ONE – Legacy might not really be the proper term as it will likely conjure up thoughts of Kennedies and nepotism. My thoughts have been more along the lines of passing along a family business or craft. Your grandfather was a carpenter, your father was a carpenter now you’re a carpenter.

TWO — On family culture, why is it frowned upon here in the US for children to live with their parents beyond college age? This is not the case in so many other cultures, even other cultures within America’s geographical bounds. Is this sentiment related to our nation’s individualistic streak? Is it related to industrialism or economic wealth?

These have been on my mind for two obvious reasons. One, my dad finally fulfilled his entrepreneurial spirit by opening a store of his own roughly four years ago. Two, I moved back in with my parents two years ago — out of necessity — after I had already owned my own home and after I was 30 years old.

The more I’ve thought about it, the more I like the idea of a family business, something that is still a part of our culture, though perhaps not as much as it should be. Further, the less I like the stigma attached to families living under the same roof, children with their parents.

More thought is needed on these subjects. Feel free to add your own two cents

If you feel, somehow, that you’re a slacker if you’re not writing six to eight hours a day, and that if you only had more willpower, you could just do it, science says you’re wrong.

As she points out in her post, writing is a creative act that is filled with countless decisions. Other crafts are not quite the same in this regard as they are made up of time consuming handiwork where decisions on the way to a finished product are not continuously required, but the same principle applies.

What Sara’s post and attendant article reminded me of again is the way in which our culture as a whole — in both work and [supposed] leisure — with its pace, its impatience, its demand for immediate answers (decisions) dehumanizes us. I read again this week a quote from Kathleen Norris, talking about her move from New York City to the rural prairie, where she says “I have learned to trust the processes that take time, to value change that is not sudden or ill-considered but grows out of the ground of experience.”

Much of American culture has no use for human limitations, the limits of time. We want things now-now-now. We expect the economy to grow-grow-grow infinitely, at an exponential pace. It dehumanizes in many ways.

How do we change the culture so that we can be ourselves again?

Local production for local consumption is a policy enabling the flow of an extensive variety of goods and services created by and sustaining the very community that makes them.

Mass production makes for very little local color. Everywhere, America ends up looking the same. Local culture looks like the variety of goods and service created by the locals. A Grand Island, Nebraska craftsman might use a different lumber, different joinery and different finish — in response to the land and weather around him – than one in Tennesee. Objects coming out of a factory respond to one thing by comparison: Market potential.

Haven’t we been here before, Rocky?

A CNN article looks at how we’re constantly drawn to the interwebs but need time to process. The constant stimulation of the internet, the ease with which we reach for our laptop or iPad or Blackberry, actually reduces the amount of gray matter (the thinking part) in our brains according to one study. Yet we’re drawn to the constant stimulation, the instant gratification of the Twitter Stream, Facebook News Feed, our email and instant messaging.

The CNN article offers some obvious responses to this addiction — yes, it does call it an addiction. It also suggests staring out the window, which I imagine is a bit less obvious to most Americans.

I’ve always enjoyed staring out the window. I loved having a 9th floor dorm room in college the looked over the entire campus. I would watch the sun set, people stream into the stadium for a football game or simply stare out into the dark before going to bed. I do the same thing, though to an unfortunately lesser degree, out of my home. Recently my wife, who has been increasingly cultivating her creativity over the past few years, admitted she didn’t used to understand why I did this, but from a creative point of view it’s making more and more sense to her.

It’s tough for us Americans to let our minds rest, or let ourselves think freely, uninterrupted. Even without the allure of the internet we’re a go-go culture that has a hard time being still — physically or mentally — for any length of time. I’ve never forgotten eating lunch with a PHD student in philosophy as a college student. We were talking about art and theology, and multiple times during the conversation he said simply “I have to think about that some more.” The phrase and idea with it stood out to me. That just wasn’t something I’d heard an American say before (Generally we have our opinions and don’t hesitate to blurt them out, no matter how well-formed or informed they may be.).

We need time to process. “The greatest thinkers in history certainly knew the value of shifting the mind into low gear.” unHurry yourself.

I’ve never known someone to do a full 10-hour day of moving and be depressed. You have a very clear, tangible sense of what you’ve accomplished. You took one apartment full of stuff and emptied it. And then you filled a new one and helped people start a new chapter in their life.

