Less is Best: Stephanie Mills Offers an Elegant Take on the Simple Life

Henry David Thoreau would surely appreciate the work of ecologist Stephanie Mills. Like Thoreau, Stephanie lives in a small rural home which she helped build, and she too is absorbed in writing about the great issues of her day. Following Thoreau‘s example, she extols the simple life and the joy of living close to nature.
But times have changed in the 150 years since Thoreau penned his thoughts by the placid waters of Walden Pond -- things, literally, aren‘t so simple any more. Today, there‘s a greater urgency to the “less is more“ message, since Mills is writing in a time afflicted by such soul-deadening concerns as urban sprawl, consumerism run amok, and overpopulation.
And this time around, Mills has enlisted the thoughts of the Greek philosopher Epicurus, combining his wisdom from 300 B.C. with her own 21st century vision to produce *Epicurean Simplicity,* a guide for living based on a celebration of the senses, friendship, and a love of nature.

DOWN TO EARTH
Blessed by both luck and intellect, Mills became an advocate of the simple life after moving to Leelanau County in 1984. She is the author of four other books, including *Whatever Happened to Ecology,* *In Praise of Nature,* *In Service of the Wild* and *Turning Away from Technology.* She was also acclaimed as “one of the world‘s leading visionaries“ by Utne Magazine in 1996.
Although that distinction sounds intimidating, in person Mills is a down-to-earth soul who says she makes “no claim to be a perfect simple liver.“
“But one thing I‘ve found in my life is that you can achieve a wonderful freedom if you just reduce your wants,“ she notes. “There‘s a Bushman saying, ‘Want not, lack not‘, and I‘ve found that to be true in my own life.“
Mills‘ life as a writer began after making national headlines in 1969 with her commencement speech at Mill College, California. Her speech warned of the perils of overpopulation and its toll on the earth‘s natural resources, calling rosy views of the future “a hoax.“ She vowed that she would never have children and spent the next year working as a campus organizer for Planned Parenthood, discussing the threat of the population explosion and the need for birth control.
Mills went on to become the editor of EarthTimes, a San Francisco-based environmental magazine. She spent the next 15 years in the Bay Area, writing for publications such as the CoEvolution Quarterly, Earth and Cafifornia Tomorrow.

A NEW LIFE
As she notes in *Epicurean Simplicity,* marriage brought her to Leelanau County and a new awareness of the simple life after making a home out in the country.
Part memoir and part rediscovered philosophy, each page of Mills‘ book reveals a jewel of thought.
Consider this passage, for instance, which reflects on how to cope with the changing nature of the earth, which Mills wrote upon the death of her mother:

“Nothing lasts forever, Stephanie,“ said a friend, a Zen bridegroom on his wedding day, in response to my tactless wish that this third marriage of his might endure. Stars collapse upon themselves; mountains are worn down; every species eventually becomes extinct or vanishes into something different. Climate changes, empires devolve and crumble, different generations of gods know their twilight, hemlines rise and fall, the flesh wrinkles and sags, the goodies all get eaten. The impermanence of the universe is manifest, inescapable. I know that, yet I am immoderately attached to this life, these pleasures, this place.“

“This place“ is Mills small home which she helped build on 35 acres of a former Christmas tree farm outside Maple City. The home has served as Mills‘ ark of refuge from a world deluged by consumerism and urban sprawl. Although she has taken some care to safeguard her privacy in her book by disguising the names of local communities, a few details about her home offer an insight into simple living.
“The house is just the right size:“ she writes, “720 square feet, with a single-pitch roof. The tall wall, 20 feet high, faces south with three good-sized windows and a sliding glass door. The short wall, 10 feet high, presents a small face to the north.“
Mills heats her home with a sheet steel wood stove and a circulating fan, aided by insulated shades on her windows. “My house boats electric lighting and indoor plumbing. Other modern conveniences include a refrigerator, a range, and a fuel-conserving demand-activated water heater, all of which burn bottled propane.“
Claiming to have “far too many books,“ Mills doesn‘t own a television set. “My home is furnished largely with books and gifts; there‘s the hand-me-down furniture from Mom and Dad, photographs and drawings done by friends...“ She says she‘s used the same pots, pans, lamps and dishes since fixing up her first apartment after college in 1969. What‘s become most important to her are personal things which reflect her own past, or the contributions of friends and family.

