Slowing My Roll

In my husband and I’s new foray into living the van life whilst searching for land to buy in western Montana, an activity I’ve been enjoying lately is going for short walkabouts after dinner, wherever we happen to be parked for the night. And I’ve been especially appreciating the practice – when I can manage to do it – of looking not up ahead in the direction I’m traveling but down at the slowly moving ground just under my feet. 

The newness factor is pretty high for us right now. We’ve taken a leap and are in mid-flight, unsure about where we might land. I don’t think I’ve been amid this much uncertainty ever before. We’re learning to live a nomadic lifestyle; weathering the cold temps of springtime in the mountains; and doing our best to keep our spirits up that a property will come on the market that we can both afford and will meet some of our criteria. We have new unstructured time on our hands to fill and are also faced with adjusting to being together all the time in a super small space. All things considered we’re doing pretty darn well, but it’s a lot. Something I try my best to keep in mind: transitions take time. 

Given how easy it is to get swirled up in the stress of the great unknowns right now, I’m finding that when I go for a stroll and focus my attention downwards, it helps to calm my nervous system and bring me more fully into the present moment. When I focus my attention on the trail up ahead, I find that my pace quickens, as though I need to be in some kind of hurry to arrive somewhere up ahead. 

When I can direct my gaze downwards at my feet, my natural inclination is to slow down. It’s really quite an interesting thing to notice! When I look up, I speed up. When I look down, I slow down. 

Getting the Hang Of It

I reckon living the van life is getting a pinch easier. Funny how easy it is to forget that things take time. How easy it is to think we as adult humans should just know how to do everything and if we aren’t masters at whatever new thing we’re doing straight away, it means something is wrong or we’re broken or whatever other personal inadequacy story we tell ourselves.

It’s getting a little warmer, which is definitely helping things a bit. Waking up to 28-degrees inside the van is just not my favorite (I think that’s been our lowest). This morning it was almost 50-degrees, our warmest morning inside the van temp thus far. 50 is pretty comfortable. Even 40 is doable, especially in comparison with 28. Never have I been so clued into the temperature as I’ve been living the van life. It’s a dynamic situation for sure, when one lives so close to the out of doors. 

I was initially a little nervous about using a portable propane heater inside the van but our little unit has been working great. It’s super easy to use and it’s made the cold mornings manageable. We installed a carbon monoxide tester inside the van for safety as well, to help us monitor our indoor air quality. 

It’s been a little over 3-weeks now that we’ve been living the van life. And I feel like I’m starting to get the hang of it. I’m getting more comfortable parking in various un-vetted spots and integrating certain things into our daily routine, like the “age-old” question: So…where shall we park tonight?! As someone who’s a nester, likes having a home base, enjoys planning  and operates optimally with the support of good routines and a daily schedule, I think I’m doing pretty well adjusting to this very new and different way of living, all things considered. 

One Day At A Time

We’re two-weeks in to living the van life. We’ve been fortunate to find some nice parking spots, surrounded by trees and little else. We’re finding our groove with our differing eating and sleeping schedules. And we’re getting the feel for where the good spots are to hang out during the day; where the public toilets are; where wi-fi access is offered; which dirt roads Mike can still get cell service on and, ideally, 4G. 

We’ve been greeted by some cold mornings but are still staying plenty warm at night. There’s even been a bit of snow. The forecast calls for a dip in temps all this week. The coldest it’s been so far is 27-degrees in the van. The van heats up quick whenever we run the engine and turn on the heater or fire up our portable propane unit, but it’s fixin on dropping down into the teens here soon, which I’m not looking forward to.

It’s taking a little something extra to work with the discomfort of cold and also uncertainty right now. To have our home base be a small and shifting landscape. And our simple dwelling conditions right now are also good training ground for present moment living. For strengthening my own true home within.

As much as I like to plan and for as often as my thoughts drift into the past and future, life is truly available only in the here & now, one day at a time. Our process of scaling way back and down, of simplifying our way of living, is really bringing this reality more to light for me.

Learning How To Live The Van Life

On a dirt road in Montana

This is us on the learning curve on how to search for land while living the van life, in the early early springtime in the mountains of western Montana. This is us scaling way back and down and dwelling simply. I am also learning what it means to be courageous and a deeper sense of what it means to be kind, first and foremost to myself; how self-befriending really is a super power of strength. 

Oh how the voices of the majority require silencing, in order to live into a different kind of life. Tensions exist in the power struggle to detach with love from the mainstream. And it’s not about one way being right and the other wrong. It’s about the simple truth – which goes largely unspoken – about how there are countless ways to live a good life. 

Upon this bonfire of
living, let us hoist
what we can into its
nest of brambles. 

Let us see how much
warmth we can garner
from relinquishing our
control over every
stick & stone. 

Death is waiting
on the other side of
fear. Not our final 
death but the one
necessary like spring, 
ushering forward 
new growth. 

Let us not romanticize 
our situation. Let us
not doom & gloom it
either. 

The middle way 
between life & death
is living in the
here & now. 

Our hundred times
a day I remind myself
to breathe & to smile.