Today is the start of the final push. I will sort the last of our trail food, dividing the rest of the granola and gorp into ziplock bags, counting and re-counting the tidy, vacuum-sealed bundles that, with some hot water and small patience, will fill our bellies at the end of some long day.
I will starting packing up the house, boxing art and books and clothes that I won’t see again until snow falls.
I’ll throw a leg over a bike a few more times; when get I do that again, I’ll have to work through the saddle soreness all over again.
I’ll soak in my yoga teacher’s adjustments and guidance in one last, cherished class, then I’ll see what I can work out on my own, down-dogging trailside.
I’ll cash one final paycheck, and I can’t say when or how I’ll get another.
We’re setting out on this adventure for a lot of reasons: there’s the solitude, and the simplicity, and the challenge, and the audacity of it all.
But maybe more than all that, there’s the sea change that it marks. We’ve talked for years now about our vision for the life we want to build: simpler and more self-sustaining; nurturing creativity, making and building and crafting things with our own hands, and actively minimizing the triggers for that subtle greed we all experience in the face of advertising and commercial abundance. We’ve had brilliant ideas about all of it for years now… and we didn’t really do much to bring it about.
Inertia happens, even to the most earnest of dreamers. And it’s especially powerful in those who are content–after all, discomfort is a powerful motivator for change. If you’re comfortable, it’s easy to put off change, even if it’s change for the better. It seems more than a little silly–why ransom big happiness for little?–but, like so many other nonsensical inclinations, that’s human nature.
But we’re nudging ourselves in a new direction, and the gathering momentum is almost palpable.
It’s been amazing to receive enthusiastic support and encouragement from people when they hear our plan–family, friends, even strangers have looked at us with something like awe and wished us well. They also frequently say I wish I could do that, but… And I want to be able to return their good energy, to be able to congratulate them on actuating their own desires.
More than anything, I want them to understand that they can do this, because the perceived obstacles aren’t really what’s standing in the way. It is the very eye that sees those barriers, not the barriers themselves. Change your lens; see ways to make it happen and not the ways you think it can’t, and you’re halfway there.
I’m excited (and intimidated and thrilled/terrified and already a little blissed out) about what we’re about to do. But mostly I still revel in what it feels like to have blown my own mind. That realization, that the can’t and the wish I could weren’t immutable… that is the bright, hard diamond at the heart of this whole undertaking. That’s the gift we’ve given to ourselves, and it’s a gift that can only perpetuate itself, expanding every day into us and our life with new green shoots.