The Longest Non-Answer

But, what about the world at large? Are my small acts helpful or relevant? Are too many people too impoverished to even consider extricating themselves from the institutions which harm the natural world and thus, themselves? How can we move to a more long-sighted earth-centered paradigm when people are most concerned with their next economic quarter and when the next iphone is coming out?

Ah, I love the small, easy questions, if only because they give me something to mull over when I’m not thinking about more important things, such as whether or not anyone would notice if I snuck another cookie from the stash downstairs.

Besides which, it sure is nice to know that somewhere in rural Colorado, someone named Rachel is wrestling with the broader implications and perhaps even relevance of her own thoughts and actions. This is such a familiar line of thought and discussion around here, I can almost smell it.

For the record, I don’t think I’m really qualified to answer Rachel’s questions. On the other hand, I’m not sure anyone is, so in a sense perhaps I’m neither more nor less qualified than anybody else. I suppose that no matter what I say, my answer will be rooted in my particular set of beliefs, which themselves have evolved from my particular set of circumstances and experiences. In other words, and to use the language of a couple recent posts, my answer can speak only to my truth.

A couple of years back, when I was spending a lot of time with my friend Erik, the central character in SAVED, I asked him if he ever worries about his future in the context of his chosen ethos of monetary and material asset non-accumulation. In other words, was he essentially disadvantaging himself by choosing to live in alignment with his truth, which tells him that his life is better spent in pursuit of experience, connection, and feeling, rather than money (not that the two are mutually exclusive. On the other hand, maybe they are). His answer? “I cannot see how living in accordance with my values is going to screw me in the end.”

Perhaps Erik is simply naive. I get that. But as I’ve mentioned before, I’ll take naive over cynical every damn day of the week, because I have come to see how naiveté and even idealism are the fruits of living with purpose. In a sense, they are the rewards for maintaining the clarity of our vision for what the world can be – for what our lives can be – even when there is little support for such a vision. Even when our vision is derided as impractical, or illogical, or downright foolish.

In my own life, and in relation to Rachel’s extremely relevant and important questions, I have found Erik’s answer  to be both comforting and inspiring. Because the truth is (and this might not be a popular sentiment ’round these parts), my small acts might not be all that helpful and relevant, particularly in the context of forces that feel overwhelmingly large and powerful.

I can see how some might view this as defeatist, as the antithesis of the naiveté and idealism I purport to value. I can see how some might hear me say “I cannot see how living in accordance with my values is going to screw me in the end,” and hear only “I” and “me,” and think, wow, that sounds pretty damn selfish, Hewitt.

But here is what I know: My sphere of influence is small, indeed. It extends to myself, my family, and to a certain extent, my community. Maybe, just maybe, a bit of it seeps into the lives of those who read my books or frequent this space. When I absolve myself of the expectation that my acts must somehow be helpful or relevant to the world at large and the  frustration such expectation inevitably leads to, I am, in a sense, allowing myself to inhabit my small world with even more naiveté and idealism. And when this happens, my perception of the world around me shifts. It no longer feels stingy and sad and exploited. It just feels, for lack of a better word, beautiful. My sense of what matters – so readily thwarted by the prevailing narrative of the contemporary economy – becomes sharper. Clearer.

It is easy to forget that the world is ultimately comprised of individual people. It is easy to forget that our nation is ultimately a nation of citizens and communities. I guess what I’m saying, is that it is easy to forget how important these things really are, and what their impact can be. This is one of the values I carry, and although she does not specifically say so, I hear in Rachel’s words that she carries it, too.

The truth is, I sometimes feel as if my small actions on this small hill in rural northern Vermont are inconsequential and maybe even futile. What does it any of it matter? The chores, the time with the boys in the woods, the long, hot hours spent haying with Martha, shooting the breeze with Melvin in his barnyard as his cows shuffle and moo to be fed and milked: What, really does it matter, beyond my own arrogant self-satisfaction?

In these moments, I begin to lose that sense of beauty, that clarity regarding what is truly important. This is precisely when Erik’s words are most helpful to me, because they remind me that no matter what, so long as I remember what is important to me, so long as I live in accordance with my values, I’ll be ok.

And it is only from this place – secure in my skin, on my land, in this community, on this earth – that I can ever hope to be helpful or relevant to anyone else.

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Holy moly. I just realized that may be the longest non-answer I’ve ever given. To anyone who finds it unsatisfactory or is inclined to ponder these matters further, I highly recommend this essay.