Fizzling dreams of “back-to-the-land”

July 19, 2010

NOTE: Images in this archived article have been removed.

Image Removed

An earthship near the Earthship Biotecture World Headquarters (1 Earthship Way, Taos, NM 87571)

I have this dream, where I wake up in the morning to no other sound than leaves rustling in the breeze. I step onto the recycled barn wood floorboards that I laid down with my own two hands (with the help of friends), put on a robe and walk to the kitchen. On my way, I pass by the window that overlooks the garden and I think I’ll go out in an hour to see if any beans are ready. I don’t turn on the lights because I’m conserving the solar energy I’ve stored up over the past few days and besides, sunlight is already streaming in through the skylight. I cut myself a slice of homemade bread and spread it with blueberry preserves (made by my neighbor who swapped it for two bottles of milk from my goat) and think about what I’ll do today. There’s a lot: I’ve got gardening and laundry, and I have to pickle some of those veggies before they go bad. But I’m also going down to the county hospital to see some clients this afternoon (because in this fantasy I’ve already graduated from school and am a practicing occupational therapist). And I have to check the mail because I forgot to do that yesterday.

I don’t get that much junk mail any more because I don’t buy that much. My name and address has slipped off catalog companies’ lists. I don’t get utility bills any more because I harvest my energy. But there is one letter that arrives every month, without fail– it’s the bill from my educational loan company and it’s $1,200 a month.

And then *POP* just like that, my back-to-the-land bubble bursts. I rub the sleep from my eyes and blink: Ah yes, here I am. Back in Brooklyn, in school full time, pursuing a masters degree, racking up the loans.

After spending my twenties trying out different kinds of jobs and thinking hard about what my life’s work should be, I decided upon occupational therapy. I’m excited to be entering this field in which health is viewed in terms of the whole person and the goal is to empower people to live their lives fully, regardless of whatever disabilities they may have. But right now I am in graduate school and I’m paying for it. Or rather, my future self is paying for it.

I am admittedly romantic about my off-the-grid fantasies but even when I am a little more level-headed about it and think in terms of smaller steps away from the mainstream consumer lifestyle, I am not quite sure how it’s going to work out. When I think of how I’d like to be living five or ten years from now, making a pile of money doesn’t factor into it. I’d like to become more and more of a producer instead of a consumer, a creator instead of a buyer. On the continuum of time versus money, I’d like to be farther over on the time side. But right now, it seems, that in order to make my monthly loan payments, I’m going to have to work like a dog, or rather, like an American (a 40+ hour week, with two weeks of vacation a year) in order to earn enough to retro-actively finance my education.

Now, you may say, I’ve made my choice. I chose to participate in the system, so these are the rules of the game. It costs money to play the game. The system pays you so you can play. I will have an income that pays in dollars. Some people make choices to work outside the system. They don’t get paid in cash, but in the life they have built, the cash isn’t as useful as food, fuel, land and labor. These are the ways of our friends the radical homemakers. I cheer them on! I draw energy from their spirit! I marvel at their creative lives! I envy their higher education degrees earned debt-free and parents who agreed to take over their loan payments (as was the case for a few who were interviewed in the book Radical Homemakers.

So what do we do? We, the ever-growing number of young people with mountains of school loans (for just one mere example, see some of the profiles of these debt-ridden folks) both work to earn the money we owe, and live like human beings and maybe even creative, productive ones at that? I want to bake my own bread and eat it too but my growing fear is that I’m only going to have time for take-out once I step onto money-making hamster wheel.


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