August 10, 2004
The sun is starting its ascent, up from the darkness of the other side of the earth. A fresh morning is still just a gradual brightening on the horizon. Any minute now, the rays of new light will glance off the remains of an old existence, instantly transforming the vestige into a happy memory behind me.
Our home is being assessed daily, by people looking for their own bright future. Our home will be their holy grail, to transform by their labors into their favorite flavor of dream. Our gift to the eventual buyers is a lovely home to envelop them. Their gift to us will be the freedom to roam and experiment and sample new flavors of dreams until we choose our favorite. I’d like a chocolate home on a blueberry beach with a raspberry mountain behind it, a hot fudge lawn and a big strawberry for a chimney!
The joy is seeping back into me, seeping through the cracks torn in my heart by temporarily losing my sense of security. I don’t want to feel as if it’s the home that anchors and shelters me. Even when I find myself in my own home again, I want to feel anchored on the planet and sheltered by the Creator. There is no loss, no possessiveness, under those conditions. I am always home, always cared for. What a peaceful, secure, wealthy way to live! That sounds like a chocolate blueberry hot fudge life to me.
* * * * * *
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
A HEART AT PEACE
August 9, 2004
Hi everyone,
For those who became concerned, here is an update. Three days later, I am feeling pretty much fine. I've had a bothersome mitral valve problem since I was young, so this episode was not reallly a surprise. The intensity and duration were the surprise. I attribute that partially to the stress of what we are doing, and the doctor says that my thyroid was contributing to the problem at this point.
The ol' thyroid is now under better control and I'm experimenting with new mindsets and attitudes of perception that will result in greater relaxation during the changes.
All is well. All will continue to be well. Everything is in its right place. For some reason, I am at peace with the perfection of absolutely everything. Perhaps the health crisis created a context within which our personal instability looks like a piece of cake. No matter what the reason, I am grateful for reprieve from anxiety.
* * * * * *
Hi everyone,
For those who became concerned, here is an update. Three days later, I am feeling pretty much fine. I've had a bothersome mitral valve problem since I was young, so this episode was not reallly a surprise. The intensity and duration were the surprise. I attribute that partially to the stress of what we are doing, and the doctor says that my thyroid was contributing to the problem at this point.
The ol' thyroid is now under better control and I'm experimenting with new mindsets and attitudes of perception that will result in greater relaxation during the changes.
All is well. All will continue to be well. Everything is in its right place. For some reason, I am at peace with the perfection of absolutely everything. Perhaps the health crisis created a context within which our personal instability looks like a piece of cake. No matter what the reason, I am grateful for reprieve from anxiety.
* * * * * *
Sunday, August 08, 2004
Diagnosis: Exposure to E.R.
August 8, 2004
The hospital emergency room is no place for a sick person.
I spent most of yesterday there, after experiencing harsh chest pains. When it became hard to breathe, concensus dictated that I should make the dreaded trek. As I suspected, it did me very little good except to provide evidence that I was not having a heart attack. My mitral valve (in the heart) was acting up, and so was my thyroid, and that combination gave me trouble. I dread getting the bill.
An interesting development in the saga of the heart, was that I collapsed into bed at 8:00 the night before - highly unusual for a night owl like me - and felt some chest pains then. About an hour later I was awakened by a rare phone call from Dave of the No Code blog (see link to the left of this article). He is an ER Nurse and Physician Assistant, who tells some pretty funny stories from the ER. His latest is about patients who can’t answer the simplest intake questions accurately. We talked for an hour, and I went back to bed.
The next morning, I was in the ER myself. During intake, I was trying to get enough breath and trying to deal with pain, and still figure out my social security number and whether I’m pregnant or take drugs or feel safe in my home. Inwardly I was laughing at the scenario, because I couldn’t think of the accurate answers to several of those basic questions. I told her I hadn’t had an episode of pain like this before, then a few minutes later told her I’d had pain the night before, and she sharply asked “Didn’t you just say you’d never ….?” If only Dave could see me now, I was thinking! I was half drifting into sleep during the whole event, oddly, and it looked pretty comical from where I was drifting.
