The Real Challenge

I wrote a few days ago that the real challenges are inside us; the journey simply exposes them.

Here’s my challenge: guilt.

And I don’t even know, for certain, why.

I feel like I’m cheating the system. Living without the cost of a house and its utilities is less expensive. I know a lot of people who’d travel if only their significant other wanted to, or the kids were older or not born yet or whatever; if only they had a job that blah blah blah.

Everyone I talk to says, how nice for you. Some of them seem to mean, that’s great; how can I make it better? But I feel, sometimes, like there’s a subtext of, sure, you get to go driving all over creation, dragging your wife and little girl along, while the rest of us have to have a real job and be mature and keep civilisation from collapsing.

Yeah, maybe that’s it; that’s where the guilt comes from, in part. What nonsense.

It is not wrong to live an unconventional lifestyle. I’ve lived conventional. For years, I had work (which I loved) which was in an office. I had other responsibilities in life which made a location-specific life make the most sense.

Now, that’s changed. We’ve built businesses which are location independent. Certain spiritual responsibilities are no longer mine, at least for the time being. Fiona’s school allows her to go where and when we go. My friendships are worldwide, many of them virtual (which I’d like to change, which is another reason to travel.)

The only value in guilt is when we’ve done something wrong and need to correct our path.

Nothing doing. There’s no reason for guilt here. I am making good choices with my family’s best interests at heart.

Still, it lingers, that angry voice in the back of my head, whining about responsibility, what I owe.

Ah well. I’ll keep listening to the voices that make sense.

Have I Always Had the Travel Bug?

Looking back over my 46 years of life (I’m not afraid of my age), I think now perhaps there’s always been a part of me that wanted to get up and go – travel.

As I child the only vacation I remember our family taking was driving to the Grand Canyon. Many times dad just took mom and us four kids for a drive on a Saturday afternoon. That was our entertainment (we weren’t big TV watchers). My favorite thing about going camping when my older kids were growing up was the journey of getting there more than the camping itself.

Yet as an adult I didn’t like the idea of not having a home and stability. I wanted to feel rooted and safe. However as the years passed there were many times when I just wanted to get in the car and drive – and drive and drive and drive. I wanted to pack up and go with no real reason, destination or plan. Yet I never did until I started my life with Joel.

Joel and I started our life together with a 25-hour road trip from Phoenix Arizona to San Francisco California. And then we took several road trips from Sacramento to San Diego during the next year. Our honeymoon was a road trip from our home in Roseville California to Oak Creek Canyon Arizona. We both love to drive, listen to our favorite music and talk during our trips. Since we’ve been taking road trips since before Fiona was born, I think she was born with the travel bug. Even as a baby she was an excellent traveler.

Now we often take off for a day and just drive. The idea now of living in one place (so-called stability) no longer appeals to me. Why does staying in once place equal stability? If my quality of life and enjoyment of life is actually improved by traveling, isn’t that more stable than being in one physical place – feeling stifled?

Yes, I think I’ve always had the travel bug and now have someone to share it with who is even more adventurous than me! And I feel safer than ever.

Here’s to our happy travels!

Desire for a Flood

We are not ascetics. We love good food and wine (well, Sue’s pancreas has decided she can’t have alcohol any more, but she loves the smell) and we prefer nice furniture to garage sale stuff. We like a comfortable life and nice things.

Clearly, though, folks who are doing their best to divest themselves of stuff aren’t focused on said stuff too much.

Our goal is a simple lifestyle. This doesn’t mean living on crummy food or in dingy basements. (Consider that some of our best alcoholic beverages originated in monasteries.) It’s about choosing which stuff needs to be nice, and which stuff doesn’t matter.

I read this sentence this morning:

“This world’s advertising elements try to build in us a desire for a flood of consumer goods that we do not need. (Italics mine.)

Need. That can be a tough word to define, and we’re in the process of redefining it for ourselves.

Most of us can agree that the average family does not need six cars, or a house with more bathrooms than people.

But how many computers does our family ‘need’ ? Does Fiona need a computer? Do I need all my musical instruments?

Drawing the line between ‘need’ and ‘want’ is a difficult and, in the end, subjective and personal challenge. Resisting the media’s crushing push to make me want more more more, though, is an imperative.

