Alrighty folks... I alluded to this a lot in the last post, and I think it's time we talk about something that comes up surprisingly often: time management.
Amusingly (given the topic), I have too much to say on this for a single post, so this is just Part 1 where I explain the problem. I'll do Part 2 shortly and talk about solutions and mitigations.
One of the most common questions I get when people hear I'm building a homestead is some flavor of "but what are you going to do without electricity?" or "aren't you going to miss __________?". I think that this belies a really interesting problem in how people think about sustainability and self-reliance.
So I want to talk about the Amish for a moment.
Shut up, it's my blog.
Most people think that the Amish reject all modern technology, which is completely incorrect. The Amish are, generally speaking, excellent machinists and mechanics, and most Amish communities have a "telco shack" of their own where they keep cell phones, tablets, and other communications devices.
The biggest difference between the Amish and most people reading this blog is that the Amish look at any new technological development with suspicion. Their default position is "this is probably bad for my community" and then the new technology has to prove it's not. Compare this to the general attitude of society at large which says "new is better!"
Think of how many products you see advertised where "new" is a key reason you should buy it. We tend to assume that new technologies are awesome, and then people who push back against that are asked to provide the burden of proof.
The Amish aren't Luddites, they're skeptics. That's why they have cell phones--being able to communicate with loved ones or call for help is fantastic--but keep them in a phone booth, out of the home and out of their pockets. That's why they have electric lights, but they keep them in the machine shop--you want good light when you're fixing a diesel engine, but in the home, there's nothing wrong with a more natural circadian rhythm that sends you to bed when you run out of light.
That's a lot of text, so here's a really cute pupper from our last hike:
Ok, so that's a lot of words to say something simple: choosing to live more deliberately, and choosing to opt out of some modern systems doesn't mean you need to opt out of all of them.
You know what's amazing? Not spending your whole fuckin' day just working up the willpower to get your ass out of bed.
I want to walk you through a very real scenario that happens to folks who try and do this. I say this both from experience and from knowing others in the same boat.
First, you start off with lots of energy and drive. You feel like you're doing well, and you make lots of progress quickly--you're out chopping wood and clearing brush, and your camp starts to look less like "camp" and more like "home". You work long days--up just after dawn, brush your teeth, throw on your work clothes, and get crackin'. If there's two of you doing this as a couple, likely one of you will get to work first thing in the morning while the other starts making coffee, maybe frying up a couple eggs or making pancakes.
This lasts maybe as long as a couple of months. But every day gets a little harder and a little slower. The mornings are cold, and your back is sore from yesterday's work. Yesterday, your back was still sore from the day before that. Your fingers are dry and chapped from being exposed to the elements all day, and you keep adding more little cuts here and there... your shins are especially rough. Even though you wear pants, it seems like you're constantly finding new little sharp plants you didn't know were so damn common. Why the hell do so many plants have thorns anyway? Did you choose to put up your camp in the middle of some kind of fuckin' thorn farm?
What ends up happening is that eventually you reach a point where your day looks like this:
6:30am - The sun comes up, the dogs rustle, the birds chirp, the humans go back to sleep
9:30am - The sun has been up for hours, one of the dogs wants to go outside, the humans slowly start moving, pondering the work ahead of them
10:00am - The dogs all want to go out now, so it's time to finally get up. One of you does. Maybe today it's you, because your partner got up first yesterday. Maybe it's your turn to stay warm.
10:30am - It's time to find clothes and socks--do we still have clean socks? Are my shoes dry yet?
11:00am - The humans are finally dressed, now it's time to start on coffee. Somebody has to go outside and get some water, somebody needs to clean the French press. Are we going to have breakfast today, or are we just going to get to work? You don't even ask the question out loud--you both know the answer is coffee.
12:00am - The coffee cups are finally empty, the French press only has a cup left but your bellies are full because you haven't been eating breakfast lately, so the coffee feels like a full meal. It's fine, you have to clean the stupid thing again tomorrow morning anyway, so who cares if you leave a cup in the bottom? Time to work up the energy to go outside and get some work done
12:30pm - You finally get outside and get to work. Despite the slow start to the morning, this part is still fun. The sun is bright and shiny, life is awesome, and the puppies are adorable as they lounge in the sun, watching you haul something or other heavy and cumbersome around.
2:30pm - You're starting to get hungry, and you're thinking about what you're going to make for dinner
4:00pm - Time to start on dinner. You both need to stop choring for the day because one of you needs to clean up the camp while the other gets cracking on food. You need to do dishes before you can cook, so somebody's gotta go boil water again...
6:30pm - The sun is starting to go down, you can't get anything else done for the day, and food's just about ready. Time to settle in and enjoy yourselves for the evening.
8:00pm - Sure, it's early, but you're pooped. This was a long day, wasn't it? Time for bed.
Yes, I'm aware that sounds like a clinical depression diagnosis. What, did you think that trying to survive off your own skills and wits in the woods would be uplifting and fulfilling every minute of the day? I mean, it is uplifting and fulfilling on the whole, but nature is hard. Everything is hard when you're doing it yourself. Everything you have to do is harder today than it was yesterday, and it's going to be harder tomorrow than it is today.
That "hypothetical" day above (really it's anecdotal) feels like it lasts 14 hours, but you only get a few hours of work done. Those few hours aren't even pushing yourself that hard--you just don't have the gas left in your tank for that kind of push.
Next thing you know, you're telling yourself "I've adjusted to this lifestyle, this is just how things are out here!", but all your projects are falling behind, and you're not keeping up with your basic needs.
Alrighty, now I know that might sound a bit sad, so here's something fun and natural to tide you over till Part 2: ever seen a coyote close-up?
Cute little guy, isn't he?
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