Less

Less.

I have been thinking about less.  Just letting the word hang out in my brain and see what it has to offer me.  To teach me.

I guess I began to focus on it when someone talked about picking a word for the year. That seemed like a good idea, but I don't know that I would make it work nor that I want to mess with having a word for the year. But still I remind myself of the word "less" sometimes because it seems like a good word.

Less is a good idea.

We have been seriously downsizing for three years. It has been crazy. Much has changed, I have been letting go of things until it hurts, but there is still too much stuff.

Less is good.

On several levels of my brain and my heart, I am convinced that I prefer less to more, but it is still so hard to get there. The process is excruciating and exhausting.  So I focus on the benefits, on the idea of less - and how liberating it is.

Less is good.

...

This actually makes me think of a sermon at Brown City Camp many years ago by Dave Engbrecht - about things he had chosen not to be good at. I don't remember many of the things on his list, but I do remember the prinicple he explained by saying that he was unwilling to invest the time and money and energy to be good at certain things (like playing golf, for example) because he knew that if he decided to make that investment, other things would suffer. That important people or projects would end up getting the leftovers of his resources.

I suppose that the idea appealed to me so much because I must have been getting a little weary of the quest for more.  I had always been such a pleaser and so submissive to all those other sermons. The ones that told me I must excel in this and that and everything imaginable. That I must do more. Pray more. Read my Bible more. Give more. Serve more. Be more patient. More faithful. More zealous.  Have more passion and more compassion. Be committed to excellence and success and striving. Always striving. Bah! I am so sick of striving. Where is the good news in that?

More, more, more.

...

And of course, it wasn't just at church that I heard about more. Pretty much everywhere we turn, "more" is the measure of success.  It's not enough to keep up with the Joneses; now we need more than they have.  Certainly more than we already have. More than we need. More than enough.

Oh wait, then there was that whole other sermon about "more than enough." To hear the guy tell about it that weekend and to read his book, we should not be satified with enough. Nope, we serve a God who provides more than enough - so why would we settle for only enough?  Good grief.  Somehow he made it sound good at the time, but it was just one more of the unhealthy things I swallowed.

...

And what about advertising and commercials that are all geared to convince us that we need more?  What a crock.

...

Where is the call for less? That's what I think I need. Certainly less food. Less stuff. Less toys.

Sometimes less is a good idea.

...

Maybe that's why this article caught my attention - this list of things we could do less.  Great ideas. Several from this list jump out at me as being really good places to start in my quest for less.

...

Oh dear; now there are a bunch more ideas flitting through my brain, so many more things to write about, but I think I'll stop right here. 

With less words rather than more.

Daylight and darkness

Feeling subdued this morning. Again. Here we are in southern California with sunshine and warmth. And I'm grateful. But...

But... I just have to think of friends and family back home who are dealing with crap. Where all is not sunshine and warmth. Where life is downright awful. Where there are no easy answers. Where there aren't even ANY answers - easy or otherwise. Where each new day has more than its share of pain and really, really hard stuff to deal with.

Sometimes I wish we were there. OFTEN I wish we were there. To help - although I wouldn't know how to help. I don't have the answers. But just to be there. To lend my/our presence. To give hugs or back scratches. To listen. To cry together.

So what do we do with all that? Do we figure out a way to go back? How do we know?

...

Ah, there's a bit of daylight. Just a bit.  Where all was darkness, finally some faint light.

And with that teeny bit of light I can see the outlines of the mountains. Ah, yes, there are mountains surrounding us. Can't forget the mountains. What do we do about the mountains? Do we stay in our little valley and go on with every day life here - or do we shake things up and find a way up and over these particular mountains to locate somewhere else? Somewhere where we may or may not do more good. Where we may serve a different purpose.

We all have mountains. Mountains sometimes give good gifts - like shelter or beauty or inspiration. Mountains also restrict. Mountains can be dangerous and deadly.  Mountains demand much of us. Courage. Energy. Faith. Wisdom. Perspective.  Patience.