Several tests were performed, and then a radiologist took me down to X-ray my chest. He was a friendly fellow who seemed intent on planting a suggestion that I might have pneumonia, of all things. I was chilled by his strange focus. I was fainting from a vaso-vegal response after having my blood drawn, as he tried to stand me up for the x-ray. He said “Maybe you have pneumonia, because I have a lot of people who can’t stand up because of pneumonia.” Then he filled the time telling me about how he also faints after blood draws, and how pneumonia made it worse. On the way back through the ER doors, he told me again that some of the reasons I might be feeling poorly are this, that and pneumonia. So bizarre! I really wanted to strongly counter his vibe of wishing pneumonia on me, so I stated loudly, “But I don’t have it.”
Then hours passed with no activity. I was amazed that at no point did anyone offer me water. We live in a desert, and drinking water is necessary on an hourly basis. How could something so basic be overlooked, here in a supposed bastion of health? Gary went and got us some water eventually. Mid-afternoon rolled around, and nobody had offered me any food. Was it really good practice to let an already-compromised person go without food as well? Half an hour after asking, they brought me this: A sandwich of processed turkey and processed cheese (which smelled rancid) on very dry nutritionless white bread. No lettuce, nothing healthful, and again no water. I had to peel off the sour-smelling cheese and throw away the week-old bread. I just ate the tasteless turkey.
The nurses were very pleasant, and the new young doctor seemed to be trying his best to think up something useful to tell me. I was just astounded, though, to see the utter absence of attention to wellness. No water, not interest in feeding me, then miserable material to eat which was almost worse than not eating. Most likely they were short-staffed like all hospitals.
When I started regaining my strength, I started getting bored. I found that I could make the little heartbeat patterns on the monitor make interesting shapes when I talked or held my breath or wiggled in the bed. That was borderline fun.
I finally checked myself out Against Medical Orders, because there was no reason to stay. They kept saying “Just a little longer, and the test results will be back and the doctor will see you again.” More hours passed. I had already had a long talk with him, and gotten all the pertinent information. There were patients lining the hallway of the ER on stretchers, and here I was taking up a bed for no reason at all. My roommate was begging for a private room, they had none to offer, and I was eager to bolt. My nurse promised they would call me if the final tests showed anything negative.
Nobody called, but I’m sure I know what the tests would have shown. Malnourishment and dehydration! But certainly not pneumonia.
* * * * * *
The hospital emergency room is no place for a sick person.
I spent most of yesterday there, after experiencing harsh chest pains. When it became hard to breathe, concensus dictated that I should make the dreaded trek. As I suspected, it did me very little good except to provide evidence that I was not having a heart attack. My mitral valve (in the heart) was acting up, and so was my thyroid, and that combination gave me trouble. I dread getting the bill.
An interesting development in the saga of the heart, was that I collapsed into bed at 8:00 the night before - highly unusual for a night owl like me - and felt some chest pains then. About an hour later I was awakened by a rare phone call from Dave of the No Code blog (see link to the left of this article). He is an ER Nurse and Physician Assistant, who tells some pretty funny stories from the ER. His latest is about patients who can’t answer the simplest intake questions accurately. We talked for an hour, and I went back to bed.
The next morning, I was in the ER myself. During intake, I was trying to get enough breath and trying to deal with pain, and still figure out my social security number and whether I’m pregnant or take drugs or feel safe in my home. Inwardly I was laughing at the scenario, because I couldn’t think of the accurate answers to several of those basic questions. I told her I hadn’t had an episode of pain like this before, then a few minutes later told her I’d had pain the night before, and she sharply asked “Didn’t you just say you’d never ….?” If only Dave could see me now, I was thinking! I was half drifting into sleep during the whole event, oddly, and it looked pretty comical from where I was drifting.
Several tests were performed, and then a radiologist took me down to X-ray my chest. He was a friendly fellow who seemed intent on planting a suggestion that I might have pneumonia, of all things. I was chilled by his strange focus. I was fainting from a vaso-vegal response after having my blood drawn, as he tried to stand me up for the x-ray. He said “Maybe you have pneumonia, because I have a lot of people who can’t stand up because of pneumonia.” Then he filled the time telling me about how he also faints after blood draws, and how pneumonia made it worse. On the way back through the ER doors, he told me again that some of the reasons I might be feeling poorly are this, that and pneumonia. So bizarre! I really wanted to strongly counter his vibe of wishing pneumonia on me, so I stated loudly, “But I don’t have it.”
