The Buddhist: The Simple Life

This is a slightly modified version of a blog originally released on August 30th, 2008.

I was channel surfing before bed tonight when I happened upon a show called "Amazing Log Homes." Sounds a little silly, I know, but it fascinated me.
For one thing, it was on HGTV, a channel I rarely pay attention to. After all, I don't own a home (let alone a garden) and won't be able to afford one any time soon (if at all).
To put it another way, I don't fall into the demographic that typically watches this network. If you know anything about TV, you probably know that you'll see different commercials depending on what type of show you're watching, what time of day it is, and what network it's on. The commercials I saw while watching this show were not the ones I was used to watching, but they described a life I was very familiar with.
Much of my childhood was spent in a relatively small town in the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas. Small towns attract a certain kind of person, especially towns in the mountains. The people are more open, probably because privacy is in shorter supply than it is in a large city. They're also simpler, not in terms of intellect but rather in terms of their expectations and desires.
These are white people generally (at least in my hometown), some of which are a bit . . .earthy, shall we say? These are folks who use words like "folks," who go to church, and believe that men should be the providers and women should be the homemakers. These people buy American, listen to country music, and furnish their homes with animal heads. And the commercials reflected that.
The show reflected it as well. Notice that the title of the show is not "Amazing Log Houses." That's not by mistake. These were homes in the truest sense of the word. Many of these buildings were massive, built to house not simply a nuclear family, but multiple generations of family. They were built to last, homes to be passed from generation to generation (one owner said his home was built to last 500 years). Despite their size, most of the homes failed to evoke a feeling of excess or frivolity. They were akin to the American West version of a castle, or the long houses of certain Native American tribes.
By this I mean that the size of the homes was not a reflection of the owner's ostentatious ways, but of the home's place at the center of life for the family. Like the aforementioned long houses, these homes were built to provide shelter from the elements, a place to prepare and cook food, and living areas where the kids and older members of the family can spend their time.
It's true that your average Joe would never be able to afford this kind of home (one house was completely self-sustained, running off of solar and wind power; that's no cheap feat). But rich or not, it takes a certain kind of mindset to find these kinds of places attractive, not only in terms of décor (how much wood paneling can you stand?), but, more importantly, in terms of the very concept of the multi-generation home.
I speak of "these people" as if I am an outsider, but this is simply out of habit. After a long stint as an anthropology major, I can't help but fall into "objective observer" mode, an outsider studying an American subculture. I hope it doesn't come off as condescending, because, while I may not be a full member of the subculture (once a flat-lander, always a flat-lander), I share many of their ideals.
I'm perfectly comfortable with being in a relationship in which I am either on equal or lesser financial footing than my girlfriend, but there's always a small part of me that would prefer to be the breadwinner. I appreciate the solitude of nature and the simple pleasures of falling asleep to the chirping of crickets and waking up to the cries of jays. And I can definitely understand the appeal of living with family.
Before my family moved into the foothills, we largely lived with my grandparents. Looking back, I can see how this was probably not the most ideal situation for my parents, at least by today's societal standards. On the TV show "Everybody Loves Raymond," Ray and Debra had probably forgotten the meaning of privacy, and their parents lived across the street. Imagine living with your parents. Kiss your "us time" goodbye! And while you're tossin' stuff out, you can ditch your "me time" as well.
But to my brother and me it just felt natural (my sister was too young to remember it, I believe). If Mom and Dad weren't home, then certainly Grandma and Grandpa would be. My grandparents were able to fill in the "gaps" in parenting that my parents left. It's not that my parents were bad at parenting. In all truth, I couldn't have asked for a better pair. I just mean that my grandparents were more experienced (raising six kids will do that to you).
Regardless, I think knowing that someone will always be there for you (whether it's a parent, grandparent, aunt or uncle) gives you a sense of security and stability. As anyone who's taken a child development class will tell you, those are two extremely important factors in a child's maturation. It's probably why I turned out as confident as I am, despite the fact that I'm a total geek. Whether this is true or not, I think living in a multi-generation home felt so natural because it is natural. The human race has lived in such a way for most of its existence. Much of Asia, Latin America, and Africa are still living in this manner.
For many of us living in the US and Europe, the thought of giving up so much privacy is an uncomfortable notion. It's only natural in individualistic societies in which the nuclear family (or at least a broken form of it) has become the standard. Living on our own affords us a sense of accomplishment, I suppose, and allows us to say, "See? I can do it. I'm my own person."
But is that really necessary? Look at the state of things. People seem to simultaneously have too much free time to focus on themselves (because they're on their own) and not enough time to relax and spend time with their kids (because of the realities of today's economic climate). As a result we have a multitude of broken families with children who simply don't receive the love and care that they need.
Perhaps it's time to rethink things. While I believe that individualism is not inherently bad, I also think that it can (and often does) get out of hand. Take a look at the people in the cars around you next time you're caught in traffic. Odds are pretty good that they look at least a little pissed (even the one in the rear-view mirror). Wouldn't they be happier if they had a large and loving family to go home to? Wouldn't they be a little less self-absorbed if they were constantly reminded that the universe did not revolve around them, even if it meant sacrificing a little privacy?
Can the majority of the world be wrong? Why not take a good look at what they've got going for them? Sure, they can learn a lot from us, especially in terms of the technological leaps we've made. But as we leapt forward we left some things behind: our families, and the satisfaction of having a true home.