Now we’re really stuck. The snow keeps dumping on my sister’s family dome on ten glorious white acres in Richmond, VT.

My sister lives in this dome in Richmond, Vermont

Flights are cancelled for the next days, and my parents, myself and everyone else here visiting for the holidays is stuck in Vermont.

And? My nephews—Leo (7), Huck (4), and Roy (2)— certainly don’t mind the blizzard. They dwell blissfully in the now, sledding down the hill toward the freezing creek and playing with legos by the wood burning stove. No TV for distraction here, just old-fashioned play and books and simple toys. Oh, and Another Culture.

This is a geodesic dome crowned with solar panels. When that electricity is not used, it gets channeled back into the power grid to light their neighbors’ homes. They endorse a Transition Town philosophy of heating with wood—a renewable, resource gathered from their own land, and therefore less dependent on oil. They’re planning to scale back from two cars to one. Clothing swaps, child-care co-ops, CSAs, composting toilets… if this isn’t officially the SVR (Second Vermont Republic) it sure feels like it.

When my sister brought Leo, Huck, and Roy down to the Big Apple to visit me some months back Huck got one of his first packaged treat—in Vermont it’s all always peeled or shucked—and he later wanted another granola bar but didn’t know how to express it. Scrunching up his forehead he finally said,  “Mommy, I want something… ‘wapped in garbage.” Wrapped in garbage! Could you have said it better?

On their drive back to Vermont—where billboards are illegal and the Wal-Mart until recently, didn’t exist (VT had been the last holdout)—they took a bathroom stop at a box-store complex near Boston, at a Barnes & Noble bookseller. My sister was going to the bathroom and asked 7-year-old Leo if he wanted to go too. Never having heard of Barnes & Noble, he replied: “No, I’ll wait in the barn.”

It’s fun to be around kids living a commercial-free childhood. So, as the snowflakes continue to bury their dome, I look around at the only advertising in sight… the words “Respect” and “Thoughtfulness” that grace the rounded walls.  And a quote from Mary Oliver that my sister wrote out by hand: “The path to heaven doesn’t lie down in flat miles. It’s in the imagination with which you perceive this world and the gestures with which you honor it.”

"The imagination with which you perceive the world"

Author William Powers imparts wisdom learned from living small and technologically disconnected in his book Twelve by Twelve.
© World Vision Report

After working for a decade in Third World countries, aid worker William Powers needed a new project. Living again in the U.S., Powers found himself disillusioned by the constant noise and motion. Then he met Dr. Jackie Benton, a physician from North Carolina. The doctor had a tiny, off-grid cabin without electricity or running water, and he invited Powers to live there. In his book Twelve by Twelve: A One Room Cabin Off the Grid and Beyond the American Dream (New World Library), Powers recounts his life without modern entrapments. His solo adventure shines a revealing light on our busy lifestyles.  

Here, Powers talks to E about the life lessons he learned while living small.  

1. E Magazine: You have an extensive history working with and living in poverty-like conditions. How did your aid work prepare you for your 12’x12’ living?  

William Powers: I’ve lived in all kinds of conditions from Civil War Liberia to highlands Bolivia. But it was still bizarre to be in the center of the richest country on Earth— and in a blue state at that—living a subsistence lifestyle.  


2. E: In your book, you describe cell phones and technology as a “bulldozer currently flattening the world.” Is all technology bad? Or just the way we use it?  

W.P.: I have some neo-Luddite tendencies, I’ll admit. As Gandhi said: “There’s more to life than speeding up its pace.” Twelve by Twelve seeks to be a space of philosophical and practical resistance to the “Flat World” ethos of speed, efficiency and the myth of progress. However, there is also a lot of good to be had from technologies—especially clean ones—but the shape of those technologies is a direct mirror of the quality of our “inner acre.” So the first step is inner work.  


3. E: You mention the outdoor solar shower quite a bit in the book. How does it work? Would this kind of shower be something that could be incorporated into a modern middle-class home?  

W.P.: It’s a simple 5-gallon SunShower diaphragm available online. Just put it on your lawn in the morning and take a nice hot shower in the afternoon. One reader just told me last week she got one for her porch. Anyone with a little space for privacy can use one in a warm, Southern climate.  


4. E: You often compare your experiences in Africa and Latin America to the American way of life. You write: “(In the cultures of the Global South) the idea is not to live better, but to live well.” What does this mean?  

W.P.: During a decade living abroad I discovered the planet’s Idle Majority, the billions who reject the Puritan work ethic and extol leisure. This “leisure ethic,” as I’ve come to dub it, isn’t laziness; it is an intelligent, holistic balance between doing and being. It is embodied by the Aymaran philosophy of “living well,” which I discovered in Bolivia. Most Bolivians reject “living better” and instead seek the elusive contours of enough. Enough (and not more) food, shelter, fresh air and social activity. It’s Aristotle’s “Golden Mean.”  