...

I guess I don't have to figure it all out right this minute. I can appreciate the daylight that is creeping into my world and be grateful that darkness turns to dawn yet another day. I do and I am. Oh, yes, I do appreciate daylight and I am grateful when darkness gives way to dawn. 
 

Watching the sunrise... or where I step

Tucked in the valley, I cannot actually see the sun as it rises, but I can see it shining on the mountains around us. It lights up the peaks - first the tall one behind our ridge that I never even noticed before - and then the closer peaks. Slowly the light from the ridge creeps down the slopes until eventually it breaks into our lovely park.  Little splotches here and there. On the tree tops outside my window, then the trunks, and finally hits the ground in little chunks on the lanes and clearings.

Oh, what a glorious process!
...

My friend Nancy Bouwens talks about perspective and asks whether we are focusing on the mud or on the stars.  It reminds me a bit of my current reality. 

Here I am, off on this incredible adventure, fortunate enough to have escaped the Michigan winter and be living in balmy southern California. I am definitely grateful for the privilege and am continually reminded of my blessings. I certainly don't not want to be whiny and complaining.

BUT, some things are still hard. Because this is real life. 

'Tis true that some things are easier because we are here. The warm temperatures allow me to get outside and do more walking which will hopefully have a healing effect on my joints and muscles.

It is also true that some things are harder because we are here - or at least because we are away. There are complicated situations at home that are made much more difficult for us and possibly for others by us not being there in person to care for the physical details of the various situations and responsibilities. It is hard. No question.

Then some things are hard just because they are hard. They are not necessarily any easier or any harder because of our location. It is just that we are living life and life is hard sometimes.

When you depart one time zone for another, move from one climate to another, you don't get to leave all of your problems behind.  Nope; you simply trade one set of problems for another set. Some things get better, some seem worse, and some just go with you wherever you go.

...

While I was reading what Nancy wrote about choosing between the stars and the mud, I realized that I have my own sky or ground scenario.  Yes, I have the positive choice of gazing at the sky.  My "looking at the ground" option might have more to do with focusing on the pickers and other hazards on the ground than with mud. Things that can trip me up and cause me pain. I love, love, LOVE watching the sunshine hit the mountain peaks in the morning and gradually creep down the slopes... I don't so much love the thorns that get stuck in my flip-flops and attack my feet. They are both part of my present reality. Given the current record-breaking drought going on in this area, things probably won't get much more pleasant or healthy underfoot, so wisdom suggests that I pay attention and find ways to protect myself from further injury. At the same time, I will be grateful for the sun lighting up the mountain peaks in succession each morning, for the amazing blue sky during the day, and for the full moon at night. I will continue to appreciate and enjoy them even while exercizing caution about where I step.

...

 

Two weeks

Two weeks ago today we headed out.  We closed up our cabin and drove away.  We said our good-byes and left the snow and cold that is Michigan.

We made it here safely and we are breathing easier.  We have been enjoying much about being here.  We love having temps in the 70's and not having to bundle up.  We love being warmed by the sun. 

However, not all is perfect.  And why would I expect it to be? 

I still don't have as much energy as I wish for.  I am still bothered by knee and ankle injuries so I am unable to walk as much as I hoped to. 

I still seem to have lots of ideas running around in my head that I want to write about, but never quite make it happen. 

I still get restless and fidgety in the evenings.  I still have not fully adjusted to the Pacific Time Zone and have trouble staying awake until a reasonable hour for bedtime.  (Oh, wait; I had that problem on Eastern Time as well!)

So maybe this is the new normal. 
Or maybe we just need a TV so we have something to watch in the evening.  Or maybe we can watch movies on Bob's computer...
Yah, something mindless and entertaining once in awhile.  Sounds about right.

