Living Too Big?

Last Saturday, in the Six, I referenced an article about a study done on a Norwegian community whose residents show a remarkably positive outlook on life even in the months that are remarkably dark and cold, thanks to its extreme northern location. I told you I had some thoughts marinating, and today...I share the thoughts.

Back when I still worked at WBCL, God and I had a number of conversations about the future. About staying vs. leaving. About the motivation behind either decision. And I sensed at that time that God was impressing on me something about learning to live smaller. I didn't really know what that meant, but it was an impression I had, so I nodded and quit my job.

Radio is a big deal. It reaches farther than you know and touches lives you never see with your eyes. The station {the building, I mean} might have been small, but the job was big. People ask me often if I miss it. I miss my work family. I miss the fun of being on air with them. But I don't miss the bigness. I don't miss the big commute and the big schedule. Being home has brought the exact calmness to our lives that I imagined it would.

Ryan even mentioned the other day that he likes having me home more than he thought he would. Not that he didn't want me to make the change, but it has affected him more than he thought it would - and those changes have been good for him. This accepting of smallness has allowed us to rest more. Sleep in longer in the morning, have more free time in the evenings, have more weekends...and he likes it. And so do I.

God took smallness to the next step and urged me to work on simplifying our home. That's why for the first month or so after I left full-time work, I spent all day many days just combing through the house, weeding out, paring down, having a sale. Less is more.

Even my adventures with the capsule wardrobe have helped me understand the benefits of less. Of not buying things just because they're cheap, but only committing to them if I love them and they fit in the parameters of what I truly need.

Less. Small. Breathing space.

So. Back to the article. In the article, they talked about how the residents made the winter months cozy, but they went on to say that didn't mean they became hermits. "Leibowitz reports that Tromsø had plenty of festivals and community activities creating the sense that everyone was in it together." {Source} My first thought, when I read that, was "Well that would be hard to do here, because to plan such things, you would have to travel and winter is too unpredictable."

Then I realized that I really probably don't have a clue about real inclement weather in comparison with a place so far north, it goes several months without seeing sunlight. So what's the difference? I think the difference is that their community is...their actual community.

You can get out and visit your friends when they all live right by you. Even if it's a million below zero. I think the difference is that for us, our community is spread over a four hour radius. Seeing friends means you might need a whole weekend because you might have to drive 3-4 hours just to get there...then you spend your quality time...then you have 3-4 hours ahead to get back home.

It reminded me, actually, of what Lisa Anderson talked about in her book, The Dating Manifesto, which I reviewed a while back. She said, "A couple of centuries ago, you  married the girl who lived down the dirt road from you. You'd grown up together. Her family farmed too. You were about the same age and, her freckles notwithstanding, she seemed like a nice girl."

Then Lisa went on to say, "Today's myriad of choices makes it harder for us to focus. Because we're not forced to look in one place, we end up looking everywhere. And we get distracted, frustrated, even paralyzed by the options before us." {Source: The Dating Manifesto by Lisa Anderson, page 138}

We're just too big. We date too big and can't find anyone  to marry because we're looking at everyone. We're friending too big and finding ourselves exhausted from the sheer need to keep EVERYONE we've EVER known in our closest friend circle.

The internet is a beautiful thing. It allows us to have access to the lives and thoughts of people who live far, far away. It allows us to be in touch in ways people two hundred years ago {or twenty years ago} could not. But we're wearing ourselves out. We live in a warmer climate than the Norwegians in the study, but we don't live in a warmer circle. I think we could learn a thing or two from them. They make up for the lack of warmth by living warmly in smallness.

I bet they borrow eggs from neighbors and know the name of every person on their block.

What would that kind of life look like?