper sleeping surface.  Even so, I was getting every bit as much quality sleep as I had in the past, yet I still found myself longing for a mattress to rival the comfort I was used to.  I knew that rectifying action was needed.

Had it been one of my former hedonistic selves facing this dilemma, my chosen solution would surely have been to spend money on a costly mattress pad, which, taken at face value logic, would have been a perfectly reasonable decision. Satisfaction is, after all, the natural result of met expectations. 

However, due to a recent conservative shift in my consumer mindset, I felt deeply inclined to discover a more cost effective option. At this point it occurred to me that, in order to achieve a favorable outcome, one of two things had to happen- either my circumstances needed to be raised to meet my expectations, or my expectations needed to be lowered to meet my circumstances.  And so, determined not to spend a single penny, I opted for the latter.  Instead of purchasing a pad, I vowed to gain perspective by spending seven nights on the cold, hard floor.

In the groggy mornings to follow the first three restless nights, I found myself harshly judging the sacrifice heavy methodology I had chosen.  My body ached, I was tired for work, and my mood was sour.  The pleasure seeking voice within was reprimanding my actions- “Quit being ridiculous; you are going about this all wrong. Go buy a mattress pad. Why suffer when you don’t have to?”  Despite the readily apparent appeal of this argument, I chose to carry on.  Why should I not successfully sleep on the floor?  After all, have not billions of people managed to do just the same, night after night, throughout their entire lives?  Am I so reliant on 21st century comforts that I could not join their ranks, if only for seven short nights?  One thing was clear- I owed it to my curiosity to see it through.

Then, having come to terms with my circumstances as being temporarily unchangeable, something peculiar happened- I adapted.  An immediate shift took place, such that, despite seemingly unfavorable conditions, I had no problem enjoying eight hours of deep, restful slumber.  Absent was the longing for improvement, in its place a sense satisfaction born of a small victory over the vice of materialistic attachment.  Restful nights, I learned, are not only derived from material luxuries, as is commonly assumed, but also from the acceptance one feels when they recognize how wholly unnecessary these frivolities truly are. 

My eventual return to the previously unsatisfactory sleeping arrangement was largely anti-climatic.  Contrary to my prediction, it wasn’t as if the contrast provided by the floor had granted the mattress some newfound quality of comfort.  In truth, it felt no different than it had before, but that didn’t matter.  I learned that it was my mindset, not the mattress, which needed to change.

—

We in the West have been spoiled to the core by our affluence.  Such is the effect of excess wealth (wealth beyond the realm of basic need fulfillment), that it inevitably results in a one-sided, often skewed approach to need fulfillment.  We assume that the only path to satisfaction is through the accumulation of newer, more complex, and often more expensive goods.  What we continually fail to realize is that the enjoyment gained from these so-called improvements is remarkably short lived.  Blind to our ignorance, we expend precious time and energy working mindless jobs so that we can afford to make unnecessary purchases and thus feed our raging addiction to excessive spending.

I decided to share the outcome of my mattress situation with you, because I think it represents one practical solution to our ever present over-consumption issue.  The simple method, which I believe is widely applicable, is as follows-

The next time you feel the need to spend money on an upgrade, see first how it feels to downgrade or eliminate entirely. If, following this period of self-inflicted sacrifice, you still deem it necessary to make the purchase, feel free to do so with a clear conscience.

If you are able to withstand the initial period of doubt and discomfort, my prediction is that you will inevitably experience any combination of the following advantages-

1. Gained perspective- Scaling back our desire for a luxurious lifestyle helps us to realize how little of what we demand is actually needed to survive and thrive.  Human beings have been living successfully for thousands of years on a fraction of the material wealth we enjoy today.  There is no reason that we in the 21st century should be any different.

2. Money saved- This one is obvious.  Upgrades cost money; without them, you save.  How much money you wish to keep in your pocket is entirely up to you.  There is no reason why anyone starting their 20’s right now should ever have to feel the strain of economic hardship.

3. Increased satisfaction (without spending money)- Affluence has a way of causing us to under-value our present circumstances.  When thoughts of excess luxury pervade our minds, we lose the humble appreciation which is entirely prerequisite to sustainable contentedness.  Temporary downgrades help us to regain this perspective.

4. A better understanding of needs vs. wants- In a world where the line between necessary and superfluous has become impossibly blurred, this method is a sure way to properly differentiate between needs and wants.

5. Freedom- When the nagging desire for improvement is given a rest, we are left with more of the resources we need to engage in truly worthwhile pursuits.  We are free to live our lives in a more meaningful way.

So, the next time you find yourself being sucked into the never ending cycle of increased materialistic expectations, do yourself the ultimate favor. Replace your drive to consume with a will to engage in  sacrifice. It’s simple, it’s beautiful, and if the global economic outlook is as bleak as many experts say, it may very well be the key to a new brand of 21st century well-being.

If you are a regular reader you already know that I have recently taken an interest in discovering the many unique and unusual ways that intriguing individuals choose to spend their time.  My desire to unearth these practices stems from a firm belief that the majority of human beings (myself included) are often shamefully wasteful of their temporal resources.  We explicitly recognize that our remaining hours on this earth are incessantly dwindling, yet somehow we justify devoting the bulk of our lives to meaningless, unfulfilling, and even counterproductive endeavors.  My focus, therefore, has been to explore the many ways remarkable people combat this trend and make the most of their precious moments.