Thankful Thursday: Living in a park

I'm feeling very thankful this morning. 
Thankful for safety across 2500 miles through nine states. 
Thankful for this comfortable rig that is more spacious than I could have imagined. 
Thankful for the blessing of this beautiful place.  Who gets to live in a park?!? *
Thankful for this job opportunity that lets us live where it is warm. 
Thankful for my man - who is willing to work so hard to make this happen, who is such a good driver, and who is patient and understanding about my fears on mountain roads.
...
And I'm very thankful for internet access - an unexpected bonus.

...

* Well, yes, we lived in a park in Michigan, too.  A retreat center.  A beautiful restful place - for which I have always been thankful.  But yes, it is also much warmer here than there right now - so that's even more to be thankful for.

Day Ten: We made it!

We arrived at Kenny Grove Park, Fillmore, CA, a little before noon.   It is really pretty around here. What a pleasant surprise to drive into a verdant valley with orange groves, nurseries and green sod fields after several days and several states of barren countryside.  And trees.  Lots of trees.  The park boasts a variety of cacti. Those bright-colored "balloons" on some of them! Are they fruit* or flower? Is that a jade plant just outside our door? And maybe a geranium entwined with it.  This might be a very good time and a great place to learn more about desert vegetation.

  *My daughter informs me that the prickly pear is quite delicious.

Our spot is somewhere in the middle of the park on the top of a steep hill. Very tight for parking the rig. Even though this is Bob's first experience to attempt such a feat, he managed to get it in place with less than an inch to spare when we open the slider. We even have a storage shed - where we can pack away our snow boots and winter coats!

Now begins the process of settling in and making this little perch our home. Plumbing, mechanical, finding stuff, unpacking, sorting, storing, and getting comfortable. I think we're gonna' like it here.

Day Nine: Last night on the road

A day off. We didn't have to go any certain number of miles today. We didn't stay on course today. We just went where Bob wanted to go, on a mission he has been dreaming of since the conception of this trip. Somewhere with great photo ops.

I mostly wanted to do some reading and some writing. And to buy some groceries. Those wishes fit in rather nicely with the photo quest. 

Then one more night in a camp somewhere in an amazing canyon before checking in at our new home for the winter.

 

Day Eight: - Made it to California!

 

I liked the little KOA we stayed at last night in Kingman, AZ, and felt refreshed and ready for yet another day of travel. That was a nice change from mostly feeling fatigued the last few days.

I wore my hiking sandals today. With socks, but still.  Maybe flip-flops tomorrow?

Climbed to 7200 feet and back down a thousand or two and back up again. Several times. Yep, another ear-popping day!

Made it to California. Wahoo!!! 

Inspection Center. Oops! We forgot NOT to buy fresh produce before entering California.  Let's see; what do we have? A new bag of mini-peppers and one of carrots - both unopened - as well as a banana. We wondered whether we would be allowed to bring them in. Oh wait; the guy waved us through without even asking any questions.

More vegetation than we've seen through a couple states - despite the horrific drought we've been hearing about. I like vegetation.

• Drove through the Mojave Desert pretty much all day - or at least for 200 miles.
• Sign says "Traffic monitored by air craft." Must be true that it is strictly enforced in at least one section of highway because very few trucks passed us there - which is rare.
• A helicopter passed us on one of the mountain roads - or at least most of a helicopter - on the back of a truck. 
• Holy Moses Wash.  Evidently a "wash" is something like an arroyo - or dried up river. Holy Moses Wash was my favorite.
• Warning sign:  Bumps at bridges  Really?  Guess the only thing different about California and other states is that they have warning signs for the notorious rough and bumpy overpass bridges.  How nice of them to let us know.
• 62 degrees!
• We are camped in what looks like a little "parking lot" or maybe a junk yard in the town of Mojave with a flimsy chain link fence a few feet away. On the other side of the fence is the Mojave Air and Space Port - where space shuttles land sometimes. How fun. Oh, yah, we are right by Edwards Air Force Base...
•  Figured out how to change our clocks.  Hadn't bothered until we reached our last time zone.  Well, at least our last one for a few months.