Then hours passed with no activity. I was amazed that at no point did anyone offer me water. We live in a desert, and drinking water is necessary on an hourly basis. How could something so basic be overlooked, here in a supposed bastion of health? Gary went and got us some water eventually. Mid-afternoon rolled around, and nobody had offered me any food. Was it really good practice to let an already-compromised person go without food as well? Half an hour after asking, they brought me this: A sandwich of processed turkey and processed cheese (which smelled rancid) on very dry nutritionless white bread. No lettuce, nothing healthful, and again no water. I had to peel off the sour-smelling cheese and throw away the week-old bread. I just ate the tasteless turkey.
The nurses were very pleasant, and the new young doctor seemed to be trying his best to think up something useful to tell me. I was just astounded, though, to see the utter absence of attention to wellness. No water, not interest in feeding me, then miserable material to eat which was almost worse than not eating. Most likely they were short-staffed like all hospitals.
When I started regaining my strength, I started getting bored. I found that I could make the little heartbeat patterns on the monitor make interesting shapes when I talked or held my breath or wiggled in the bed. That was borderline fun.
I finally checked myself out Against Medical Orders, because there was no reason to stay. They kept saying “Just a little longer, and the test results will be back and the doctor will see you again.” More hours passed. I had already had a long talk with him, and gotten all the pertinent information. There were patients lining the hallway of the ER on stretchers, and here I was taking up a bed for no reason at all. My roommate was begging for a private room, they had none to offer, and I was eager to bolt. My nurse promised they would call me if the final tests showed anything negative.
Nobody called, but I’m sure I know what the tests would have shown. Malnourishment and dehydration! But certainly not pneumonia.
* * * * * *
Diagnosis: Exposure to E.R.
August 8, 2004
The hospital emergency room is no place for a sick person.
I spent most of yesterday there, after experiencing harsh chest pains. When it became hard to breathe, concensus dictated that I should make the dreaded trek. As I suspected, it did me very little good except to provide evidence that I was not having a heart attack. My mitral valve (in the heart) was acting up, and so was my thyroid, and that combination gave me trouble. I dread getting the bill.
An interesting development in the saga of the heart, was that I collapsed into bed at 8:00 the night before - highly unusual for a night owl like me - and felt some chest pains then. About an hour later I was awakened by a rare phone call from Dave of the No Code blog (see link to the left of this article). He is an ER Nurse and Physician Assistant, who tells some pretty funny stories from the ER. His latest is about patients who can’t answer the simplest intake questions accurately. We talked for an hour, and I went back to bed.
The next morning, I was in the ER myself. During intake, I was trying to get enough breath and trying to deal with pain, and still figure out my social security number and whether I’m pregnant or take drugs or feel safe in my home. Inwardly I was laughing at the scenario, because I couldn’t think of the accurate answers to several of those basic questions. I told her I hadn’t had an episode of pain like this before, then a few minutes later told her I’d had pain the night before, and she sharply asked “Didn’t you just say you’d never ….?” If only Dave could see me now, I was thinking! I was half drifting into sleep during the whole event, oddly, and it looked pretty comical from where I was drifting.
Several tests were performed, and then a radiologist took me down to X-ray my chest. He was a friendly fellow who seemed intent on planting a suggestion that I might have pneumonia, of all things. I was chilled by his strange focus. I was fainting from a vaso-vegal response after having my blood drawn, as he tried to stand me up for the x-ray. He said “Maybe you have pneumonia, because I have a lot of people who can’t stand up because of pneumonia.” Then he filled the time telling me about how he also faints after blood draws, and how pneumonia made it worse. On the way back through the ER doors, he told me again that some of the reasons I might be feeling poorly are this, that and pneumonia. So bizarre! I really wanted to strongly counter his vibe of wishing pneumonia on me, so I stated loudly, “But I don’t have it.”
