The Search for a Lifestyle of Necessity

On Saturday, I went for the longest bike ride of my life, a startling 70.9 miles. It was the first day of the year with stellar biking weather: 70 degrees, sunny, and a slight breeze. It would have been hard to imagine a better day. Hence, I planned to make the best of it. I planned to ride from my house in North Solon to Hiram College and back, a 48 mile round trip (which I obviously extended mid-ride).

I left my house at noon and embarked on my ride. I rode through Chagrin Falls and then entered a new, beautiful part of Cleveland I had never explored before. The first 15 miles of the ride consisted of hill climbs; however, unlike other rides in the area, there was a lack of downhill to accompany all of the climbing. I was surrounded by scenic wilderness and generally empty roads. I quickly grew exerted by these first difficult miles. The increased temperature and humidity resulted in more thirst and sweat than I have been accustomed to these last few months. Breaks and water proved more vital than ever to my success.

After passing Kenston High School, the terrain began to mellow out. I could not believe that I was just a mere 15 minute drive from society. I was submersed in Ohio farmland. It seemed so removed from society that I even saw a woman walking her dog in the middle of a 45mph street. The roads felt barren and poorly paved. On a road bike with no suspension, I felt every one of these imperfections as it shook my spine like a ragdoll. But the scenery seemed to make everything worthwhile. The houses were separated by great distances, with stretches of empty field in between. I recall a mulch truck driving by me with a broken headlight. The truck left a terrible, pungent odor in its wake. Some mailboxes were constructed from scraps of rusted metal parts. Families played outside in their expansive forested properties. The lifestyle was so different from my own that it forced me to reflect. These families live closer to nature and a more simplistic manner than I do. In some ways, it seems truly appealing to live a more scenic, relaxed, and rudimentary lifestyle. But on the other hand it compromises many attributes of my lifestyle that I take for granted, such as living close to a town or having so many other people in close proximity. It left me baffled. Neither lifestyle is evaluatively better than the other, it is just a matter of person preference. At one point in my in my lifetime, I would like to experience the lifestyle of a farmer. I want to live away from society. Otherwise, I will never learn which lifestyle I prefer to live.

In the Walden reading for class, Thoreau expresses a theory that some creatures comforts humans have created are practical when living in the wilderness. Anything one does in society utilizes a different amount of these comforts. However, living without any comforts simply is not practical. For example, when one goes camping, it is generally accepted to sleep in a tent and sleeping bag rather than making a shelter from scratch. In a more extreme example of this phenomena, Thoreau explains that there is almost no environment where wearing clothes is an unnecessary construct. This first portion of my ride forced me to question what aspects of our lifestyle are necessary to one’s wellbeing. After passing through Hiram, some more hill climbing, and a breathtaking view overlooking Nelson Ledges State Park, I began the next portion of my ride. The next roughly ten-mile stretch to Middlefield passed directly through the heart of Amish Country. The Amish people choose to spend their entire lives in a pursuit of an answer to this question in regard to how much technology is necessary.

What I found in Amish Country was not a single answer to this question, but rather a spectrum of answers. For transportation some used cars, others used horse drawn carriages, and one man I saw even used a rudimentary scooter. For gardening some individuals used tractors, others used antique lawnmowers, and others simply did it by hand. But by far the most interesting interpretation of practical technology I saw was a man who crossed the street in his electric wheelchair to collect his mail. In juxtaposition to this man was his house which had a clothes line like many other Amish households (suggesting that he did not have a washing machine or dryer). What was this man’s interpretation? The wheelchair seemed to allow the man to actually live a more rudimentary lifestyle with his disability because it gave him independence. This experience reaffirmed the fact that there is no best way to live, it is just a matter of interpretation.

This ride was special to me because it forced me to step back and question my viewpoint on the world. What is the right amount of technology we need to live a happy life? I will never know the answer, but experiences like this ride can certainly help me approach an answer that works for me. One aspect of both Amish Country and farmland that I particularly enjoyed was the obvious love for the outdoors. There were people outside at nearly every household. In Amish Country, I saw some families just sitting in a circle with lawn chairs outside talking. Some families just played outside, others mowed their lawns. Regardless of the medium, the general enjoyment of the outdoors and family was remarkable and a rare sight. I feel that we often miss these types of moments in our front country lifestyle, and they are an important reminder that the way we live is not necessarily the superior one.