Since January of 2014 I've been living as a nomad; house sitting, pet sitting, a short term sublet and a few days in a motel between house sits. I have a wonderful gypsy life that doesn't include a stable place to live. In the past couple weeks two friends remarked that they didn't think they could live like that. It's definitely not for every body...but what is?
My favorite aspect of being a nomad...walking edges as a daily practice.
Curiousity, pushing edges and taking risks is an innate part of being human. Watch a child for an hour or two and you'll see his instinctive need to taste, touch, explore and connect to the world around him. By the time we're adults that yearning to explore our edges is socialized and civilized out of many of us. In its place we're given the need to pursue the illusions of safety and security.
I can't help but notice the countries where the mirage of security and safety are most prevalent are also the places were people invent things like extreme sports and adventure vacations. The more access we have to comfort, the more driven we are to create ways to set our senses on fire and our hearts pounding.
Snow boarding after being dropped out of a helicopter or ingesting the latest designer club drug is an odd way to engage our edge by simultaneously taking a risk and trying to control the risk. The drug will wear off. The amazing snow board run ends when you reach the bottom of the mountain. Neither experience may have any larger impact on your life beyond bragging rights or being able say "I did that."
Sometimes that's enough. Sometimes it's not. The thing about those edges that makes our hearts beat faster is our engagement with the unknown. The unknown is the primordial, unformed, anything could happen place that reminds us we are not really in control of squat. Most of us are both attracted to and repelled by the unknown.
We plan. We schedule. We have goals. Those things aren't inherently detrimental, but our attachment to them often is. Unless we consciously hold them lightly, our plans, goals and schedules reinforce the illusion that we know what is going to happen next. That process of shoring up the mirage of safety and security may be the ultimate game of make believe.
We schedule.We plan. Our attachment to those plans lets us pretend we know how this day is going to unfold. But almost every day there are bits of random where the unknown comes to visit. As long as those intrusions are small and limited in scope, we can hold the unknown as a belief or idea and not an operating principle.
When I decided to throw where I'm sleeping this week up in the air, I invited the unknown to become my traveling companion. Impermanence and change are no longer ideas or beliefs that I can keep at a comfortable distance. Impermanence sits on my pillow when I wake up in the morning. Change slips into my duffel bag beside my tee shirts each time I move to a new house sit.
Home, as the familiar place where our stuff lives, can be both a source of comfort and identity. Part of how we define ourselves often includes where we live and how we express ourselves in that space. The solidness of home adds to our sense of stability and security.
In the first couple months of throwing "home" up in the air, I had a powerful flash of clarity. I could either learn to live in trust or spend a lot of time worrying, stressing and panicking over things I cound't predict, anticipate or control.
Simple, not easy. Uncertainty can be both amazing and terrifying! Having the unknown as my travel buddy changed and is changing my level of presence moment to moment. My ego still wants to get attached to plans. Walking the edge of change and impermanence on a daily basis, it's easier to let go of that story and be here, rather than skidding off into next week.
Clarity is easier when I'm more present. I hadn't realized how much my body being here while my mind and emotions were in last year or next week cluttered my ability to make decisions in the moment. When I'm more here, even the pull of the past or my own wounding is just part of the moment. No more or less important than anything else. So the choices I make are more often in line with who I am now rather than who I was.
Living with something as basic as where I'm sleeping in a constant state of flux I can't help but see how changeable everything else is too. Choosing not to feed my egos need to predict, anticipate or know what's going to happen lets me be surprised...by myself, by other people and by how things can seem disastrous one moment and fall neatly into place the next.
There's tremendous freedom in traveling with the unknown. That freedoms is bigger than not being tethered by a lease, a mortgage or the need to take care of the stuff I've accumulated. When home keeps changing, change can become home.
My favorite aspect of being a nomad...walking edges as a daily practice.
Curiousity, pushing edges and taking risks is an innate part of being human. Watch a child for an hour or two and you'll see his instinctive need to taste, touch, explore and connect to the world around him. By the time we're adults that yearning to explore our edges is socialized and civilized out of many of us. In its place we're given the need to pursue the illusions of safety and security.
