I received a mixed bag of responses when I began telling people that I wanted to stay in McCarthy through the winter, from words of encouragement and excitement to quizzical looks of confusion to warnings of the dreary gloom of Alaskan wintertime. Sometimes, I doubted the decision, especially when people looked at me like I might have a loose screw rattling around my head. The cold, the dark, the isolation, the lack of material comforts and modern conveniences: I often doubted my own strength when attempting to paint the picture of what my life might be like in the long months ahead. Then, I would have bouts of excitement when I would imagine the freedom to fill in the days as I pleased and the challenge of living a life of simplicity, a life without toaster ovens and toilets. More often than not, people would tilt their heads to the side, give me a long, hard look of distant confusion and genuine curiosity, and ask, “But, what will you do all the time?”—a question that had never before danced its way into my brain space. The first time I encountered it, I tilted my head in the same distantly confused manner and responded, “What do you mean, what will I do?” Too many unread books, too many unwritten words, too many subjects to be studied and skills to acquire—boredom has recently lost its place in my mental dictionary. The freedom to own my time and energy, to expend it in a productive, positive, and purposeful fashion, was one of the greatest attractions to my new life in the woods. I’m finding it to be true too; I have lists of projects and routines that I never have enough time to complete. This lifestyle is not only about eliminating material waste, but also the waste of moments and energy. I’m finding routine, self-discipline, and self-motivation essential elements of survival and happiness. Projects give purpose, and attitude is essential. I’m learning to appreciate what I have, rather than longing for the impossible, and to focus on accomplishments, rather than all of the unchecked items on my never-ending to do list. Also, I’m getting really good at splitting wood. My day often looks like this: I wake up with the sun, start the hot water for coffee, chop wood, start a fire, do the dishes (which is no small task without a sink or running water) and tidy the cabin, do forty minutes of yoga, make breakfast, clean myself, write, and begin my daily project. At the end of the day, I take a walk or cross country ski, make dinner, and read. This routine wavers, and some days are much more productive than others. The point is I’m happy and healthy and moving forward, even on the colder and grayer days of the week. I am challenging myself to fill my life with necessity (water, food, heat, creative energy, exercise) and to dispel excess waste (worry, stuff, boredom, materialism). Thank you for listening to my journey towards simplicity. Erin
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Meet ErinJournalist, adventurer, writer, musician, dancer, linguist, and cook, ready to tell you about her ridiculous attempts to live in the Alaskan wilderness without running water and live beyond the woods Archives
April 2016
Categories |