I want to suggest something as a deep truth that you may only briefly consider on those occasions that you go to work on a beautiful Saturday, or on Monday mornings, or during holidays.
What I’d like you to consider is that you work too hard, and that the majority of work you perform is on things that are of questionable import.
There’s a lot in that sentence.
If I’m correct, it means that we, as a culture, may be spending too many hours away from the things that we love. It means that we may be sacrificing family for something not as valuable. We may be letting our talents go to waste, or developing ones that are less soulfully-satisfying. We may be using distractions like alcohol, “toys,” “news,” and sports to medicate and mitigate the loss of our dreams, of our selves. Worse, we may be teaching our children to settle for something, rather than defining their passions and going after their dreams, with all the blessings, lessons and combinations of the two that are the property of the truly adventurous.
Why do I say this? As usual, the lesson begins with the self.
I decided about a decade ago that things in the spiritual, political and economic realms were not what I had been taught they were. I went on a journey that has made my life far more difficult in some ways, but deeply rewarding in others. And I would do it again.
This journey has led me from a 3,400-square foot home in Bend, Oregon with a view of Mt. Bachelor, new cars and all the “goodies”—but which was paid for by work that was not soulfully satisfying—to living in a tipi in the same area. It’s taken me from a job selling surgical supplies and feeling like I was contributing to a system that was—and is—broken, to a plethora of careers with which I’ve only stuck with to the extent that they served my soulful needs, rather than my often egoic wants.
I’ve become a fearless wanderer and explorer of my own inner realms, as vast as any universe.
To do this, I’ve cut my bills substantially, believe me. In that way, it’s been and continues to be a process. I want to get to where I can live comfortably on $1,200 a month or less. As of now, it currently takes about $1,900 per month for me to live, pay child support, minimal taxes and $250 for rent on the five acres of land I occupy—and still have money to do some fun things. As it’s important to me to eat healthy, I spend more than most on food because I want it to feed my soul as well as my body.
I live this way because part of my inner explorations have led me inexorably to the decision to live with nature rather than insulating myself against her. One benefit is that I’m not throwing money down the rat hole towards water, sewer, electric, gas or other extraneous bills for which I have no need—so more can be spent on soulful food or other things that feed me.
As you can imagine, no utility bills means no utilities. So, what do I do for heat, for instance?
Note that I Live in Central Oregon. We had five feet of snow in town this year. I promise you that there were times coming home after dark that I was not looking forward to shoveling snow from around my tipi (they need air in order to have an effective fire inside, and that comes from underneath the bottom of the tipi cover). After that was done, I may have had to chop kindling, then take my solar battery inside and plug it in so I have some light and some music. Then, there was the task of making a fire in my woodstove. It took about 30 minutes in the dead of winter to get above freezing. Only after these things were done was I able to start dinner, in the dark by headlamp, in my outdoor kitchen—sometimes in single-digit weather.
Believe me … no matter what I make on those days tastes like the best thing I’ve ever eaten.
For the record, I have an outdoor kitchen rather than an indoor one because I wanted to keep the interior of my tipi round, rather than squaring one side of it with my six-foot countertop. This is a symbol of my own commitment, to my own decisions. Yours may not be that radical. That’s totally ok. The point is that you commit; commit to a fearless exploration, commit to what you dreamed of as a child, without having to ask permission to go get it.
Find what’s blocking these feral dreams, and begin to suffocate them.
Your participation in the economy, if you feel it limits you, is not as mandatory as you think it is. At least not to the extent we are taught. If you’re like most Americans, you can shed many, many things. As you toughen up, you see that these things were not mandatory at all – they were conveniences. It’s horrifying, standing on the other side of the realization of one’s addiction to ease, the price we pay for it here in the land of the (partially) free and home of the (occasionally) brave.
Still, these are real sacrifices. I can’t enumerate all that I’ve lost in this experiment any more than I can explain all that I’ve gained. All I know is that my life feels like a vacation most of the time, now. I know that I laugh easily when I am at my tipi, drumming at sunset after a delicious, healthy meal. I appreciate the season of the South, summer time, because I know the winter in full, with his challenges as well as his teachings.
Sure, I have to make my nut, and most months I do. The point is that the nut has decreased to a more manageable size. I have more time to give. I have more life. I can work on what’s important to my soulful self. For instance, I just joined forces with a non-profit that helps indigenous women become more economically free. I am to create their blog and vlog. I get to use my talent for writing and storytelling to serve a purpose that makes my soul sing.
I could never have done that to the extent I wished when I was selling surgical supplies.
In the final analysis, our souls are free. Our bodies simply embody these free vehicles; they shouldn’t limit us.
My advice is to get still. Find your vision. Make steps to make it a reality. Work on what you love.
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Photo: Getty Images