EVOLVING A PHILOSOPHY
Through the years Mills has evolved a philosophy of living lightly upon the earth, nourished by such landmark books as “Voluntary Simplicity“ and “Small is Beautiful.“ She harkens back to the time of the original simple livers: America‘s farmers. “Their way of life was to raise what you can on your own, fix things, mend your clothes, and don‘t throw anything away,“ she says. “I think that‘s the bedrock of this way of life.“
By contrast, she notes that the consumer lifestyle advocates a mania for buying new things, even when an endless demand for products threatens the survival of the human race. As a small example, what happens when 6 billion human beings aim for the American standard of two cars in every home?
Mills says that consumerism places a value on material goods that feeds into the worst of the human spirit. “Consumers“ become so connected to shopping that they get out of touch with nature, friends and family. People get in over their heads with credit card bills, buying things they don‘t need. Young people fall into the same traps as their parents, locked into lives filled with debt in pursuit of an endless range of gadgets and vehicles.
Mills says that a simpler, nature-oriented lifestyle is a better way of living that‘s less ruinous to the earth and one‘s personal finances.
“We are natural beings and we can‘t live apart from this planet,“ she notes. “If we harm the planet, we harm ourselves.“

ANCIENT WISDOM
Mills found a kindred soul in the writings of the Greek philosopher Epicurus, who advocated a life based on sensory pleasures, simplicity and friendship. For her, these pleasures include a love of art, literature, history, philosophy and nature.
By “sensory pleasures“ Epicurus didn‘t mean a hedonistic lifestyle of overindulgence; he and his disciples took delight in things which could be enjoyed by the five senses, such as the beauty of a flower. Living mostly on bread and water, a peak experience for these sensualists might be an occasional taste of a flavorful cheese.
“Epicurus and his followers understood that reducing one‘s wants and needs to a minimum was the likeliest way to live the unpained life, so they lived quite simply,“ Mills writes.
Other philosophers, among them the Buddha and Ram Dass, have advocated similar lifestyles. For Buddha, life was about choosing the “middle path“ of moderation in all things; whereas Ram Dass advocates a “be here now“ philosophy of living in the present and not worrying about the quest for material things.
For Mills, a love of sensory pleasures comes through with vivid images in her writing, as in this account of cross-country skiing home in February:

“I crossed Rob‘s land and continued toward another neighbor‘s woodlot. Freezing fogs the night before had coated the bare trees‘ topmost branches and twigs with ice. The wind was disquieting in the trees, sending glassy sheaths shivering down to the snow-covered ground. That fog had also lacquered pine needles; fine ice hypodermics glinted in the blue shadows at the base of the evergreens.“

BE HERE NOW
Mills isn‘t advocating Epicuruean extremes of living on barley meal and water, however. Even she has her weakness for products of the consumer age: books and a funky selection of shoes and boots fit for everything from chopping wood to cross-country skiing.
She also admits that it was tough to leave the culturally-dazzling opportunities of San Francisco for Maple City, and that there‘s something nourishing about visiting a place like New York City, which has its own sense of community expressed in its neighborhoods.
Yet on balance, she prefers the “heartland insularity of the upper Midwest“ to those more dazzling places because life in Leelanau County has allowed her to get closer to the things which she feels are of the greatest value.
“I make no claims to being a perfect simple liver,“ she notes. “I can understand very well how a young person growing up out in the country might feel deprived and want to head for the bright lights and the big city. I had the good fortune to live in a big city for a number of years, but there comes a time in your life when you want something more.“
Today, she finds a community of like-minded souls in Northern Michigan, united by such commonalities as memberships in food co-ops and buying clubs, an interest in recycling and alternative energy, and a connection to the counter-culture which arose in the ‘60s along with the “back to the land“ movement.
“That counter-culture still exists,“ she says. “We‘re getting middled aged now, but there‘s this new generation of people in their 20s who are really coming on now with the same values.“

Stephanie Mills will sign copies of her new book, *Epicurean Simplicity* at Horizon Books in Traverse City this Saturday, April 20 from 2-4 p.m. View On Our Website