Guest Post: Ken Grossman on Brilliance and Absurdity

Ken has been a good friend to our family for many years. He’s a deep thinker with a sense of humour skewed in directions we like. He sent this as an email, and at Sue’s request is allowing us to post it here.

The nomadic lifestyle took awhile to sink in with me but I’m on-board now. I cannot say whether it is an absurd idea or brilliant but I suspect it is a bit of both. Here is what I like about it:

  • It serves that inner voice in many of us to live life with gusto
  • It also serves the inner voice that speaks to our wanderlust (But we may need to be aware of too many inner voices as we may end up on medication:)
  • A chance to meet people and REALLY get to know them
  • I think you and Sue have the brainpower and personality to pull this off
  • The world has become very virtualized and there are not many things you cannot do over the Internet
  • Freedom, not total freedom, but freedom to a degree that most industrialized people will not voluntarily seek
  • Exposing Fiona to an unconventional and rich array of experiences, I suspect she will grow up to be a different sort of person and I can’t wait to see
  • I would hope there is a potential through your website to catch an audience that may fuel you both spiritually and financially
  • If you can be successful, I would think you would achieve a comfort with living your life in a predatory world and not fear the future. (See Zen and the art of Motorcycle Maintenance)

There are probably more things I can think of I like but on to the things I am fearful of:

  • You WILL be very dependent on the Internet; stay tuned into potential changes there
  • I don’t know what kind of safety nets you have in place but I suspect that it is not many. Your level of vulnerability concerns me
  • A big safety Net issue is Health care…
  • Traveling the roads makes you very dependent on your vehicle
  • There are bad people out there. Some of them really really seem like good people. Be careful
  • Fiona is blessed to have you both but I would be concerned about her none the less. I don’t wish to verbalize all the reasons…
  • It is a truly crappy economy out there and this might be the perfect way to face it, but, we relentlessly move towards the future and preparing for that should be somewhere on your radar.

OK, a couple of thoughts.

  • The My-Fi from Verizon is very good for browsing the Internet but it sucks for file upload/download especially outside the 3G range. I’ve read about new technology for cars but I don’t know anything about it. You will need to find hot spots.
  • You may want to put a Android phone near the top of your list. If you can try one for 15 days before returning it (Verizon included a $35 restocking fee for my Droid X) then that might be worth it. If you cut loose on this project, I think a Droid phone would be like a Swiss Army Knife for you.

What do you think about Ken’s lists? Are the pluses enough? What about the concerns? We’d love to hear your comments below.

Changes in Fiona

Sitting here recovering from this morning’s headache, I’m watching Fiona play tug-of-war with the dog we’re watching.

Now, if you’ve grown up with dogs, this might not seem like a big deal. For us, it is.

Fiona has never been comfortable around dogs. Our life so far has made caring full time for a pet impractical. Even when she’s gotten to know a dog well, like Boston the giant chocolate puffball her adopted pseudo second family’s dog, she’s always a little hesitant.

Since we’ve been here, she’s decided that this is her dog to care for. She’s very conscious of walk time. She watches his water and food bowls. She worked hard to make him comfortable sleeping on his bedtime pillow in her room instead of his usual place in ours.

In short, she’s doing stuff I never thought she would.

And now, she’s playing a fairly tough game of fling and toss the chew toy, boldly grabbing it from under his nose, then holding it up while he jumps to grab it from her hands, bouncing off her tummy and generally turning it into rugby.

It’s some fairly significant emotional progress for a fairly cautious bookworm of a little girl, and I like it.

Updated  August 19, 2010 with this photo of Fiona walking Brodie:

Fiona walking Brodie

Guest Post by Caitlyn James: Who Are These Canfields?

Caitlyn 'Smokie' James
Caitlyn 'Smokie' James
I’ve busted in here to ask you something. It’s Caitlyn … the Canfields will be staying at our place in August.

Joel & Sue agreed to give me some space to do a fun little post pre-launch of their nomad’s adventure. I’ll hit send before they can do a full proof-read. You’ll see why.

Seriously, folks, who are these Canfields? Have any of you met them in person? Would you let them stay in your house?

I don’t have time to be cautious and subtle so I apologize in advance for being a bit crass….

