We have been back on Trailer Life mode for almost a week.
It didn’t take long to slip into the groove of living in the Pod. As much as I hated leaving our new home in Sechelt, I immediately felt the untethered lightness of being on the road.
On the road, I find it easier to gain perspective on my life. I realize I take myself with me wherever I travel, but geographical distance seems to somehow lend me more of an emotional distance. I float a little above the day-to-day-ness of life, observing it with a certain scientific detachment, as if viewing my life from an eagle’s cloud height or like in a plane, looking down at the quilted patterns of a town’s fields, the little toy cars, the dotting of dogs and horses and there, over there, isn’t that Colleen walking her tiny trail into town?
Zoom out.
Zoom in.
Lives unfolding – all our dreams and dramas – have a tendency to diminish with the distance granted by a long-range perspective.
Perhaps that is why there are so many willing new citizens in little Mexican beach towns. It’s hard to remember why you took your daily existence so seriously when you have lots of sand between your toes.
Maybe road dust has the same magical properties?
I’m not sure. But then, am I ever sure about much?
I do know this: I love having a home. I love my art space. I love books and journals and music and knowing where everything is, surrounded by art and all that is ours.
But my, oh my, I love looking around the next corner too.
Yesterday we stopped for an iced coffee in Winlaw. It was scorching hot and the patio and iced coffee sounded like a fine plan. Looking around we realized that Roberts Creek did not have a corner on alternative lifestyles. We overheard two earnest young women commiserating over the Aries-like behaviours of a mutual friend. “Oh, I know just what you’re talking about,” said the one in her black T-shirt, “my mother is an Aries.”
Well of course.
So maybe I’m just being overly very Gemini-like with my constant stay-or-go, to-or-fro, here-or-there tendencies.
I should have bought those women a drink and asked.
Oh My! Life on the road, whether it be suitcase attire, day in day out, or minimized to a few square feet, there’s nothing like it! We love travelling carry on. Doesn’t matter how long or how far! China, Mexico, the Kootenays. As long as my underwear is clean I’ve arrived. Drop in, oh long time friends. DAN turns 70 in a few weeks. Yikes!
Ha! A gal can go anywhere with some clean underwear. Dan the Man!! One day soon – look for a Pod in your driveway ????
I hear what you’re saying about perspective. “…all our dreams and dramas – have a tendency to diminish with the distance granted by a long-range perspective.” Totally makes sense to me. We can so easily get consumed by our day-to-day-ness – the kids, jobs, house, life stuff. How awesome for you that you are able to create space and a birdseye view of your life. Great post.
Thanks Gwen. I think you know all about perspective from your log home porch. The city must feel pretty far-removed from that little piece of paradise.
Beautiful post, Colleen. I didn’t know you’d moved to Sechelt. Fabulous choice. I have been in Ladysmith a little over three years now, and continue to believe I live in paradise. Take good care!
Hi Shelley, isn’t it amazing how many beautiful places there are to live? Glad you’re loving Ladysmith, it’s a wonderful piece of the planet.