Voluntary Complexity

Yup, I did it. Although I nominally believe in voluntary simplicity, I'd gotten caught up in complexity again. I'd become over-committed. My involvements all were worthwhile, mind you. It's just that there were too many of them.

At three o'clock this morning, I woke up feeling anxious about my To Do list, which I knew had spun out of control. I resolved then and there to cancel something I'd planned this coming weekend. It had promised to be so much fun. But the enjoyment dissipates pretty quickly when I feel overwhelmed. So I felt relieved as soon as I'd made the decision to drop an arrangement that felt unsustainable to me.

In considering what happened in the wee hours of this morning, I recall an occasion on which I had struck up a conversation with a Jewish family in my neighbourhood, back when I lived in Calgary.

It was pretty obvious that they were Jewish. There was a Conservative synagogue not far from my home, and it was fairly common to see people walking towards it in business attire on a Saturday morning, when most other people were in jeans and runners. Another give-away was that the father of the family was wearing a yarmulke (skullcap).

As we found ourselves walking in the same direction, we first commented on what lovely weather we were having. But, after a couple of minutes of superficial chit chat, I asked them about the rule that forbade them from driving on the Sabbath. They explained that there was a prohibition against initiating anything on the Sabbath. At least that's my recollection of what they said.

They went on to share with me some of the implications, over and above the fact that they didn't drive on the Sabbath. They said they also unplugged their phones and computers. The parents said that, with two teenagers in the house, it was bliss to have the phone unplugged for twenty four hours out of every week.

I have just stopped to consider how close my lifestyle is to the Conservative Jewish one. I don't have a car so, when I'm home on my Sabbath, which is Sunday, I don't drive. So far so good.

But I go away on weekends quite often. When that happens, I invariably catch buses or trains or carpool.

Even if I'm home without a car, I use my computer a lot. That's it. My computer. It's my biggest tie to complexity.

I wondered if I could be "Jewish" (in the sense being discussed here) for one day a week. No way. Not with the kinds of commitments I've made.

But how about being "Jewish" for one day a month? Yes, I believe that's feasible. Actually, I think it would be rather fun. I'm going to give it a try this coming Sunday.

Getting back into synch

The frenzy of Christmas used to bother me. I found it stressful. That was until I to some extent unplugged the Christmas machine, or at least tamed it to a tolerable level.

Some years ago a book about mythology explained to me why the North American Christmas is over the top.

Apparently winter used to be a quiet time in Northern Europe. The long hours of darkness and the cold weather naturally lent themselves to a more restful period. According to the book about mythology, that was reflected in the winter holidays of the Norse people.

The Romans, on the other hand, were just the opposite. They commemorated the dedication of the temple of the god Saturn on December 17th. They called the holiday Saturnalia, and it evolved into a playful week-long celebration that had much in common with the North American Christmas of today. There were school vacations, feasts, exchanges of gifts, pranks, etc.

When one considers that Southern Europe has a milder winter than Northern Europe, one can understand why the Romans were less constrained by the weather than the Norse people were.

It seems to me that cheap energy in the second half of the twentieth century allowed us North Americans to override the climate in which we lived. If we still were hunter-gatherers or even farmers, we in Canada and the Northern Tier states of the USA would be forced to celebrate a much quieter Christmas. Even my mother, who grew up in Hungary before and during the Second World War, reports that it was a big deal to find a fresh orange in her Christmas stocking.

When I started simplifying my Christmas celebrations some years ago, I did not retreat into a cave. Certainly I do enjoy having Christmas Dinner with family and friends. I also enjoy buying gifts for a very few close family members and friends. (I generally buy gifts way ahead of time, in order to keep December as stress-free as possible.) Now that I'm trying to be even more eco-friendly than before, I probably will make many of my Christmas gifts in future.

This year the unusual weather on Vancouver Island forced many of us to simplify even more than we might have wanted to do. If Peak Oil comes to pass, I wonder what Christmas (and the rest of our lives) will look like. I suspect there is the potential for Voluntary Simplicity to turn into Involuntary Simplicity.

Be that as it may, I like to relax during these days between Christmas and New Year. I like to feel the rhythm of winter.

Last night I played some haunting Celtic music that my son in Calgary had told me about by e-mail that afternoon. I turned off all the lights in my townhouse, lit a single tea light, turned the volume of the music down low, sank into the couch, and felt my body melting into the supportive atmosphere.

This morning I feel refreshed and ever so grateful to have had the chance to chill out.