Simplicity

Today I defrosted the freezer in my new pad. While doing this I had lots of time to think about how simple life can, and should, be. Lots of time because defrosting this freezer required my leaving it open so the bergs of ice would melt enough for me to chop them out with a butter knife. It took awhile. But it was time well spent.

When you're chopping ice out of a 40 year old freezer with a butter knife, you have lots of time to think about life. Maybe too much time, but I kept coming back to the idea of Simplicity.

A few years ago, my friend Deb, invited me to attend weekly meetings at a church members house where we would all discuss our busy lives and ways we could practice Simplicity. I went every week; I was faithful. I made my vision board, listened to each lady tell their story of how they were seeking a simpler life, I practiced living simply...more like I pretended to practice simplicity in my life. 

I had no idea exactly how simple life can be.  Even without my intentionally making it so. 

Years ago I read Joan Anderson's book, "A Year by the Sea" and have been inspired by her courage since. I doubt that she saw her retreat from life as being courageous, but to me, it was. She felt 'unfinished' and in a stagnant relationship. So she abandoned her typical, suburban, obedient life and retreated to a cottage by the sea for a year, alone. Boggles the mind of most women to think about doing such a thing! Now, I find myself living my own version of 'by the sea' and wondering just exactly how I got here.

My motivations for living in a 24' camper with no plumbing, parked next to a creek, cooking over a one burner camp stove, my only companion my deaf, but extremely loyal, 15 year old dog, must be different than Joan's. They are different, aren't they, I ask myself. Maybe they're not so different.

I tell myself I am here living simply, because I am the project manager of the renovation of our farmhouse; our 'forever' house, we like to call it. Someone has to be close by to make sure the contractor is doing his job, right? Who else knows where to put the sinks in the bathroom or which direction to place the tub so that I can look out the window at the field when I'm soaking after a long day? Who else, indeed? In a day of such advanced technology where a phone can give me instant contact with my contractor, and with photos no less, why is it so important for me to have given up my regular life to be here?

I honestly cannot answer my own questions at this time. What I do know is that the house is coming along, whether I do anything or not.  It will be finished one day.  I also know that when I'm walking down the dusty country road that leads me to the house I will start my live over in, once again, I am awed by something as simple as the sunset. By how many butterflies there can be in one square yard of a hay field, and how quiet it can be out here deep in the countryside. 

Whatever motivated my coming here is irrelevant, at this time. What is relevant is that I am finally and authentically living simply. Simply living. It doesn't take much to appreciate what you have when you don't have too much. Turns out practicing effort without effort is simple when you have the perfect location to practice.