First, I get they’ll be living in the house so opening up the medicine cabinet is reasonable. We’ll take most of the anti-psychotic drugs with us; the Warfarin can be moved into the shed – we rarely use it for people, but we have friends with a tendency to forget to go home and at the right dose, the Warfarin just makes them feel a little woozy and they decide it’s time to go. Nothing serious. Of course, we use it on the pests, too, but it smells so nasty when they die in the walls. Anyway, my question is, are Joel and Sue the kind of people who will use up your Tylenol if you leave half a bottle sitting there?

Second, Fiona seems like a cute kid, but is she really 6? Apparently, she reads chapter books, flies at the sight of dogs, and has her own website. Makes me wonder if this is one of those sting operations the cops do when they pose as teenagers online to lure pedophiles. In this case, someone may have mentioned all the 6 foot deep holes we’ve been digging in the yard. The cops may have set up this kind-of-quirky family to infiltrate our home and networks. Fiona may very well be a donut eating 35-year-old with his own kid in kindergarten.

You see where I’m going with this. The Canfields might not be normal.

There’s this other thing. We LOVE our dog. Not in that nutty way that people can be with dog nail polish and bows in the hair; it’s just that we don’t see why people make their dogs eat on the floor. RK (Racoon Killer) has his dog dish on the table when we eat our dinner. I’m afraid Joel might try to change this. I dunno, I’m thinking he might be worried when RK takes an innocent little lick off Fiona’s plate. Problem is, RK has never taken direction all that well. Without a whole long story, let’s just point out that I only have 3 fingers on one hand. That’s 3 fingers total, out of 2 hands total. My question to you? Do you think I should tell them in advance about this?

As long as they don’t deviate from the regular routines nothing will go wrong.

In fact, I’m writing up some stuff for them (you can read about that at http://ImaginingBetter.com on July 7th) so they will know what the routines are and a few helpful hints. Don’t look Bruce, the neighbour, in the eye, that kind of thing. It’s a nice neighbourhood, but Bruce is a little touchy. Most of the rest of them just leave us alone. Walk on the other side of the street, skip us when collecting for charities – really respectful. Not too many nosey parkers.

Other than feeding the dog, we aren’t expecting much. Lock the doors when you leave, water the crop on schedule. Harvest time should coincide nicely with the Visa bill arrival, if the watering is done right. That’s it.

If there’s anything you believe is important for us to know before we turn our house and our dog and the crop over to Joel, Sue, and Fiona (if that’s even who they really are) can you leave some comments here… or send me an email, easy2remember@caitlynjames.com, you know, so they don’t intercept the communication?

Yikes, gotta go. Send.

Fiona Needs More Rooms

Yes, ‘rooms’, plural.

As I was making lunch she sat at the counter telling me about how boring our house is.

“I’ve seen every room in the house, and no matter how many times I look, there aren’t any new rooms. I wish we could add two hundred million more rooms so I wouldn’t be bored.”

Two hundred million is her favorite (or at least most-referenced) number lately.

The little one, like her Daddy, seems to thrive on constant stimulation. She’s infinitely curious, which is probably the source of her voracious reading.

Now she needs more rooms.

Maybe you can help?

Why We’re Not Crazy

Amidst all the excitement and enthusiasm, some very real consternation has surfaced among some who know us. Since its source is their genuine concern for us, and since others may well be thinking the same things, I thought it was time to clarify things so y’all know you don’t have to worry about us.

First and foremost, I will never knowingly endanger my family’s well-being or happiness. My primary job is to care for my wife and daughter, in part, by caring for myself.

And the first of the first is our spiritual well-being. Whether or not you share a specific religious bent, you certainly realise that there is more to life than what we eat and what we wear. I know that there are things more important than me, that the Greater Good outweighs my personal benefit, and, by extension, my family’s. We plan to continue, and, if possible, increase our volunteer work, and have plans in place to reinforce ourselves to offset the potential instability traveling can introduce.

Which brings up the second point: stability. Don’t we need a home, a car, a fixed place, to provide our daughter the life a 6-year-old needs?

No, we don’t. What she needs is not things, but people. The love of her family, undivided attention, counsel and guidance, correction and discipline, play and adventure—those, she needs. She does not need to live in the same house for five years, or know that the store is only five minutes by car. Those are luxuries which the bulk of the world lives without every single day. I want her to know that.

