I Live There. I Never Leave.

On the people who left, the old man's inventory, and what it means that I watched it all from town.

Title: SHUTDOWN
Status: Archived Log
Author: Ezra Hale
Cycle: 001 — HANDSHAKE
Position: Log 005 of 5

A few nights ago, I watched a documentary on a group of people that decided to live off the grid. I couldn’t stop watching. It wasn’t admiration exactly. It was something else. Something more.

There was a lady who was so ready to leave it all behind that she quit her job, took her savings and bought an old school bus. She spent most of her time driving the bus around, parking it where she could and lived out of it. I assume she stayed in a location until she was told to move, but the documentary didn’t really say much about that part. Or maybe I missed it.

There was also an older man. He had a long grey beard with grey hair that peeked out of his cap. He carried a camper’s pack on his back. His home was a large tent.

My immediate thoughts were how brave they were.

The most interesting part to me wasn’t so much their current living situations and their day to day, as what appeared to be the focus of the documentary. It was more about what it was that they left behind. Even more than that, the follow through. The decision to leave their current way of life. They didn’t really go into detail about what exactly they left behind. So my imagination fills in the blanks. I imagine it would be family, maybe property, investments? Deciding to leave it all behind and actually doing it. That’s probably what kept me watching.

While the documentary showed off the beautiful greens of the forest, the deep blues of the lakes and rivers. All that went through my mind is “What happened?”

I wonder what it was that brought them to make that decision and follow through. What was the “last straw”? I wonder if it was a gradual wearing down, a grinding of that defensive wall we use. The “it’s not so bad?” Or worse, “that’s just how it is.” Maybe it wasn’t dramatic at all. Maybe it was just one quiet Tuesday.

Eventually, the lady and the old man stumbled across a man who owned acres of land and had a farm. He had animals. He allowed the woman to park her bus on his property, the old man to pitch his tent, and they found their home. I’m not too sure what the arrangement was but they were helping out around the property, tending to animals, and fixing the infrastructure.

I noticed, particularly with the old man, some of his belongings. I saw a 5 gallon jug of water, honey buns, boots, garlic, a brush, a small white towel, a small white rag, a pencil, paper, Jif peanut butter containers (not sure if it was peanut butter inside), a full bottle of Sunny D, Tupperware, empty bottles of Mountain Dew in what seemed to be a makeshift recycling bin, tuna cans, and an empty box of cigarettes.

My next question was “where do they get things they need?”

“I don’t think we really need as much as we think we need.”

- The Old Man

Soon the old man, almost as if he could read my mind or I had asked him personally, said he “hadn’t been to town in 2 weeks” and that sometimes he wouldn’t have to go for months.

That was my favorite part of the documentary.

I don’t go to town just when I need something. I live there. I never leave. It’s always open and I’m always browsing. Everything is for sale.

There’s a digital layer of connectivity that sits on top of everything now. It’s installed in everyday life and has become a part of the infrastructure. It promises convenience and access. It promises to make life easier, to make life more efficient and to save time. In some ways it’s undeniable that it does. The trade offs are starting to seem too much for me.

I streamed the documentary by the way. It was fast and easy. I say that reluctantly.

As much as I would like it that way, it’s obvious that there is no turning back for the broader population. The Information Society is here to stay. Yet, while most people won’t choose to live completely off grid, I do believe it’s best that we interact with the grid differently. To change our posture when it comes to the internet, and the connectivity of things.

I spend a lot of time thinking about what that would look like — more than just wishful thinking.

For example, if we treated the internet like the old man treated the town. What if we choose to “come to town” only when we need to? To get the things that we couldn’t get locally. Missing pieces or things that improve the local system. To build local first systems. Systems that don’t require constant presence in the town to function.

I guess it all boils down to what is it that I need and what exactly am I going to town for.

ezra@endofday:~$ sudo shutdown -h now

> connection: closed.