Lessons in Self-Sufficiency and Community from the Past and Present

Many younger people today are starting to question the permagrowth mindset of our society. They wonder where we, as a society and world, will end up after running on an endless conveyor loop of consumption. The math, to them, isn’t quite converging to a sustainable outcome.

This good questioning has led to the #cottagecore, #homesteading, and #simplelife movements, which I wholeheartedly support. I believe that if both young and old can relearn self-sufficiency and self-reliance, we can build stronger communities capable of weathering natural disasters in a warming world.

The trick to inspiring people to become more resilient to future disasters is to start small and find a group of like-minded people — something I frequently remind my readers.

My example is being part of the local gardening club. Started by my partner, it’s become an active online community where members share seedlings, seeds, and gardening tips.

The group barters and trades among its members and hosts two gardening parties a year. My partner routinely shares the extra bounty from our garden with our neighbors, and they, in turn, share what they grow with us.

Anyone can start a small garden in their backyard or even on a deck. I grew tomatoes and green chiles on my apartment deck when I lived in New Mexico, and I even brewed beer in my closet. Being able to supplement your food supply during the growing season (and preserving it for the winter) can ease the stress of worrying about food security if another pandemic breaks out.

I should note to my readers that gardening does require a bit of sweat equity. I remember turning the soil in the backyard with my father and watering the garden in the heat of the summer. I was a cranky teenager at the time, but my father would share his wisdom of the earth with me.

My father grew up in a farming village in post-WWII Germany. His family was on the poor side, but they always had food to eat. They were money-poor but land-rich, and their bellies were always full. He was just two years old when the war ended and grew up watching his brothers and father work the fields while his mother and sisters took care of domestic duties.

It was a simpler time when the only concerns his family had were the harvest and setting aside enough food for the year to feed a family of thirteen. My father was one of nine children and lived with his parents and grandfather.

The ancestral home my father grew up in was built without any heat. In the winter, everyone would gather near the kitchen, the only warm place in the house, thanks to cooking. My great-grandfather would tell stories of what life was like growing up as a boy in the 1800s.

They would play games and quiz each other on which family lived on which street and what profession they had. Everyone in the village had a role — whether it was the blacksmith, the carpenter, or the farmer, everyone contributed to the community, which in turn supported them.

Life was simple but hard. There was no romance in it — no cottagecore aesthetic, no trad-wife dreams. It was all hard work. Despite that, my father grew up in a tight-knit community with a deep knowledge of the land, farming, and surviving on a shoestring. He thrived in a community that weathered the socio-economic collapse of Germany. His life taught me the meaning of resiliency.

I share his story to ground people in reality. Farming is hard work. Being self-sufficient and resilient is hard work. Building a community you can trust and lean on is hard work.

We must accept the fact that building anything fair, just, and healthy requires effort — but it’s all worth it. For what we sow, we shall reap. Let’s plant the seeds for a better harvest this year.