Then hours passed with no activity. I was amazed that at no point did anyone offer me water. We live in a desert, and drinking water is necessary on an hourly basis. How could something so basic be overlooked, here in a supposed bastion of health? Gary went and got us some water eventually. Mid-afternoon rolled around, and nobody had offered me any food. Was it really good practice to let an already-compromised person go without food as well? Half an hour after asking, they brought me this: A sandwich of processed turkey and processed cheese (which smelled rancid) on very dry nutritionless white bread. No lettuce, nothing healthful, and again no water. I had to peel off the sour-smelling cheese and throw away the week-old bread. I just ate the tasteless turkey.
The nurses were very pleasant, and the new young doctor seemed to be trying his best to think up something useful to tell me. I was just astounded, though, to see the utter absence of attention to wellness. No water, not interest in feeding me, then miserable material to eat which was almost worse than not eating. Most likely they were short-staffed like all hospitals.
When I started regaining my strength, I started getting bored. I found that I could make the little heartbeat patterns on the monitor make interesting shapes when I talked or held my breath or wiggled in the bed. That was borderline fun.
I finally checked myself out Against Medical Orders, because there was no reason to stay. They kept saying “Just a little longer, and the test results will be back and the doctor will see you again.” More hours passed. I had already had a long talk with him, and gotten all the pertinent information. There were patients lining the hallway of the ER on stretchers, and here I was taking up a bed for no reason at all. My roommate was begging for a private room, they had none to offer, and I was eager to bolt. My nurse promised they would call me if the final tests showed anything negative.
Nobody called, but I’m sure I know what the tests would have shown. Malnourishment and dehydration! But certainly not pneumonia.
* * * * * *
The hospital emergency room is no place for a sick person.
I spent most of yesterday there, after experiencing harsh chest pains. When it became hard to breathe, concensus dictated that I should make the dreaded trek. As I suspected, it did me very little good except to provide evidence that I was not having a heart attack. My mitral valve (in the heart) was acting up, and so was my thyroid, and that combination gave me trouble. I dread getting the bill.
An interesting development in the saga of the heart, was that I collapsed into bed at 8:00 the night before - highly unusual for a night owl like me - and felt some chest pains then. About an hour later I was awakened by a rare phone call from Dave of the No Code blog (see link to the left of this article). He is an ER Nurse and Physician Assistant, who tells some pretty funny stories from the ER. His latest is about patients who can’t answer the simplest intake questions accurately. We talked for an hour, and I went back to bed.
The next morning, I was in the ER myself. During intake, I was trying to get enough breath and trying to deal with pain, and still figure out my social security number and whether I’m pregnant or take drugs or feel safe in my home. Inwardly I was laughing at the scenario, because I couldn’t think of the accurate answers to several of those basic questions. I told her I hadn’t had an episode of pain like this before, then a few minutes later told her I’d had pain the night before, and she sharply asked “Didn’t you just say you’d never ….?” If only Dave could see me now, I was thinking! I was half drifting into sleep during the whole event, oddly, and it looked pretty comical from where I was drifting.
Several tests were performed, and then a radiologist took me down to X-ray my chest. He was a friendly fellow who seemed intent on planting a suggestion that I might have pneumonia, of all things. I was chilled by his strange focus. I was fainting from a vaso-vegal response after having my blood drawn, as he tried to stand me up for the x-ray. He said “Maybe you have pneumonia, because I have a lot of people who can’t stand up because of pneumonia.” Then he filled the time telling me about how he also faints after blood draws, and how pneumonia made it worse. On the way back through the ER doors, he told me again that some of the reasons I might be feeling poorly are this, that and pneumonia. So bizarre! I really wanted to strongly counter his vibe of wishing pneumonia on me, so I stated loudly, “But I don’t have it.”
Then hours passed with no activity. I was amazed that at no point did anyone offer me water. We live in a desert, and drinking water is necessary on an hourly basis. How could something so basic be overlooked, here in a supposed bastion of health? Gary went and got us some water eventually. Mid-afternoon rolled around, and nobody had offered me any food. Was it really good practice to let an already-compromised person go without food as well? Half an hour after asking, they brought me this: A sandwich of processed turkey and processed cheese (which smelled rancid) on very dry nutritionless white bread. No lettuce, nothing healthful, and again no water. I had to peel off the sour-smelling cheese and throw away the week-old bread. I just ate the tasteless turkey.
