By Cassidy Grom | Echo
Last semester, I decided my life was being frittered away.
Henry David Thoreau said the solution to a life being wasted away little by little was to "Simplify, simplify." So I did. I decided to prepare and present a 25-minute speech without any sort of modern technology. And it was the most worthwhile thing I've done in college so far.
My goal was to research and form an educated opinion about the work and life of Thoreau without using a computer. The first day, I spent about 20 minutes aimlessly wandering around the lower level of the library before I gave up and begged for help.
The librarian hastily went to look up "Thoreau" on the online catalogue but I interrupted her and explained that no technology meant even she couldn't use the computer to assist me. A little shocked, she excused herself. She came back with an old laminated piece of paper that listed an approximate location for the books-and thus began my week with Thoreau.
I spent a few days scanning all the information I could from the short articles in the World Book and other encyclopedias. I would finish one article, but it would suggest further reading on a related topic, like some sort of prehistoric hyperlink system. A smarter person would have moved their stuff closer to the reference section, but instead I regularly shuffled across the library, lugging massive books old enough to read "property of Fort Wayne College".
I quickly realized that my current note-taking method, which consisted mostly of fragmented facts and scribbled thoughts, would not be sufficient for off-the-grid research. There was no search history to rely on and no way to jump between multiple tabs. I had to slow down and make sure I understood what I was reading. I started meticulously documenting my research, and somewhere in the back of my mind, my elementary English teacher whispered, "Make an outline."
After all the research I could muster, it was time to tackle the hard part: writing my speech. Despite my deepened understanding of different literary theories and professional stances about Thoreau, I just wanted to rely on my longtime pals: Sparknotes and the red squiggly lines that tell me when I misspell a word. But I pushed through, and I am glad I did.
When I stood before my world literature class with nothing but my handwritten notes and a few pages ripped out of our textbook, I felt proud. I wasn't hiding behind a PowerPoint with misattributed picture credits, and I most certainty didn't show a video. I just talked and told them what I had learned.
There was something deeply meaningful about my week of slowing down and engaging with the task at hand. I was forced to appreciate the process instead of trying to quickly finish the project. Thoreau was known for his attempts to detach himself from modern conveniences by spending two years alone at Walden Pond. And although my experimental project was much less intense than his, I think I understand a little better the joy that comes with a life free of distraction and full of contemplation.
In these last, stress-filled weeks of the semester, I want to hold onto that concept of engagement, no matter what I am doing. Will you join me? You probably don't have time to handwrite a speech, but there are many smaller acts you can do to live a simpler life. Build a phone tower at your table at the DC and do the harder thing: look your floormate in the eyes. When the inevitable gorgeous sunset occurs over Taylor Lake, don't Instagram it; take a moment to say a prayer of thanksgiving. Let's do as Thoreau suggested: "live deep and suck out all the marrow of life."