To satisfy my curiosity, I polled a few handfuls of the most interesting people I have had the pleasure of knowing over the years.  This effort, as expected, resulted in a compilation of compelling responses.  Among the many valuable ideas came one in particular that got me thinking.  M.S. writes-

“Read aloud to somebody.

I did this with my parents and it was one of our most lovely family bonding experiences ever.  Last spring, I read this book, Excerpts from a Family Medical Dictionary (Rebecca Brown), and was so changed by it that I wanted anyone and everyone I know to read it. My parents never read anything I recommend, partly because of the language barrier–speaking English day-to-day and reading English lit are two different ballgames–and I wanted so badly for them to actually read this one that I began reading the first chapter to them aloud in order for them to get a taste and hopefully be compelled to read it. I ended up reading them the entire book in one sitting. By the end, my parents were crying (which, for my dad, textbook austere Polish man, is pretty incredible). Afterward, they both hugged and kissed me and thanked me profusely for giving them such a wonderful “gift.” They’ve brought this night up at least 3 times since, saying how much they treasure that memory and how meaningful the experience was.”

I’m not sure about you, but I found M.S.’s account of this experience to be touching, thoroughly refreshing, and extremely thought-provoking.

We currently find ourselves amidst a cultural shift where, as a result of our paramount obsession with television entertainment and other such forms of passive media, our idea of social togetherness has adopted an ironically anti-social approach.  It seems to me that people today are sacrificing their natural desire to engage in quality face to face human interaction for much easier, albeit somewhat artificial, means of fulfilling their needs as social beings.  Even when we are together, are we actually together?  Is sitting down in front of a television with a few of your friends or loved ones really that much different from doing so all by yourself?  What is the point of being in each other’s presence physically, if, as soon as we are, we surrender our hearts and  minds to a plastic box?

Many social commentators have adopted an interest in what many see as a breakdown of family and social values in Western society.  In my opinion, this is an issue more black and white than most.  We live in a world so overrun by technological distractions, that we no longer have the time or interest to truly understand, learn from, or relate to the people with whom we have direct contact.  We dedicate our attention so fully to feeding obsessions with undeserving icons that we unknowingly lose touch with our closest friends.  We religiously entrench ourselves in the world of social media, meanwhile neglecting the very real relationships that are suffering all around us.

Perhaps I am being too dramatic, but I really don’t think so.  Please understand,I do not  intend to come across as a technophobe.  I will, in fact, be among the first to recognize that certain budding inventions are making it easier than ever to stay in touch with loved ones(Skype, for example),  but I also have to wonder if there isn’t a high price to be paid for our tireless devotion to entertainment and communication based technological innovation.  Cell phones, social networking sites, e-mail, and the like- each of these things are promoted for their abilities to maintain and strengthen our social lives.  Buying into the value of hyper-connectedness, we spend countless hours making calls, writing text messages, responding to e-mails, browsing status updates, updating our own status, etc.  What remains of our time is eaten up by certain other distractions, such as television, which offer very little in the way of interpersonal value.

The NY Times recently reported that the average American spends 8 hours per day in front of a screen(computer, TV, PDA, or other).  If you consider yourself to be a reasonable person and a concerned citizen, my guess is that this statistic gives you a very uneasy feeling.   I probably don’t need to point this out to you, but eight hours is a very long time.  One cannot help but wonder, to what did we dedicate these eight hours 25, 50, or 100 years ago?  Were billions of bored and listless people just sitting around waiting for the internet to be invented?  Clearly not, so what were they doing with this time?

My guess is that they spent much of it having face to face conversations with fellow human beings, enriching their relationships, learning, and engaging in traditions, such as family dinners, that currently seem to be falling by the wayside.  With their extra time our ancestors were pursuing the socially advantageous activities that are required to maintain healthy families and form deep, lasting interpersonal connections.  They were doing all that we have forgotten to do today, the things that have since been devalued in Western society.  And now, in these morally uncertain times, it may very well be the lack of these institutions that is driving our integrity as a society and collective values into the ground.

If we wish to re-adopt to the advantageous aspects of our history as social beings, we must realign ourselves with certain ancestral traditions.  We must return, at least in part, to simpler times.

Re-enter M.S.  Here is a person who, despite any number of available passive entertainment options, decided to take the more organic route and read a book aloud to her parents.  In doing so, she created a memory that will undoubtedly be cherished for many years to come.  By any modern measure, this was an uncommon way to seek family entertainment.  However, historically speaking, M’s chosen means to facilitate togetherness  was not the least bit unconventional.

As a species, we spent the first 99.9% of our existence devoid of electronic gadgets, TV’s, and computers.  Now that the prevalence of such items is surging, so too are the rates of depression, anxiety, and broken families.  Does the advent of emerging entertainment technology improve our well-being, as it claims to, or does it in effect distract us from the fulfillment of our primordial needs as social beings?

Whatever the case, it will be unfortunate if the frenetic nature of 21st century advancement manages to engulf the inherent value of the old ways.  If the progress of human beings continues to follow its current course, I fear that we will be straying increasingly farther from the answers we are meant to seek.  I promise you, we don’t need our 8 hours in front screens to enjoy a high quality existence.  I have argued vehemently that all we really need in this life has existed in pure form since the beginning.  In fact, in a world of constant change, this may be the one and only fact we can rely on.

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