Americans can adopt this into their lifestyles in many ways. One example: Resist time-poverty by rejecting over scheduling and filling at least one hour a day with non-doing: contemplating a flower or a poem or walking slowly without destination. That’s boot camp for the leisure ethic!  


5. E: You criticize American culture a lot. Is there anything that we are doing right?  

W.P.: This is one of the most creative, open societies in the world. We have deep, democratic roots and wells of tolerance that we can tap into in the Environmental Era. There is much we are doing right today, but much of it is on the fertile creative edges—the Slow Food, TV Turn Off, 350.org, Transition Town, permaculture, organic farming subcultures—and also in evolving contemplative and mystical spiritual traditions. I think what we need to do is turn these subcultures into “The Culture.” Toward that end, and starting today, each of us can create our own mini-culture if we don’t like the big one. It’s incredibly powerful to stay maladjusted.  


6. E: In Twelve by Twelve you mention your family’s roots in the Catholic Church and their regard for simplicity. You hint that your beginnings made it easier for you to transition into your 12’x12’ lifestyle. Do you think this model is realistic for busy urban dwellers?  

W.P.: Each of us can ask ourselves: “What’s my 12’x12’?” and thereby uncover myriad ways to live more softly now, even in the city.  


7. E: What are some changes even the most materialistic urban consumers can make to simplify their lives?  

W.P.: Do more yoga and meditation, valuing the sacredness of the exquisite human body and consciousness every day. By doing that, attachment to a lot of stuff lessens naturally. Try this experiment: Spend a week or a month where you don’t buy anything you’ve ever seen advertised. It’s a powerful experiment. Consider a smaller house or apartment if changing abodes; then you don’t have to work crazy hours to fill it with a bunch of stuff you may not really need.  


8. E.: You talk a lot about spirituality. Are you religious in the orthodox sense?  

W.P.: In a recent piece, journalist David Crumm labeled me an “American Transcendentalist Buddhist.” The Transcendentalists connect through nature. Then the Buddhist approach gives compassion, love and respect for yourself and others. But putting names on things like this is always a problem. You know: The finger that points to the moon is not the moon. Anytime you start putting signposts on things, it begins to get confusing. Like Richard Rohr, I’ve never met a spiritual truth not slathered with paradox. So it all comes back to the radical present moment, being there, seeing what is, acting from that.  


9. E: In the book you seem to have a personal struggle with the car. When it is gone, you are relieved. Was there any time that you wanted it back?  

W.P.: I was happy without the car. The bike connected me to my surroundings. Also, when I did need a car I had to depend on others which was nice. The reciprocity and strong community in the Global South comes in part out of the fact that not every household has every tool and widget. You depend on others for certain things and that connects you to “we” and not just “me”.  


10. E: Can humans live in harmony with nature?  

W.P.: Yes. We are part of nature. If we live in connection with ourselves—our gift, our place in the whole— we are automatically back in harmony with nature.  

(By Shannon Gombos © E Magazine)
 

CONTACT: William Powers at www.williampowersbooks.com; those looking to have William Powers speak at their college can e-mail melissa@williampowersbooks.com.  

On my Facebook page, I asked you to share “one thing for which you’re grateful.” I’m grateful for such a positive outflow of responses. They illuminated this rainy day. As promised, I randomly picked one out and that person–Jane Holbrook of Beaufort, North Carolina– has won a signed copy of Twelve by Twelve!

One woman writes: “I’m grateful to still be alive to watch my grandson grow up! I clinically died giving birth to my daughter 27 years ago. I am awed and amazed to still be here!” What a beautiful story.

Many of you spoke of the joys voluntary simplicity: “I appreciate my little down-sized home so much. I feel warm and safe there, and it’s so easy to care for.”  And: “I’m grateful for spacious 800 sq.feet I call home and the bountiful half acre that surrounds it.”

I loved to read of so many simple things that we often forget, like:

“Warm fire and a good book on a rainy day.”

“I am grateful for my snug little house to cozy up in this winter.”

And this response from way down in Bolivia: “I’m grateful with the life because in every country, every culture, I meet human beings want to live with respectful to nature.” Why can’t we imagine a better world into existence?

Finally, I truly enjoyed this response: “I am grateful I can just ‘be’ in any moment and feel so overwhelmingly grateful for my surroundings. What an awesome feeling when you can see blessings in everything!”

Indeed.  As I learned in the 12×12 house in North Carolina: Presence is primary. What happens in the present moment is secondary.

To read more responses—and add what you’re grateful for—you can click here or leave a comment below. Thank you!

ABC’s morning show AM Northwest asks William Powers: “What about recreational shopping? Americans love to hit the mall and shop for fun… What do you recommend?” Powers answers that and gives other insights from Twelve by Twelve in this short video. Enjoy and pass it on.

Do you mean there's life after shopping?

                                                                    Watch the interview