September
15, 2005: John Ivanko and Lisa Kivirist’s version
of “the good life” is situated on a five-and-a-half
acre farmstead in southwestern Wisconsin, where they eat organic
vegetables with friendly neighbors, run an environmentally
conscious bed-and-breakfast, and try to live “a life
simple in design yet rich in meaning” (xvii). As Bill
McKibben suggests in the foreword, Ivanko and Kivirist are
participants—and leaders—in the latest wave of
back-to-the-landers. While their quest for simple, fulfilling
lives follows in the tradition of Scott and Helen Nearing,
the hippie homestead movement and other migrations into rural
America, Ivanko and Kivirist are decidedly modern in their
approach to country life.
Ivanko and Kivirist are from the city. Both had high-paying
city jobs for a number of years, drank countless lattes, commuted
hours to work, and gradually realized that their fast-paced
city lives were leaving them unfulfilled and disconnected
from nature. They resolved to move to the country, open a
bed-and-breakfast called Inn Serendipity, and try to practice
self-sufficiency without sacrificing all modern conveniences.
They have an Internet connection and fax machine, but no television;
they are inclined to use “green” products and
appliances, but they are not “green” purists.
In short, Ivanko and Kivirist understand the importance of
flexibility in their attempt to achieve sustainability and
simplicity in complex, modern times.
Rural Renaissance, though sprinkled with charming
anecdotes from Ivanko and Kivirist’s homesteading experiences,
primarily serves as a practical how-to manual for other urbanites
interested in embarking on their own rural odysseys. A wide
range of topics are covered in the book, from permaculture
to green architecture to making homemade fertilizer and buying
sustainably harvested wood. Because many of the topics in
Rural Renaissance are elaborated in much greater
detail in other books, the co-authors follow each topic with
lists of print and electronic resources for further study.
One aspect of Rural Renaissance that a reader isn’t
as likely to find in other how-to sustainable living manuals,
however, is the emphasis on parenting, developing a strong
sense of community, and preparing for the financial challenges
of country living. The co-authors include a pie chart of their
diversified, income-producing work with the aim of helping
potential back-to-the-landers understand new definitions of
wealth geared towards quality of life over income. Short sections
also coach readers on how to go vegetarian, how to start an
eco-friendly bed-and-breakfast, and how to travel as an eco-tourist.
Though Rural Renaissance may at times seem like
a shameless advertisement for Inn Serendipity, it does serve
as a useful, if slightly overstuffed, compilation of eclectic
resources and information. Sidebars include everything from
homemade granola and raspberry cordial recipes to explanations
of biomimicry to lessons on sustainable seafood purchasing.
One particularly thought-provoking sidebar discusses the
importance of maintaining “lifelines” as ways
of coping with the hardships of country life. “If all
else fails,” write Ivanko and Kivirist, “we can
always go back to the cubicle” (75). Yet the cubicle
can only serve as a reliable, last-ditch lifeline if one began
in the cubicle. The new “rural renaissance,” as
these co-authors see it, seems distinctly for those who begin
with plenty of lifelines, a solid chunk of change in the bank,
enough connections to the urban world to continue publishing
books and magazine articles, and the possibility of inheriting
small fortunes. Sure, it’s still tough—and noble—to
start a sustainable life in the country no matter how large
your safety net, but that’s where the modern wave towards
rural America distinguishes itself from many of the previous
waves.
Ivanko and Kivirist belong to the generation of “Cultural
Creatives,” those 40 or 50 million Americans who, as
Bill McKibben writes, “are educated and successful,
but also out of tune with George Bush’s America”
(xvi). They are interested in “creating a practical
and grounded culture centered on realigning life with personal
values” (44). Though this movement may seem like just
another opportunity for coining a funky, new-age buzzword,
the ultimate aim of many Cultural Creatives is to move away
from materialistic consumerism and embrace “simpler
lives that are rich in meaning, relationships and friendships”
(44). Indeed, such aims are imperative for healing the many
problems found in contemporary society. Whether that means
enlightened urbanites should all move to the country to open
bed & breakfasts is another matter.
For those who consider themselves Cultural Creatives and
are thinking of surfing the contemporary wave into rural America,
this book will certainly serve as a helpful guide and motivational
model. There is much to be learned from the Ivanko and Kivirist’s
anecdotal advice, and the resource lists all lead to a wealth
of carefully chosen texts. For those, however, who were born
into country living and don’t have the cubicle to turn
back to, there are a number of other books that teach the
same how-tos without tossing around the self-help terminology
of an eco-friendly version of Dr. Phil.
Josh Anchors is a beekeeper, novelist, and outdoor guide
from central Maine.
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