In the past couple of days I read an article on wand’rly entitled “How to Make a Living on the Road” (http://wandrlymagazine.com/how-to/make-a-living-on-the-road/).
It’s a collection of inspiring interviews from people who have traded in their nine-to-fives and mortgages for fifth-wheels and mobile-web access. These odyssean adventurers have embraced a traditionally retrograde lifestyle (that is usually rife with technology). They choose to call state and national parks their homes for many months out of the year, often traveling and adventuring more hours than they work.
And the kicker is that none of the people in the article are starving to death. In fact, some of them have gone back to their jobs after their sojourns only to find that they prefer living on the road. Even more importantly, I seem to be making comparable salaries to all of them as well.
For years now, I have allowed the thought of, “I need to have wads of money saved for something like this happen,” to keep me rooted in my seat of complacency.
For years now, I have also dreamed of buying a Dodge or Mercedez Sprinter, converting it into a liveable space (for me, my girlfriend, and our travel-averse dog), selling the majority of our things, and hitting the road.
This spring, I was on a climbing trip to Frenchman Coulee in Washington. My girlfriend and I met a couple who were on the inaugural trip of their newly converted Sprinter. The couple proudly showed off their new mobile home to us. My girlfriend could feel the excitement buzzing off of me as I asked the guy questions about the conversion and the search for the Sprinter. Since that time, I have become acutely aware of how many Sprinters are on the road. And how many of those are posted on craigslist.
As that run-in with the Sprinter couple (who are currently in South America chasing dreams) illustrates, as does the wand’rly article: My dream is within reach.
In fact, the only thing stopping me is myself.
For a very long time, I have thought, “Well, it’s going to happen someday.” Pema Chodron points out this cognitive distortion in her book The Wisdom of No Escape. She refers to clients who apply to her dathuns (meditation retreats), yet in the end neglect to attend because “it just isn’t the right time.”
Does the right time ever come? If so, when?
The answer is Yes. And Now.
For the right time to come we must create it. After all, time is nothing more than an accepted theoretical framework over an entirely intangible concept, right? Viewed as such, we can just as easily manipulate it.
Wish me luck.