I am isolated. Adrift in a stream of reality I could only dream of before being here. Where ever we are, our reality, imagined by me or you, supports how we believe we wish to exist.
Until I stepped out of my safe(fear driven) job, culture and belief system, I was dependent on my structured life to define who and what I was. I'm still connected to that reality, living on the avails of 20 years of pension payments, but I am proceeding through life differently in a new and alien culture.
For starters I'm sleeping in a tent, eating mostly locally grown vegetables and helping to build an earthen house.To go anywhere I take the bus or walk.
I know this is possible back home too, yet it seems more real, more intense, more dramatic and essential here. The options are limited, yet I feel no lack. (Well maybe good chocolate occasionally.)There are things to do, challenges to overcome, meals to cook and daily tasks to complete. All my life I've yearned for this simplicity, to live outside mostly, with only the distractions that one's immediate surroundings can generate.
We are far from the nearest town, most services and dependable internet. There is cell coverage depending where you are standing. And I put the cell phone away, since no one is going to call me anyway.
This close to the equator the sun sets at 7 and it gets dark fast. Except it isn't mostly, the milky way a bright swath across the sky. The moon rising full or setting as a sliver in the morning are reminders of past times, and the passage of time. There are moments when time almost stands still; a rainbow arcing across the vista, lightening flashing from all directions and those incredible light shows of sunrise and sunset.
Daily I wake early as the dark fades, the first morning bird song from one particular bird followed by another different song and another. I write awhile, have some fruit and the day begins as workers arrive, tools are collected and the house slowly emerges from the land.
Stone and earth, clay and sand, water and local labour form this building. It is a kind of primal experience with overtones of elegance and sophistication from our skills and knowledge.
I am happy, content and prospering. Privacy and isolation have never been that attractive to me but here there is something refreshing, powerful and soothing about wandering the land, watching the weather, throwing mud at the walls and being present in every moment to what is.
Until I stepped out of my safe(fear driven) job, culture and belief system, I was dependent on my structured life to define who and what I was. I'm still connected to that reality, living on the avails of 20 years of pension payments, but I am proceeding through life differently in a new and alien culture.
For starters I'm sleeping in a tent, eating mostly locally grown vegetables and helping to build an earthen house.To go anywhere I take the bus or walk. I know this is possible back home too, yet it seems more real, more intense, more dramatic and essential here. The options are limited, yet I feel no lack. (Well maybe good chocolate occasionally.)There are things to do, challenges to overcome, meals to cook and daily tasks to complete. All my life I've yearned for this simplicity, to live outside mostly, with only the distractions that one's immediate surroundings can generate.
We are far from the nearest town, most services and dependable internet. There is cell coverage depending where you are standing. And I put the cell phone away, since no one is going to call me anyway.
This close to the equator the sun sets at 7 and it gets dark fast. Except it isn't mostly, the milky way a bright swath across the sky. The moon rising full or setting as a sliver in the morning are reminders of past times, and the passage of time. There are moments when time almost stands still; a rainbow arcing across the vista, lightening flashing from all directions and those incredible light shows of sunrise and sunset.
Daily I wake early as the dark fades, the first morning bird song from one particular bird followed by another different song and another. I write awhile, have some fruit and the day begins as workers arrive, tools are collected and the house slowly emerges from the land.
Stone and earth, clay and sand, water and local labour form this building. It is a kind of primal experience with overtones of elegance and sophistication from our skills and knowledge.
I am happy, content and prospering. Privacy and isolation have never been that attractive to me but here there is something refreshing, powerful and soothing about wandering the land, watching the weather, throwing mud at the walls and being present in every moment to what is.
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