The nurses were very pleasant, and the new young doctor seemed to be trying his best to think up something useful to tell me. I was just astounded, though, to see the utter absence of attention to wellness. No water, not interest in feeding me, then miserable material to eat which was almost worse than not eating. Most likely they were short-staffed like all hospitals.
When I started regaining my strength, I started getting bored. I found that I could make the little heartbeat patterns on the monitor make interesting shapes when I talked or held my breath or wiggled in the bed. That was borderline fun.
I finally checked myself out Against Medical Orders, because there was no reason to stay. They kept saying “Just a little longer, and the test results will be back and the doctor will see you again.” More hours passed. I had already had a long talk with him, and gotten all the pertinent information. There were patients lining the hallway of the ER on stretchers, and here I was taking up a bed for no reason at all. My roommate was begging for a private room, they had none to offer, and I was eager to bolt. My nurse promised they would call me if the final tests showed anything negative.
Nobody called, but I’m sure I know what the tests would have shown. Malnourishment and dehydration! But certainly not pneumonia.
* * * * * *
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
Introduction
Hi Everyone!
This blog was created to follow our adventures as Gary and I carefully figure out how to radically change our life. We are tired of the "normal" way of life, wherein we must make large amounts of money in order to pay our mortgage and bills and have lots of posessions. After years of reading about it and wondering about it, we are now planning and doing it. What is "it"? We are simplifying our lifestyle, streamlining our needs, and becoming far more self-sufficient. We have sold our gallery, are preparing to sell our home, and will emerge debt-free.
Without all those encumbrances, we will be free. Free to follow our whims and dreams, free to be blown by the winds of Grace to where we are needed, free to be moved as naturally as the Flow of Life flows.
The plan requires that several crucial decisions be made. We have recently been to New Zealand (www.nhne.com/specialreports/bw-newzealand) , and crave the beautiful clear atmosphere of that country. There are possibilities within the U.S. that we are considering. How it will shape up in the long run remains to be seen.
Stay tuned for our adventures! I hope to hear from some of you... comments are very much welcomed. Feedback is a fine thing. All of us humans need one another, so I welcome your participation in this blog.
with love to all,
Wandering Willow
This blog was created to follow our adventures as Gary and I carefully figure out how to radically change our life. We are tired of the "normal" way of life, wherein we must make large amounts of money in order to pay our mortgage and bills and have lots of posessions. After years of reading about it and wondering about it, we are now planning and doing it. What is "it"? We are simplifying our lifestyle, streamlining our needs, and becoming far more self-sufficient. We have sold our gallery, are preparing to sell our home, and will emerge debt-free.
Without all those encumbrances, we will be free. Free to follow our whims and dreams, free to be blown by the winds of Grace to where we are needed, free to be moved as naturally as the Flow of Life flows.
The plan requires that several crucial decisions be made. We have recently been to New Zealand (www.nhne.com/specialreports/bw-newzealand) , and crave the beautiful clear atmosphere of that country. There are possibilities within the U.S. that we are considering. How it will shape up in the long run remains to be seen.
Stay tuned for our adventures! I hope to hear from some of you... comments are very much welcomed. Feedback is a fine thing. All of us humans need one another, so I welcome your participation in this blog.
with love to all,
Wandering Willow
Friday, July 02, 2004
THE PANIC CRASH
Home and security are powerful forces. Disrupt those, and you disrupt the soul, the emotions, the mind, even perception.
Our real estate agent came over to discuss listing our home for sale. We’ve been planning this moment for months, mulling over the idea for years. Now that we’re faced with the moment to make it real…. Panic! Utter panic! Gary went through it one day, and I consoled him. Then I went through it two days later and tried to console myself.
Suddenly our entire rationale for change seems absurd. Our goals seem insane. How could we have ever thought this made sense? We have a beautiful home, full of comfortable places to sit and interesting things to do and a cozy nest to sleep in. The grounds are full of blossoming flowers and fresh salad greens and berries and fruits. My rose garden uplifts my spirits every time I pass by. Our dog loves our pet bunnies, and will miss them when they go to live with some friends. Here we are disrupting the animals lives, the gardens, our own lives and the lives of our friends and neighbors. What are we torturing ourselves for?