One of the frustrations I’ve discovered working office jobs the past eight years is that I often don’t have a real sense of accomplishment at the end of the day. I may have had my hands in 10 different projects in one day at the office, but when the clock strikes 5pm I often can’t tell you exactly what kind of progress was made — which might actually be in part because I was working on so many different things according to recent research (multi-tasking is actually bad for your brain). I wasn’t expecting this coming out of college, planning to work as a graphic designer.

Of course, this isn’t to say that the work done in an office isn’t necessary, or that there is never a sense of accomplishment working behind a desk opposed to in a wood shop or on a farm. There are times in an office where you’re working on one project for an extended period of time (within the same day) and can better articulate what you got done on this particular Monday. And I actually love planning meetings where we expand on an organization’s vision. However, paperwork and phone calls just aren’t measurable in the obvious way that, say, painting a house is. When I work with my hands, progress is obvious. “We primed that house today, all six rooms.”

Hat Tip to WordLily for the Washington Post story.

In the scheme of the developing western United States, the challenges small towns face now look a little different. The rails have already been laid for the most part, trucks allow people to live in remote places without growing all of their own food. The internet allows people in rural America the option of living with the same luxuries, if they have the money, as the people in large cities.

Small town America as a charity case
Last week, Damaris at the Internet Monk suggested the church in America make small towns a new mission field. She lives in a small town that just lost its grocery store. The owner retired and there was no around to replace him. “Where are the wealthy churches willing to back a small business operator in a rural area as their mission project? . . . running a doctor’s office or grocery store in rural America isn’t typically considered missions by many Christians. But if caring for people’s daily needs is a means of mission work in Burkina Faso, why not here?” That in itself is an interesting question, but it’s not the question that really prompted this article.

In the comments following Damaris’ appeal, a few people began to question the validity of saving small towns in the first place, let alone with church monies. Some people were suggesting we should, perhaps, just let them die — maybe even help them close up shop.

Should a small town try and be revived, or should it die?

Life in a small town — and by small here I’m thinking 2,500 people at the very most — wasn’t something I ever really wanted in life. My idealized space was always the countryside outside of a large city or the actual core of the city. Living in Siloam Springs, Arkansas for more than six years (not exactly small by rural standards at 14,000 people, but half the size of anywhere else I’d lived at that point) probably opened the idea up to my subconscious. Giving serious consideration to Hazelton, Kansas was the first active step in my considering life in a small town, very small. The past month I’ve been pondering a property for the arts center in the even smaller Kansas community of Ada, which appears to be made up of all of 8 named streets.

Who makes the call?
If we say that we think small towns should die, who makes the call? How small is too small? Do some small towns have cultural value that gives them precedence over their peers that might not have a museum or small college?

The debate over the value of rural America is actually already underway. A few weeks ago I heard a news bit about whether or not road maintenance in some of the more the rural parts of Nebraska should continue to be funded, or simply be forgotten at the state level. Fuel taxes are among the highest in the country in Nebraska and they still don’t cover the cost of highway maintenance.

Even if current sentiments and economics seem to suggest certain small towns are not worth keeping around, these may not be the best way to place value on rural communities. Some things about rural life can and have been argued for even as the world becomes more and more urban, and these ideals are worth fighting for.

When I was in college I took a community planning course — unfortunately I only had time for one. One of our projects was to anticipate the growth of our own city, Lincoln, Nebraska. The projects were then evaluated by a professional planner, and after the critique our professor pointed out that we all assumed the city would get larger. Why do we always assume our communities will grow?

What happens if we decide we need to shut down small towns now and then in 100 years see a need for them again?

The new small town
Is there an in between, does it have to be all or nothing? Is there a new look for small towns, can they persist, indeed flourish in a new way that hasn’t necessarily defined yet?

When thinking about Hazelton and Ada, I’ve realized quickly that the internet presents business opportunities that were formerly not an option in rural communities. Hobby farms or organic farming might work as Americans (thankfully) continue to become more and more aware of where their food comes from. Rural places will have to find ways to leverage their less-considered natural resources in order to attract outsiders. A good example of this is the Star Party in the Nebraska Sandhills.

Some sacrifices will inevitably have to be made, but I believe creative individuals — people who think outside the American lifestyle box — will be able to make it work. How would you make life in a small town work?

We have a prevailing view in our society — not only in the policy world, but in many spheres — that we are divided creatures. Reason, which is trustworthy, is separate from the emotions, which are suspect . . .

. . . We emphasize things that are rational and conscious and are inarticulate about the processes down below. We are really good at talking about material things but bad at talking about emotion . . .

. . . Many of our public policies are proposed by experts who are comfortable only with correlations that can be measured, appropriated and quantified, and ignore everything else . . .

