Canfield of Dreams » Reasons

Bridge Out on Memory Lane

Joel D Canfield — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 16:26:58 +0000

In the movies, when the long-lost father/mother/brother/sister/whatever crosses paths with their kin, directors show us the visceral connection. Look in their eyes; they know something just happened. Nice for story lines, but no connection to reality.

I spent a couple hours driving through the are where I grew up, and I'm surprised that I was so surprised that nothing felt more than vaguely familiar. Unconsciously, I apparently believed that I'd magically know that if we go down this road a ways, there'd be the old Swenson place, or the Swanson place (one of each) or find the long-gone location of Range School where I went for 1st and 2nd grade (all in one year) when we lived in Amery.

Glenwood City felt a bit familiar, but since that's where my father was born, not me, it was only because he'd shown us a few locations 35 years ago when we were there.

I've been through Baldwin, where I was born, 3 or 4 times as we passed through Wisconsin. It's never meant anything to me. We didn't live there, it's just where the hospital was.

But somehow, I thought I'd find at least one of the 2-room schools I attended; one of the big white farm houses I lived in; one of the long long driveways I walked down to wait, in the snow, for the schoolbus.

Near the end of the drive, before hitting the interstate for St. Paul, we took a short detour, making a left turn at the warning sign:

Bridge Out

The Long Haul: In Retrospect

Sue L Canfield — Fri, 29 Jul 2011 14:10:04 +0000

A year ago I wrote about the beginnings of our adventure. Then I wasn't sure exactly where we'd be in a year or if we'd even decide to leave behind a home and travel. I did know I wanted to do something different.

So we packed up, drove up to Vancouver and spent a glorious three weeks there. The trip made me realize the need for big change in our lives. I had gotten into a rut and the daily grind of getting up and sitting in our dark little home office wouldn't cut it anymore. I needed to be outside, feeling the sun shine on my face, the wind blowing through my hair. I needed to spend time teaching Fiona about the great big outdoors.

It's great to be able to go anywhere we want and to maintain our work and keep our clients happy. When our official "one year without a home" time comes at the end of September, I'll write even more about all this has meant and how I feel. For today I want to thank all the wonderful clients we have who have worked with us even when we are so far apart. Below is just one testimonial from a satisfied client:

"I have been truly amazed that with all of Sue’s travels, I haven’t experienced any interruptions in service whatsoever. She has consistently delivered her services to the same great level I’ve come to expect, all since becoming a road warrior! I’m not sure I’d be so resilient, but she and Joel really know how to operate mobile businesses. Well done!" ~ Stephanie Chandler, Author, Speaker, Publisher,

P.S. Stephanie later emailed to say, "It really is remarkable how you’ve managed to go mobile with your businesses. That should be your next book!!" Guess we've got more work to do and another book to publish! :)

Finding Me: The 1st Year

Joel D Canfield — Fri, 29 Jul 2011 06:41:52 +0000

I wrote that the most important thing you find when you travel is yourself. (What I said literally was the real challenges are inside us; the journey simply exposes them.) I could write about the amazing changes in Fiona (as the 7th child, I know what to expect and she's exceeded it exponentially.) I could write about how Sue has relaxed, has developed her faith, has deepened my belief in her undying unconditional love.

But I'll just write about me, okay?

One year ago, nearly to the minute, we left our home behind and chose a nomadic life. For me, though the trigger was financial (it was cheaper to live without a house to care for) my real reasons were about personal growth.

I'm a pack-rat. I needed to stop it before it slipped from annoying to unhealthy.

I'm a homebody. I hate; no, detest, despise, fear, loathe, going out of my home. Crossing my own threshold going outward is an emotional, physical trial, every time I do it. Crossing it inward is a near-spiritual experience.

Difficult nearing unhealthy.

There's more, but those are a good enough place to start.

I tend toward extremes. (For you Myers Briggs fans, I flip-flop between INFJ, the rarest personality type, especially for a male, and INFP, its confused twin.) I have only two settings for nearly everything. Two colors, black and white. I live in a whorling vortex of intensity and passion which wears on even me a bit.