…and so on. The panic complaints get pretty far-fetched after awhile.
We keep returning to our plan, with varying levels of gusto. Our brains want to proceed, but our hearts are torn by leaving our home.
The wise real estate agent told us that we needed to say goodbye to our home and garden. She said that, in her experience, if a seller doesn’t actively relinquish the home as their own domain, it won’t sell.
It’s probably true. I have dabbled with saying goodbye. Today I said goodbye to the living room, with its pretty fireplace and mantel with a friend’s sculptures on it. I tried saying goodbye to the mountains outside our window, but the place we intend to move to has a great view of the opposite side of it. No point in saying goodbye to the eastern face, when we’ll still be looking at the western face. I said goodbye to a floral painted vase, that I bought right after my divorce 15 years ago. I think of it as my independence vase, representing my own tastes rather than the ex’s. I experimented with standing in the hallway and looking at the house and picturing it as someone else’s. It was an odd feeling, but I think I can do it.
This evening I was in a friend’s home. My guts ached with a longing for the security they have in their home. They’re not pulling up roots. They get to keep their possessions. Clearly I haven’t said a sincere goodbye yet.
It is strange to be feeling this way! Our adventure has been so important to both of us, but now we’re feeling the entire spectrum of basic human emotions about security. It’s humbling. I realize that I thought I was beyond those feelings. Hah. My self-expectations are high, but my humanity is as vulnerable as everyone's.
* * * * *
© Copyright 2005 bonnie willow.
Our real estate agent came over to discuss listing our home for sale. We’ve been planning this moment for months, mulling over the idea for years. Now that we’re faced with the moment to make it real…. Panic! Utter panic! Gary went through it one day, and I consoled him. Then I went through it two days later and tried to console myself.
Suddenly our entire rationale for change seems absurd. Our goals seem insane. How could we have ever thought this made sense? We have a beautiful home, full of comfortable places to sit and interesting things to do and a cozy nest to sleep in. The grounds are full of blossoming flowers and fresh salad greens and berries and fruits. My rose garden uplifts my spirits every time I pass by. Our dog loves our pet bunnies, and will miss them when they go to live with some friends. Here we are disrupting the animals lives, the gardens, our own lives and the lives of our friends and neighbors. What are we torturing ourselves for?
…and so on. The panic complaints get pretty far-fetched after awhile.
We keep returning to our plan, with varying levels of gusto. Our brains want to proceed, but our hearts are torn by leaving our home.
The wise real estate agent told us that we needed to say goodbye to our home and garden. She said that, in her experience, if a seller doesn’t actively relinquish the home as their own domain, it won’t sell.
It’s probably true. I have dabbled with saying goodbye. Today I said goodbye to the living room, with its pretty fireplace and mantel with a friend’s sculptures on it. I tried saying goodbye to the mountains outside our window, but the place we intend to move to has a great view of the opposite side of it. No point in saying goodbye to the eastern face, when we’ll still be looking at the western face. I said goodbye to a floral painted vase, that I bought right after my divorce 15 years ago. I think of it as my independence vase, representing my own tastes rather than the ex’s. I experimented with standing in the hallway and looking at the house and picturing it as someone else’s. It was an odd feeling, but I think I can do it.
This evening I was in a friend’s home. My guts ached with a longing for the security they have in their home. They’re not pulling up roots. They get to keep their possessions. Clearly I haven’t said a sincere goodbye yet.
It is strange to be feeling this way! Our adventure has been so important to both of us, but now we’re feeling the entire spectrum of basic human emotions about security. It’s humbling. I realize that I thought I was beyond those feelings. Hah. My self-expectations are high, but my humanity is as vulnerable as everyone's.
* * * * *
© Copyright 2005 bonnie willow.
BIG FAT DECISION #1
Written July 28, 2004
Our largest decision has been made. Though we dearly yearn to return to New Zealand for two or three years, (www.nhne.com/specialreports/bw-newzealand) we have decided to stay in the U.S. The turning point came when our little grandson Ethan was born. Ethan’s dad encouraged us to stick to our New Zealand plans, but ohmygod there's a new baby in the family! There's no way we're leaving now.
