Herewith, a brief appreciation of how technology has helped me liberate my inner Luddite.
At the most fundamental level, the advent of telecommuting has made it possible for me to spend extended periods of time in an undisclosed rural location, where I can indulge in a range of low-tech pleasures—from beekeeping to gardening to canning to composting—while continuing to earn my income by providing editorial services to clients in the Big City.
As a novice beekeeper trying to find information about beekeeping methods that did not require the use of “extraordinary (chemical) measures” to keep colonies viable, the web was, until very recently, the sole source of information out there. Through the organic beekeepers’ listserv,
Michael Bush’s beekeeping website,
Phil Chandler’s writings, and many other online resources, I’ve been able to locate enough information to try my hand at organic, top-bar hive beekeeping in ways consistent with my desire to keep in small, simple, sustainable, and green.
The web has also been an amazing source of fellowship. In the old days, beekeeping was bound up with apprenticeship, a skill passed along from one person to another through direct observation. That’s often still the case; beekeeping clubs continue to be a major venue for meeting other beekeepers and sharing knowledge.
Alas, from the reports I hear, too few clubs seem receptive to so-called alternative methods like top-bar hive beekeeping or organic colony management. Fortunately, cyberspace offers a rich portal for communicating with real humans with real experience in these beekeeping methods—and these individuals are generously willing to mentor, explain, demystify, and provide kindhearted support to new beekeepers through the highs, lows, dramas, traumas, mysteries, and thrills of beekeeping. I feel I’m getting something akin to true mentorship through the web, though I’ve yet to meet any of my mentors in person.
One of the hardest parts of beekeeping is leaving the bees behind when the time comes to return to the city; I miss them terribly and feel out of sync with the muddy, grassy, leafy existence I delight in during my rural escapades.
Lucky for me, this problem was solved with a quick Google search that lead me to a beekeeping group right here in Brooklyn. The group includes current and past beekeepers, as well as “bee lovers,” and has made it possible for me to commune a bit with honeybees in my own borough of Brooklyn. I still miss “my” bees, but don’t have to endure total honeybee withdrawal when I’m stuck in town.
I’m not a true Luddite in that I’m not opposed to technological change. But I have what I feel to be a healthy skepticism about the uncritical genuflecting to the digital experience, and I do place a very high value—a premium, in fact—on low- and no-tech pleasures.
As a Luddite 2.0, I view technology as the means to a very simple end: getting out of the city, being with the bees, ruralizing body, mind and soul.