Over the past year of traveling, I've learned to let go a little. I can't perfectly control the cleanliness and noise of my environment. I don't even choose the bed I sleep in most nights. Not to say I've dealt with dirt or discomfort; that's not the point. The point is control over those factors.

I've stopped collecting almost entirely. I see a tea mug I like, and I just like it, and move on. I've purchased one CD that I recall in the past year. I've bought one pair of shoes and two pairs of shorts, and given away a pair of shoes, a suit with two pairs of pants and suspenders, multiple pairs of pants, and I don't remember what else. Less, less, I cry. I seem to be listening. (Okay, the dozen books are research for my writing. Don't ask a workman to stop buying necessary tools.)

Not one new musical instrument, other than Fiona's ukulele. This, in itself, is miraculous.

I've become slightly more stoic about the weather. I still have a visceral angry response to being too hot. But I'm learning to do what I can, and search for joy in something else when I'm uncomfortable.

I have discovered that I can still feel guilty about not spending enough time with my daughter, even when she's in the same room with me 16+ hours a day. I have discovered that I yearn for more time, more talk, more touching and eye-gazing with my Best Beloved, even though we are in the same room 23+ hours a day. I want us to dissolve into each other, into a single being, so we're never apart for an instant.

Weather didn't prevent us from publishing two books this month; my 4th business book and my first fiction. Nor from having our two best months financially in many years.

The short version: I've learned that even as I approach 52, the age at which my father died (a fact which looms large in my psyche) I can still change.

Finding me. In unexpected places and ways, I keep finding me, more, clearer, better; the distillate.

Joel Concentrate: Just Add Travel

What's your excuse for not traveling? My guess: you're using family, money, or perceived obligations as an excuse for the fear of finding yourself. Don't.

Looking for That Ideal Place

Sue L Canfield — Sun, 03 Jul 2011 11:33:52 +0000

I recently gave some thought as to why the continual moving to a new place doesn't bother me. At least not much. Sure once in a while it can be challenging. But overall I find myself excitedly looking forward to moving on to another place, another house sitting job. Why?

I realized that many housewives, at one time myself included, enjoy moving the furniture around once in a while and redecorating their homes. Some even have a summer color scheme and a winter color scheme. My mother in law has different flower arrangements she brings out each season. Many women, wives, mothers are constantly changing their environment.

Guess what? I can fulfill that longing for a different environment any time I want! I've realized that the moving on to a new place is like redecorating for me. Except I don't actually have to spend any money on decor. I just go to the next house sitting job and have a new place to call home in new surroundings for a bit. It's the best!

Something else I've come to realize is that until now I've never really chosen where I want to live. I mean I have out of necessity in the past chosen a place that was close to family, etc. But I'd never even thought of settling down outside of California where I was born. Now that I've seen so much more of the country I know there are many other beautiful places to live. Before settling down again, I need to see lots of them so I know where I really want to live this time. I can choose!

So, I'm traveling looking for that ideal place (at least until we make it to Ireland). :)

A Year of Driving; A Driving Year

Joel D Canfield — Sat, 11 Jun 2011 14:23:38 +0000

One year ago today, perhaps one year ago this moment, I looked up from my tea and said, "It sure would be cheaper to live if we didn't have a house to take care of." And the other responsible mature adult in the family, rather than laughing at my insanity or rolling her eyes at my immaturity, looked down at her tea and said, "We can't leave today, but we could go for a nice long drive and talk about it."

One year later we've realized that we're barely getting started. There's so much to see and do. We've certainly seen and done a lot already. But just counting the predominantly English-speaking portions of North America we have passed through only 21/63 of the states, provinces and territories (which you mathematicians know can be reduced to 1/3; hey, we're homeschoolers, we're always teaching.) And that doesn't even acknowledge the original goal of sharing a meal in each state, province and territory. That probably requires a complete recount which may reduce the number significantly.

Another Year—At Least

One year from now we hope to be 63 for 63.