Day Seven: Some more Arizona, the penultimate state

• 'Twas soooooo good to sleep in our own bed, our own place
• The winds have died down and it is much calmer today. Great news to not have the relentless head-wind
• Low energy today. Not pushing myself to write or accomplish anything.
• Lots of ups and downs today. Lots more ear-popping
• Trees!!!
• Flagstaff is beautiful
• Mountain roads make me nervous. Now there's an understatement. 
• Time for some ice cream
• Palm trees!
• Found a truck wash so we can finally get the Michigan dirt off the rig and the de-icer off the steps. Also found a supermarket. 
• Staying in a KOA in Kingman, AZ, and feeling more at home in our rig
• Almost to California!

Day Six: Arizona & feeling at home

• Drove through Albuquerque today and into Arizona
• Ears popping with changes in altitude.  Actually everything popping and making big messes: the ketchup yesterday, the lotion this morning, the Miracle Whip, the mustard...
• We passed an 18-wheeler today. Yep, that is note-worthy.
• Feeling tired today. Back pain again.
• We are staying in our own place tonight. Finally! It feels so good, like coming home
• I am missing the little guys. Need some Face time

Day Five: Land of Enchantment

• Took a few minutes to explore the strange surroundings where we stayed last night in Conway, Texas.  See some of Bob's pictures here.
• Slowed our pace a bit today because we are tired AND because we are nicely ahead of schedule.
• Reading Packing Light by Alison Vesterfelt on my Kindle.  So timely!
• What a great day for tumbleweed!
• Russell's Travel Center.  Car museum - free admission, definitely worth the price. 
• Truck started making a strange sound but performed well.  Maybe it is tired, too.  Bob was careful not to push it too hard and it seemed okay.
• Crossed into New Mexico and Mountain time
• Caught a glimpse of snow-capped mountains in the distance off to the right.  They make me happy.
• Billboard: You trash it; we smash it.  Jacksoncompaction.com
• Stopping for the night just east of Albuquerque

Day Four: Long day

Drove through Oklahoma

Couldn't get internet on my phone; felt frustrated and isolated

Driving through Tulsa and OKC was crazy; civil engineering and construction zone safety seem a bit lacking

Looked for a salad; found fresh veggies and fresh fruit at Love's

Hearing lots of Spanish

Stopped at a little motel in/near Conway, Texas. Cement block construction. Reminds me of a cheap Texas motel in a bad movie.

There is a microwave here so we were able to warm up leftovers rather than go out for dinner.

Thankful Thursday: on loneliness

Adventures can be lonely. Epic journeys come at the price of painful goodbyes and a great sense of distance.

In an unfamiliar little town where you know nobody and barely recognize the language, loneliness seems to lurk in the shadows.

On the Oklahoma prairie, loneliness no longer lurks nor hides, but steps boldly onto center stage assuming a more visible and more audible role in the desolate howling of the wind as it swirls little dust clouds into your eyes.

Connection is vital.

For me to feel connected, while on this journey as well as in daily life, the internet is an invaluable tool. I do love the internet. I am so very grateful to have been born in such a time that at least some of my years could include the connectivity of the world wide web.

Partnership is also vital.

This would not be fun as a solo journey, but because I have a partner, there is shared adventure. We can celebrate together, but we can also lift the other's spirits. Our unique individual attributes complement those of the other to make us stronger together.

So on this potentially lonely Thursday out on a desolate prairie, I am thankful for internet access at least now and then and extremely thankful for my amazing partner - on every mile of the journey.

Day Three: Westward Ho!

• Temperature is climbing slowly. Didn't have to wear coat during the day.
• Sign along road: "Do not drive into smoke." Huh?
• Stopped near Vinita, OK - at a forlorn little Super 8 motel on the wind-swept prairie
• Had to wear coats again and bundle up against the frigid Arctic air
• Decided not to search for a restaurant, but ate leftovers instead. Cold. Because our room had no microwave