Every journey involves many crossroads. They’re inevitable.
That, and the unknown.
You aren’t sure when you start out, though you may have an inkling, “what happens if….?”
And then “….” comes to pass, and you’re there, a crossroads.
This is the hardest, most rewarding part of a journey.
Why?
It requires reflection. Trust. You have to loosen your grip on what you pictured, make a choice, and move into what is.
It’s a great way to get to know your inner characters: in my case, the stubborn child-like being who doesn’t want to deviate from the plan, is causing the biggest ruckus. When I go deeper, ask why, there’s no real good answer besides, this isn’t what we planned for or expected.
The truth is, when we started out, we had no idea how it would go. None of us do.
We’re in Wyoming now. Chad rejoined the workforce so we could bulk up savings and continue our unconventional nomadic life. We picked Wyoming because of its wild remoteness. This way, we get the best of both worlds.
But there’s also a harsh reality: winter. We simply won’t survive the brutal sub-zero negative temps in our tiny home.
So? We’re buying a house.
We’re under contract for the cutest sweetest home, a historic gem built over 100 years ago. Priced at a fraction of most homes in the United States, our plan is to live in it in the winter, and turn it into a short-term rental the rest of the year.
This is super exciting. My inner designer is geeking out on all the options. A nice leather couch, some cowhide rugs, plants and soft crisp white sheets. Ceramic dishes, and wooden shelves. Moroccan poufs, my acoustic guitar and banjo, a bookshelf loaded with the best…
But also, I don’t want to. Specifically, we just – just! – got rid of everything. I’m reveling in how good it feels to not be bogged down with things.
I’ve experienced such sweet unexpected relief that’s accompanied letting go of the weight and responsibility that comes with ownership. There’s such a strong correlation between thoughts and things, and my thoughts have been enjoyable – they feel more authentically me – since letting go.
Not to compare myself to spiritual figures in any way (insert eye roll emoji, please!), but it’s something many of them find solace in as well. Purposeful simplicity. There must be something to it, right?
Thus, having a shopping cart weighed down with furniture, not to mention all the appliances, gadgets and gizmos we’ll have to get… ugh!
It feels like a regression, and I think that’s the part I’m struggling with. It feels like I’m being lured back into a trap, even though I know I’m not.
And… don’t think I’m missing the irony. We’re taught to covet new things. Things are supposed to make us happy, and here I am. Complaining, “ew… I have to buy new stuff and own stuff…poor me!”
Human beings: we’re such odd creatures, aren’t we?
TRAVEL & ADVENTURE 