. . .First, the unconscious parts of the mind are most of the mind, where many of the most impressive feats of thinking take place. Second, emotion is not opposed to reason; our emotions assign value to things and are the basis of reason.

Art is not quantifiable. Artists don’t think in terms of what is or isn’t quantifiable. As artists, we’re not afraid to attempt to articulate the “processes down below.” Art is messy. It readily accepts the challenge of difficult subject matter.

All of this begs a question in my mind: How does living in a culture so reliant on the ability to quantify, so entrenched in the French Enlightenment idea of individualism, effect that culture’s reception to and perception of the arts?

Would the arts have been better off if the Enlightenment had remained a somewhat obscure philosophy, or if the more well-rounded ideas found in the British Enlightenment usurped those of the French? Would the United States be like if it were less focused on science, industry and economy and more focused on relationships and the humanities? Would it be easier to make a living as an artist? Would modernism and its penchant for individaulism have been so prominent?

I don’t have answers, but it’s still interesting to ponder. Carve out a few spare minutes this weekend to give the article a look and tell me what you think.

Research has shown that people think more creatively when they are calm, unhurried and free from stress, and that time pressure leads to tunnel vision . . .

The greatest thinkers in history certainly knew the value of shifting the mind into low gear. Charles Darwin described himself as a ‘slow thinker.’ Albert Einstein was famous for spending ages staring into space in his office at Princeton University. In the stories of Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes weighs up the evidence from crime scenes by entering a quasi-meditative state, ‘with a dreamy vacant expression in his eyes.

From Carl Honoré, In Praise of Slowness: Challenging the Cult of Speed (page 121)

Via Notes from my unhurried journey

“Nice save,” she replied.

“I don’t necessarily mean I want to move to a monastery.”

“So you mean you want to create, meditate and really share life.”

“Yeah, exactly,” I said. Her elaboration was spot on.

Recently I’ve begun to explore distributism (thanks to Timothy Jones harping on it over at Old World Swine), which as an economic theory is referred to as a “third way,” neither capitalism or socialism. G.K. Chesterton was a fan of the idea — among others such as Dorothy Day and Hilaire Belloc — which was in some ways a Catholic response to the industrial revolution (according to Wikipedia). A few quotes from Wikipedia:

Distributism seeks to subordinate economic activity to human life as a whole, to our spiritual life, our intellectual life, our family life.”

Under such a system, most people would be able to earn a living without having to rely on the use of the property of others to do so.

Pope Pius XI . . . provided the classical statement of the principle: “Just as it is gravely wrong to take from individuals what they can accomplish by their own initiative and industry and give it to the community, so also it is an injustice and at the same time a grave evil and disturbance of right order to assign to a greater and higher association what lesser and subordinate organizations can do.”

I don’t know why the Pope considered taking from individuals what they can accomplish on their own a “great evil,” but I can understand why he would call it a “disturbance of right order.” I love the idea of subordinating economic activity to the rest of human life as a whole. The way we harp on economics in our culture just doesn’t resonate with me. It seems out of place. Shouldn’t economics be an incidental byproduct of our human activity, instead of something we plan for and around?

Distributism is also interested in promoting crafts and culture.

Distributism promotes a society of artisans and culture. This is influenced by an emphasis on small business, promotion of local culture, and favoring of small production over capitalistic mass production. A society of artisans promotes the distributist ideal of the unification of capital, ownership, and production rather than what distributism sees as an alienation of man from work. This does not, however, suggest that Distributism favors a technological regression to a pre-industrial revolution lifestyle, but a more local ownership of factories and other industrial centers. Products such as food and clothing would be preferably returned to local producers and artisans instead of being mass produced overseas.

Returning production to the local level reminds me of the Tenth Amendment to the Constitution: “The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.”

Part of me wonders if distributism would fly in our interconnected internet age. If the producer of a particular item in Indiana was doing a superior job to those in California, wouldn’t people just order from the person in the Midwest who had set up an online store?

Regardless, I need to give a little more consideration to idea. From what I’ve read so far, I like it; it sounds as though it might create a lifestyle a little bit more conducive to creating, meditating and really sharing life.

. . . the creator has a binary opposite, and that is a consumer. There is also a middle ground, and that is a critic . . .

Rivalry is consumer thought. We are taught to be for or against something rather than to understand an issue from multiple perspectives. We are taught there are only two sides to an issue. This is of course absurd.

Which makes me wonder, has consumerism contributed to a lack of civil discourse?