That's going to take planning and occasionally pushing just a little. So far we've let our travels take us wherever there was a place to go. During the coming year we might make choices instead of drifting on the wind.

It does not yet feel like work. We don't feel unstable. As the bumper sticker in Taos New Mexico said, 'all who wander are not lost.' We wander, but not lost.

Settling In,
Not Settling Down

We've talked about moving our World HQ from Northern California to the frigid wasteland of Wisconsin in order to be close to my mom as much as possible. We've taken a few preliminary steps but it's nothing like settling down.

That process though raised thoughts of settling down. We realized as we drove and talked that we no longer need to travel. Now we want to travel. We're not sure we've seen any change in our finances. What we have seen is a great long list of changes in us.

Lessons. Friends. Wealth.

After knowing each other nearly four decades we've managed to learn new things about each other during the past year, even during the past month. Sue has developed greater faith that things will work out, that we will sleep indoors, eat regularly and have the things we need for our simple life. I've developed greater faith that I can advance confidently in the direction of my dreams. Our little one has learned that not all heights are dangerous and that outside is better than inside.

We've made dozens of connections and half a dozen lifelong friends. We've realized the power of asking and the nearly universal presence of generosity and kindness.

There are still challenges almost every day. Being a nomad doesn't mean leaving challenges behind. It means doing battle with the challenges on our own terms. We have learned to measure our wealth not in dollars but in time spent doing what we choose.

We are rich beyond belief.

Happy 6 Months

Joel D Canfield — Wed, 30 Mar 2011 19:34:10 +0000

I wrote about how this is the real beginning but didn't explicitly congratulate myself and my family.

Go, us!

It does feel like we're barely warming up. We're just starting to sort out this whole house-sitting thing. I still worry every time I have to pack the van that this time it won't all fit. I still see 2 weeks as not enough time to settle in and get something done, so I slack off.

I wanna get good at this, and I feel like we've barely begun.

Six whole months as nomads. That's quite an accomplishment, I know. But, only 6 months? Second grade takes 9.

I want to get better at this; I want to be really really good at it.

That's gonna take years. That's okay. I've got 'em.

Six Months Ago Today We Left Home

Sue L Canfield — Wed, 30 Mar 2011 19:33:52 +0000

It was six months ago today, September 30, 2010, that we left 'home'. We drove away from Roseville California to start living a nomadic lifestyle. What's it been like? Are we ready to settle down? How's Fiona doing?

It's been good. Sure there have been some long days when we've been in the van all day and Fiona wants to be in a house with a bed. There have also been other times when she's said she's tired of being in a house and wants to get in the van and drive somewhere. Every morning she still gets up and when we ask her how she is, she says "happy".

We've enjoyed meeting new people and meeting in person many that we had only known virtually. Our address book continues to grow with contact information of new acquaintances and business associates.

Are we ready to settle down? No!

I don't know how long we'll do this. Right now we're enjoying life, meeting new people, seeing new places. It's only been six months. We haven't experienced this nomadic lifestyle enough to know how long it will last. I have realized though that if and when we do settle it will not be in a big city. I want small town life, a slower pace, no crowded malls.

I never want to be stuck inside four walls all day. I want to feel the sunshine, the wind, smell fresh air, see nature. I want Fiona to know there's more to this planet than one city, one state, one country. She will learn that the possibilities are endless.

Embrace the Unexpected

Joel D Canfield — Tue, 29 Mar 2011 19:05:16 +0000

Tehachipi dusted with snow. A field full of jumbo jets in Mojave. The almost comically hard snow line above the desert. Our first night sleeping in a Walmart parking lot.

If our trip had gone as planned we would have missed all this. We would never have planned a trip which included being stuck in Bakersfield because the freeways were blocked due to snow.

You cannot plan for everything. Indeed, you should plan. But as every nomad knows no plan survives contact with the highway.

Discontent and unhappiness are caused by our refusal to acknowledge and accept what is. Call it serendipity, the universe, God. Embrace the adventures that happen all on their own.

Like most true stories, there's just no way we could make this stuff up.

