The
agrarian myth of
rural simplicity is based on the
belief that true happiness can be found by living close to the land. During the early days of the
United States, a popular Jeffersonian concept of this myth was the
yeoman farmer as the
bedrock of American
democracy.
An image found at the conclusion of
Voltaire's
Candide, and almost everywhere else in western literature and
popular culture. The
romantization of the
land of cavaliers and cotton fields. On the news when they
lament the corporatization of
small farms in the midwest, and the little homes on the
prarie.
The
heart of the myth is that growing up on a farm and
mucking out the barn builds
character and
discipline, breeding
innocence along with a zen-like quality that comes from observing the cycles of life and death and
life again, like a cycle unpredictable, yet always in mysterious harmony. Innocence and a peculiar sort of
wisdom when it comes to
human events. Where reality is
reality, because
nature never lies.
It
brings to mind the countless stories told of the corn-fed
country girl or boy coming to
make a name for themselves in the
big city. It's never what they
expect but in the end their
values gained on the
farm contribute to their
eventual success. After multiple hardships and
heartbreaks, they go back to the
farm with
lots of money and
marry their
high school sweetheart.
When I'm standing in a
penthouse looking down from the
roof of
Singapore, I can see tens of
thousands of
trees planted along the side of the immaculate
street, exactly 2.5
meters apart and I sense the
unnaturalness of everything. The sleek lines and cool
glass of this apartment matching the shuddering
newness and perfection of the
lion city matching my
Issey Miyake shoes and the pseudo-art-deco furniture. Seems somehow
not right. I feel like in the city I'm
suspended in a vast network of personalities, superficiality and
artifice.
When I see a guy get
stabbed at the
ATM, or notice
homeless people or
street gangs and rats, or when I almost get
raped in the
park or find a
dead body on the
river.
I spend my days dealing with things that aren't
real or
palpable-- I study the trade of
commodities like
corn or
pigs and
mortgages, things people
buy and
sell on the
world markets without realizing the essence of them.
The
reality of this myth was destroyed with the
advent of the
railroad in the American
West, and the birth of
commercialism and the
Grapes of Wrath.