I can't help but notice the countries where the mirage of security and safety are most prevalent are also the places were people invent things like extreme sports and adventure vacations. The more access we have to comfort, the more driven we are to create ways to set our senses on fire and our hearts pounding.
Snow boarding after being dropped out of a helicopter or ingesting the latest designer club drug is an odd way to engage our edge by simultaneously taking a risk and trying to control the risk. The drug will wear off. The amazing snow board run ends when you reach the bottom of the mountain. Neither experience may have any larger impact on your life beyond bragging rights or being able say "I did that."
Sometimes that's enough. Sometimes it's not. The thing about those edges that makes our hearts beat faster is our engagement with the unknown. The unknown is the primordial, unformed, anything could happen place that reminds us we are not really in control of squat. Most of us are both attracted to and repelled by the unknown.
We plan. We schedule. We have goals. Those things aren't inherently detrimental, but our attachment to them often is. Unless we consciously hold them lightly, our plans, goals and schedules reinforce the illusion that we know what is going to happen next. That process of shoring up the mirage of safety and security may be the ultimate game of make believe.
We schedule.We plan. Our attachment to those plans lets us pretend we know how this day is going to unfold. But almost every day there are bits of random where the unknown comes to visit. As long as those intrusions are small and limited in scope, we can hold the unknown as a belief or idea and not an operating principle.
When I decided to throw where I'm sleeping this week up in the air, I invited the unknown to become my traveling companion. Impermanence and change are no longer ideas or beliefs that I can keep at a comfortable distance. Impermanence sits on my pillow when I wake up in the morning. Change slips into my duffel bag beside my tee shirts each time I move to a new house sit.
Home, as the familiar place where our stuff lives, can be both a source of comfort and identity. Part of how we define ourselves often includes where we live and how we express ourselves in that space. The solidness of home adds to our sense of stability and security.
In the first couple months of throwing "home" up in the air, I had a powerful flash of clarity. I could either learn to live in trust or spend a lot of time worrying, stressing and panicking over things I cound't predict, anticipate or control.
Simple, not easy. Uncertainty can be both amazing and terrifying! Having the unknown as my travel buddy changed and is changing my level of presence moment to moment. My ego still wants to get attached to plans. Walking the edge of change and impermanence on a daily basis, it's easier to let go of that story and be here, rather than skidding off into next week.
Clarity is easier when I'm more present. I hadn't realized how much my body being here while my mind and emotions were in last year or next week cluttered my ability to make decisions in the moment. When I'm more here, even the pull of the past or my own wounding is just part of the moment. No more or less important than anything else. So the choices I make are more often in line with who I am now rather than who I was.
Living with something as basic as where I'm sleeping in a constant state of flux I can't help but see how changeable everything else is too. Choosing not to feed my egos need to predict, anticipate or know what's going to happen lets me be surprised...by myself, by other people and by how things can seem disastrous one moment and fall neatly into place the next.
There's tremendous freedom in traveling with the unknown. That freedoms is bigger than not being tethered by a lease, a mortgage or the need to take care of the stuff I've accumulated. When home keeps changing, change can become home.
What if you had children?
ReplyDeleteI don't have children, so I don't know. Although I can see how having children could be an edge walk in itself!
DeleteLove this Raven! Your words always prompt me to think and feel; that's my definition of great writing. I've been looking at my lifestyle in partnership with Sally, our house, all the ' stuff ' of a conventional partnership.
ReplyDeleteA big part of me wants to be freed of the stuff, the mortgage etc. Another part values the safety and grounding energy of the predictability of ' home ' I value that ' walking the edge' - it's vital - like air, like water!
Anne
Thanx Anne. Yeah, we need those comfort caves to integrate, process, rest and rejuvenate....and the line between comfort zone and rut is beyond fine. Pushing our edges is a crucial aspect of personal and collective evolution.
Delete