On our adventures we’ll be relocating frequently. Our “plan” is to stay as long as we stay, then move on when it’s time.
And every move calls for a breakdown.
That’s when we collapse the Clam gazebo, retract the slider, drain all the water tanks, disconnect our hookups, tuck every single thing into its place, and generally batten all the hatches for travel.
It’s When We Let Go
Every new adventure means closing out the prior one. And each time we hitch Libbie to Kyrie, we’re doing exactly that. Over and over.
We’re letting go of every single thing our current place has to offer. Letting go of any more chances to explore where we currently are. Letting go of the possibility of finding out that here, now, is where the next perfect thing might have happened.
But also letting go of the invisible, creeping inertia that means we’re settling in.
We’re letting go just as things get comfortable.
Because comfort is not what we’re after.
We’re after the off-kilter unease of not knowing where we’re sleeping that night.
We’re after getting up each morning anxious to create the possibility of adventure that can come only from not knowing what’s next. We’re after welcoming each day for its ability to grant us the new normal of being in flux.
And that is unsettling.
We are here to be here, but not for a moment to settle for all that “here” has to offer.
Not any of which is comfortable.
And all of which is the opposite of settling.
We’re not ready to settle — not for the normal workaday of the past decades of our lives, or for the strictures that society would impose on us, or for anything that smacks of “good enough for now.”
We’re ready to unsettle.
Leaving It All Behind
After each breakdown, as we review our “leaving camp” checklist and drive away, we stop, a few feet away from our site and look back. We ask ourselves, “Did we leave anything behind?”
We see that the site is blank. We see that it is ready for whoever shows up next.
“Did we leave anything behind?” We ask.
We left everything behind.