The next step is to find a way to create the lifestyle that we resonated with in New Zealand. Requirements: a slow pace, a location where wild open spaces outnumber civilized towns, work that helps humanity in some way, a mortgage-free home, garden and greenhouse, a sustainable non-polluting nature-friendly living pattern, and proximity to water. A river, an ocean, a lake, or even a lot of puddles on the ground will do! Our decade of living in a desert during a drought has left us craving water.
Another factor was the offer to spend time on some land in the mountains owned by our friends. They have plenty of room for us to put up some kind of structure and stay until we get blown along by the winds of fate. That got us thinking about putting up a yurt (www.coloradoyurt.com).
Then a different friend told us about the stunning 40-acre plot of land she’s buying in the mountains. She sighed that she wished she knew how to get someone else to live on that land too. She was tired of doing her nature projects by herself. She was overwhelmed by the prospect of putting up her greenhouse and her yurt all alone, and of planning her whole organic garden setup without input from anyone else. Well geez, I know of a solution for her problems! Our plans and needs seem to dovetail perfectly, so we began brainstorming. Presuming that everything falls into perfect place, we three aim to live there in yurts and build a greenhouse and gardens. Real homes can come along later, after we’ve proven to ourselves that this plan will work.
Our current home will have to be sold, in order for us to be available for our new pursuits. As it is profusely gardened – organic, low-water, edible plants fill every corner of our yard, with rock-lined paths winding between – we have to sell it during the summer while everything is in bloom. That gives us…. let’s see…. just about 10 minutes to fix up and clean up our house to put it on the market, if we want to sell it during summer! We have already sprung into action on that front.
It is invigorating to have a plan beginning to form. It is thrilling to feel that our desire to step out of the mainstream and be blown by the winds of Grace is happening! We are willing to risk everything, and we’re counting on Grace to lead us into something meaningful. The trick will be to open our eyes and see the smaller meaningful moments all along the way. The journey can be as rich as the destination.
* * * * *
Our largest decision has been made. Though we dearly yearn to return to New Zealand for two or three years, (www.nhne.com/specialreports/bw-newzealand) we have decided to stay in the U.S. The turning point came when our little grandson Ethan was born. Ethan’s dad encouraged us to stick to our New Zealand plans, but ohmygod there's a new baby in the family! There's no way we're leaving now.
The next step is to find a way to create the lifestyle that we resonated with in New Zealand. Requirements: a slow pace, a location where wild open spaces outnumber civilized towns, work that helps humanity in some way, a mortgage-free home, garden and greenhouse, a sustainable non-polluting nature-friendly living pattern, and proximity to water. A river, an ocean, a lake, or even a lot of puddles on the ground will do! Our decade of living in a desert during a drought has left us craving water.
Another factor was the offer to spend time on some land in the mountains owned by our friends. They have plenty of room for us to put up some kind of structure and stay until we get blown along by the winds of fate. That got us thinking about putting up a yurt (www.coloradoyurt.com).
Then a different friend told us about the stunning 40-acre plot of land she’s buying in the mountains. She sighed that she wished she knew how to get someone else to live on that land too. She was tired of doing her nature projects by herself. She was overwhelmed by the prospect of putting up her greenhouse and her yurt all alone, and of planning her whole organic garden setup without input from anyone else. Well geez, I know of a solution for her problems! Our plans and needs seem to dovetail perfectly, so we began brainstorming. Presuming that everything falls into perfect place, we three aim to live there in yurts and build a greenhouse and gardens. Real homes can come along later, after we’ve proven to ourselves that this plan will work.
Our current home will have to be sold, in order for us to be available for our new pursuits. As it is profusely gardened – organic, low-water, edible plants fill every corner of our yard, with rock-lined paths winding between – we have to sell it during the summer while everything is in bloom. That gives us…. let’s see…. just about 10 minutes to fix up and clean up our house to put it on the market, if we want to sell it during summer! We have already sprung into action on that front.
It is invigorating to have a plan beginning to form. It is thrilling to feel that our desire to step out of the mainstream and be blown by the winds of Grace is happening! We are willing to risk everything, and we’re counting on Grace to lead us into something meaningful. The trick will be to open our eyes and see the smaller meaningful moments all along the way. The journey can be as rich as the destination.
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