No Back; Only Forth

Joel D Canfield — Sat, 26 Mar 2011 15:57:27 +0000

Leaving Sacramento after our daughter's wedding, Sue pointed out that this was the real beginning of our nomadic life.

Up 'til now, everything has either been a dress rehearsal (our month in Vancouver) or a trip (to Montreal) or a temporary holding pattern until we had to go back. We always had to go back.

This time, there's no back, only forth.

We're not going somewhere we have to come back from. We don't have any specific places we have to be, or be back to. Nothing to hold us to any particular spot on the planet. Nothing to do that isn't exactly what we've chosen.

Joel braves 70mph winds at Bray Head, Valentia Island, Co. Kerry, Ireland

Forth. Only forth. We go forth to house sit for someone who wasn't an existing connection. Forth to spend real time near the place I was born but have rarely seen since then. Forth to August in Canada (I got my wish, again.) Forth to the easternmost land on this continent, to balance our standing on the westernmost land in Europe.

Our time here in Phoenix feels all too short, but before it ends in one week, we'll have passed the 6-month mark in our nomadic life. The past 6 months have been the greatest period of change in my life, and in my head. I didn't know it was possible to know Sue any better, and I do. I thought I knew where I was going with our business. Turns out that the greatest leap was to something that's not a business at all, but a reason, so April 19th I'm launching a Great Big Thing that will be our primary business focus, despite the fact that it's not a business at all.

During the past 6 months, I've forgiven myself for a lot of things. I've found things in my head that I didn't even know were there, and found things I thought I'd lost. If we settled down in a little village somewhere tomorrow, I would still be changed irrevocably.

When you travel, the greatest discovery is yourself.

Crafty Lifestyle: Bookbinding

Joel D Canfield — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 20:50:37 +0000

Having more time has made me ponder creative outlets besides my songwriting and business books. Needing a better way to track my projects and day-to-day tasks (my experiment with 3x5 cards was most enlightening) I tried my hand at hand stitching my own little notebook.

I need to work on the gluing techniques, and got myself a smaller drill bit for the stitching holes, but all in all, I'm happy with the result. I believe that I can make these for less than 50 cents each, and it's very peaceful and relaxing stitching the signatures (groups of pages) inside.

I wanted to make something fast, unfussy, and cheap, so I'd be more inclined to use these things and not wait until I had thoughts worthy of enshrining in some leather-bound tome (for now.)

A single sheet of letter-size paper will yield three strips which, when folded in half, makes a 4 1/4" x 3 5/8" page. I laid 16 sheets down, measured the top sheet, then used a straight edge and tore the sheets rather than cutting them. I'll need to work on the technique, but I don't mind the raggedy edge; just don't want it quite that raggedy.

If I could settle for two folded pages from each sheet, and live with a waste strip 1 1/2" x 11" from each, I could make journals the same size as a Moleskine, but the waste disturbs me. I might experiment with a tiny 2 3/4" x 4 1/4" journal which would require 12 sheets of letter-size paper to make a 192-page journal. Would that be big enough? Guess I need to find out.

The fabric glue I used is flexible even after it dries, but I didn't get it thin enough. Spreading with a thin card instead of my finger would help.

I made a book press out of two 12" x 3/4" x 3/4" pieces of birch wood and two carriage bolts with wing nuts. During the gluing process I realised I'll need something wide enough to smash the whole journal, so it looks like I'll need two more carriage bolts and two pieces of wood big enough to hold the largest journal I'm likely to make, a half-sheet 5 1/2" x 8 1/2" so that's about 7" x 10" to leave room for drilling the bolt holes. Have to be careful of size, being nomads and all.

Eventually I'd like to settle on one or two sizes and have someone make a leather cover I can slip over the current journal, and reuse when the journal's full. I'll also have to answer the questions in my head about the textured cover I chose, the decorated end sheets, etc. They weren't cheap, and there's no reason I can't do something both economical and beautiful, if I'm willing to invest time and effort into it.

Someday I plan to make a whole book by hand—write it all out on handmade paper and make a single unique book I've written; one of a kind.