With solar electricity, cloudy weather spells low power. We learn to do without, and appreciate what we have. It is easy. It is simple. We have lived completely without for enough time to be grateful for the little we have. We can use it wisely.
And yet, evenings following those robin blue sky days of abundant sunshine, we may flip on five lights. All at once. And feel we are living large. And somehow, take a decadent sinful pleasure in that. Why?
I read about a family surviving life back in the pioneer days, and considered the hardships, the sacrifices, the lack of luxury. I looked around my home and my life and felt guilty. I saw unnecessary luxuries. Waste. Fluff. They keep us removed from the land, from the core of our life. Removed from what matters most.
We have too much. The land fill is spilling over with plenty. And our homes? Our fridge? Our closet? Our cars? Our full schedules?
We grab onto more and more and more. We take pleasure in amassing. Perhaps a safety and security. A fear of being without. It seems no matter how much we give away, how right and generous we feel we are being by sharing, donating and getting rid of things… all we do is make room for more.
We grasp onto labels like “natural” and “organic” and “recycled” and feel we can buy and purchase and support and spent there because they are… better. It’s still spending. It’s still getting too much, isn’t it? It’s still more than we really need.
We start small. Considering what we can give up. What we can do without. One thing at time. One thing that need not be replaced. An empty space that can remain open, clear, uncluttered. Slowly, we begin to pare down to what matters most. And suddenly, there is room to breath.