This time one year ago I was without a place of my own for the first time in forty years. Over that twelve months I have lived in my brother's house, a 33 foot RV, a guest cottage on the beach and now back at my brother's.
I have (re) discovered several interesting personal tendencies during that process. Among the more important:
I like my own space.
I have some deeply ingrained habits.
Some of those habits are less than perfect.
I like being alone.
I like the freedom that comes with independence.
I like the freedom that comes with the 'lightness of load'.
The white picket fence, thirty-year mortgage, mow the lawn American dream is a nightmare.
The canvas of my life is about to get splattered with color and texture once again.
Effective immediately.
I am buying dirt. And a couple of cedar trees surrounded by brush. But most importantly I am buying the chance to do something real. For myself. Digging into the future one shovelful at a time.
I guess what I have learned about my soul is that I don't like needing the generosity of others to survive. By now I should be able to do that solo. And by that I mean personal responsibility NOT the charade of the independent self-made man. I deeply appreciate the power of the group and the need for community, but I think it renders to the simple idea that I much prefer to give than to receive. Given the choice in a perfect world (whew!) I consider the valor more sincere in offering a friend in need a couch and a bowl of soup that to accept them. I have been in varying stages of 'need' for over a year and it is time to get back into the 'no-need' game.
So here we go. Later today I will own a tiny lot in a tiny community with the plan of building a tiny home. A two ounce shack to hang my ten gallon hat.
The mistakes I made in the past get a reprieve. All my failed 'art' lost in the maelstrom of the past year has been nothing but practice and preparation.
The slate is clean.
That is about to change.
Time to break ground.
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