The Lure of a Simpler Life

If someone offered you a simpler life, would you take it? I did once. It was just before the birth of my son and I was working as a reporter for a daily newspaper in the U.S. Virgin Islands. The hours were unpredictable and the work was frustrating at best (covering territorial politics is a special kind of hell). In short, it was not the recipe for a happy household when there’s a newborn in the mix. So when a friend of mine offered me a part-time gig working on his farm, I thought, “why not?” For 10 hours a day, three days a week, I cleared brush, raked hay, and flipped compost. I waged an interminable war against Caribbean weeds and chased mongooses out of the chicken coop. It was hard work, of course, and I was bitten by a whole menagerie of tropical creatures, but these days I find myself missing it more and more. Life was so straightforward then. When I was at work, I worked. When I was at home, I raised my son. I was free from the looming menace of deadlines and the nagging fear of missing an email. I picked up my labor in the morning and put it down in the evening, and at night I enjoyed the honest sleep of an exhausted man.

Having since returned to New England and writing, I’ve found my experience on the farm has given me a new appreciation for the Shakers. Not just because they held simplicity as a sacred virtue—evident in everything from their architecture to their lifestyle—but more so because they seem to have mastered the elusive art of setting boundaries. The truly remarkable thing about the Shakers is that, unlike the Amish and other Utopian groups, they did not shun the outside world. They embraced technology and traveled freely outside of their communes. Through their various industries, they interacted with their neighbors on a daily basis. The temptations of a normal life were always near at hand, and yet somehow they persisted. Somehow they managed to avoid being swept away in the relentless current of the mainstream. They kept the pressures of the outside world at bay and found the freedom to live the lives they wanted to live. I wish I could tell you how they did it. It’s a bit of wisdom I think we could all use today, in our mercilessly connected world where multitasking is the norm and the 40 hour work week is little more than a quaint suggestion. I don’t regret returning to my career, but that time in the fields has made me aware of what I’ve lost. When I’m at home with my son, now a rough-and-tumble one-year-old, I find my mind drifting off to story ideas and my eyes darting to the laptop. Like many people, work has become an unwelcome tenant in my home, and I’m not sure what to do about it. I selected this photo taken in 1907 by Massachusetts native John Tarbell (1849-1929) to share this week because it so perfectly captures the peaceful ideal of Shaker life. The note attached to the photo offers little detail about who this woman is or where she lived. It only tells us that she is preparing to make applesauce. The look of quiet concentration on her face and the delicate way in which she is inspecting the first fruit suggests to the viewer that her mind is entirely consumed by the task in front of her. She is about to begin a chore she has undoubtedly done a thousand times before, but there is no hint of boredom, just a sense that she is committed to doing her job well. The scene is a perfect embodiment of the classic Shaker hymn, “’Tis the gift to be simple, ‘tis the gift to be free. ‘Tis the gift to come down right where we aught to be.” So how about it readers? If someone offered you a simpler life, would you take it? If there was just one thing you could take off your plate, one thing you didn’t have to worry about anymore, what would it be?