As far as luxuries, here’s a sneaky little tidbit: I firmly believe our standard of living is about to experience a serious upgrade. Now, we’re pretty frugal. We live a simple life. But not a life of deprivation. We love good food. We love sitting in front of a great movie on TV. We love good music (and my room full of musical instruments and recording equipment.) We like sturdy fun clothing, and maybe more than anything else, we like sleeping in a nice soft bed.

I’m not giving that stuff up. We’re not planning on using our backpacks for pillows as we collapse exhausted under the hedgerows. That’s no kind of life, and not what we’re seeking.

But we’re not materialistic. We have far more stuff than we could possibly need or will ever use. If we got rid of 90% of it, we’d barely miss it. Even if we decide to call this whole adventure off, that’s still gonna happen because we’re just plain tired of being responsible for all this stuff.

How can we possibly make a living if we’re traveling? Well, my short answer to that is, I sure haven’t been wildly successful making a living by not traveling. My last two jobs disappeared overnight when the companies shut down. Our own companies have started growing, finally, and that’s the very reason travel has become essential. There is plenty of work for us, but for now, we need to go to the work, since it’s not coming to us.

Aren’t we biting off more than we can chew? Not yet. Sure, there’s a banquet on the table. Right now, we’ve simply put a nice salad on our plate. The only thing we’ve committed to at this point is that we’ll be in Vancouver for most of the month of August. After that, we could come home and announce that the experiment is over and we’re done. It’s not likely, but for now, we’re not committing to anything without knowing what we’re getting ourselves into. This is an experiment, and each step is a gentle testing of the ground to ensure that we don’t lose our footing.

Sure; I’ve shared some wild goals here, talking about living without most of our possessions, a home and car, all that. It’s still the plan.

But plans change. We can’t foretell the future any better than anyone else. But we’d rather choose a future and try to make it happen than to simply sit here and let life be something which happens to us.

We’re seeking a simpler life, not a more complicated one. We’re trying to need less stuff and have more time.

We’ve settled on some tentative goals; I’ll share those later. But even those are subject to review and adjustment every step of the way.

Like I said: we know we can swim, but we’re still gonna make sure there’s water in the pool before we jump in.

More of the Plan

The long-term goal is to own nothing but what we can carry in a few suitcases, besides a few possessions too expensive or emotionally precious to replace. This isn’t meant to be Sherman’s march to the sea, slashing and burning as we go. At some point it’s likely we’ll come back to a more traditional lifestyle, and I’ll regret getting rid of all my books and my Dad’s stuff.

We rent our home right now, so we won’t have to sell anything that huge. Sue’s son might find a roomie or two and stay here, meaning we’d have an attic to store stuff in, an address to get mail at, and a place to sleep when we’re in town. Otherwise, we have dozens of friends who’d offer a room, an address, whatever we need.

We’ve got a tentative test trip planned for August 2nd through the 24th-ish. We’d be house-sitting just outside Vancouver, British Columbia. I mentioned the trip to a close friend today and he talked endlessly about the marvelous vacation he and his wife took there; about the mind-boggling beauty of the scenery.

Sue discovered that another one of her virtual assistant contacts is in Vancouver. She was going to track her down when she noticed late this afternoon that said VA had Tweeted something about looking for accountability partners to help her take her business to the next level . . . so tomorrow, we have a call planned to talk about arranging some sort of workshop (or workshops) while we’re there.

In the spirit of transparency, if we can make $600 in extra income while we’re there (beyond what we would have earned staying home) it will completely cover the cost of the trip. And if the big web job we’ve signed issues the first payment within the next month (almost a foregone conclusion) we’ll even have the funds up front, seed money, so to speak, and earn it back on the trip. Lather rinse repeat.

Might make a pre-dry-run (yeah, I just make this stuff up) to San Diego in July. Don’t tell Sue. If we can arrange a small informal event in LA and one in San Diego, we could make up the $300 that trip would cost.

These trips would let us test out what it’s like to work completely remotely. My wonky little Sony Vaio laptop; Sue on her son’s borrowed Dell beast (don’t tell him, either.)

Skype calls? Have to test. No headphones. Do we take speakers? Do we take the musician-quality microphones we’re used to using?

House concerts: if I could connect with folks who’d host a house concert, I show up, play music for an hour, pass a hat, play for another half hour.

Video everything (already a habit.) Take notes about everything (already a habit.)

Van needs rear tires and rear brakes. And windshield wipers.

There must be a dozen things I’m forgetting.