My apartment is filling up again, the more I look around the more new stuff appears. I care not for it. Having minimal objects throughout this place has been nice, was nice? It’s still sparsely decorated, a couch, a desk, a chest for a meditation altar with an accompanying cushion. Nothing on the walls, a bookshelf with no books – just masks I obsessively ordered and a few random knick-knacks sitting upon it. A wicker basket I bought (new object) to put throw pillows and a lap blanket in. My girlfriend’s dogs bed (new object) sits in the corner with squeaky stuffed animals and blankets a top of it. I really don’t mind the dog’s bed, although the basket is suspect.
I bought 5 t-shirts and a pair of pants recently, 2 pairs of shoes and some new work boots, retrieved some winter gear from the storage – my closet is now in need of cleaning. I look in it when I pass by it (being there are no doors on it) and think, “I’ve way too many clothes”. I’ve no dresser or tv in my room, just a footlocker for my unmentionables and valet (if you’re not sure what that is google it), 2 nightstands, a bed and now an electric heater (new object) that resembles a fireplace. I’ve really not much in there but it feels enclosed, feels tight, over filled. Something needs to go, but all that is there is almost a necessity.
The clothing thing gets me worst of all. All this matching and looking a certain way, it is so ego driven for me. The shirts have to have a particular fit, the Levis need to be faded to a certain color. Then there’s the colored socks for when I choose not to wear Vans, the bright white socks against shoes with no white on them and muddy green rusty brown patina pants does not go well. The hats need to match the outfit and fit in a particular way like the shirts. It’s odd that the shirts and the hats all fit differently even though they are the same brand, it’s odd and annoying and plays havoc on my perfectionism. A year or so back when I got rid of most my clothes, I was so much more at peace with all this. I needed not look for what to wear, I had denim jeans and dark colored shirts. It was all so simple. I’m again close to losing the privilege of having multiple colored clothing’s. There're some things I want to spend my time on and feeding my ego and insecurities are not one of them.
I think if I could move into my van now I would, yet running the business out of a camper van does not seem so easily done. Work truck, trailer, work storage, personal storage, moving all that around and chasing it down when I needed this or that seems as complicated as my getting dressed. The financial savings would be very minimal, maybe 3 or 4 hundred a month. I would need to join a gym for showers, extra gas for living in the van, eating out more often. I don’t know, maybe I would work 10 hours days, 3.5 days a week and get 3.5 days of rest and freedom, 3.5 days of exploring and mountain biking. I would have to scale way back, only 2 pairs of shoes, pants and shorts in the van, 4 or 5 shirts, a sweatshirt, a jacket, some come catch me’s and a few pairs of socks. It would get so simple, and it would get difficult in a way that would sooth my soul yet test my gumption.
I really believe I wasn’t put on this earth to live an easy bake oven life, simple ingredients cooked to perfection under a child safe lightbulb. If that had been the case I woulda been born with a trust fund and never woulda wound up an addict. My parents wouldn’t of been addicts, I never woulda hated myself and gave in to feeble attempts at suicide. I woulda never fought against authority. I woulda never chose the path of a Buddhist. I woulda never forged the roads I did. I woulda been laying pool side sipping smart drinks with little umbrellas, I woulda believed all I was told, I woulda never got addicted to drugs or lived out of my car. I woulda conformed, I woulda had it easy in my head, heart and life. Even when the opportunity arose for the easy route, I chose opposite it seems and I like to think I am better for it.
I’ve been thinking of my people who have given up the big city life of SLO for a yurt and organic farming in Santa Margarita, it sounds dreamy to me. Living somewhere off grid, in the country, the wilderness, somewhere with no concrete and hardships that remind you that you are alive. To live in the mountains, cut wood for heat and muck the stalls of happy horses. Grow my winters food and learn to can it, listen to the wind rustle through branches high above my head as I sit and watch green grasses grow. These are the dreamy thoughts, the pretty thoughts, but I’m sure there is much more I do not see that would not be so poetic. Like crossing the frozen earth in the wee hours of the morning to use the composting toilet in the lonely outhouse 20 yards away.
I mean really, I’ve no idea what it would be like to live off grid but it sounds delightful. I was never meant for this life I am leading, my soul was never meant to be here, making money and looking real put together when I leave the house. It’s all ego driven for me. For me it’s a constant breaking down of self and the life around me, seeing to what point can I bring myself to be closer to god, closer to what really matters above what I think maters.
This reminds me of riding my Harley and how cool I felt, I didn’t really think I was anything special but riding that motorcycle, the loud pipes, the shiny chrome, that made me feel special, made me feel like I was someone. I wasn’t though, I was only a figment of my imagination. Don’t get me wrong I loved to ride, loved to ride. I especially loved it the most when I was riding alone crisscrossing the state, riding through the Arizona desert or when I took that trip with a few friends up to Oregon or the trip to Yellowstone. I loved it most when I could get lost in it and I was a nobody. When I could be free of the self-obsession that created so much pain and chaos in my heart, my head and my life.
I come back to the line where someone said to me “simple is not enough” and I listened or my ego listened or my insecurity dreamt it up. What is wrong with simple, with average? Why is it we seek to be more and exist in a lofty state inside our head. Why must we choose to desire to feel important, to be “someone”. Fear of being alone? Lack of self-love? A severed connection with god? It’s like I want to purposely put myself in these positions, living a simple life, being humbled, disconnected from all the luxuries and pretty clothes to get closer to what I think I have been chasing my whole life, a connection to something greater than myself, my connection to a spiritual existence.
I know it can be found no matter my circumstances, no matter my position in life. I need not be a wondering monk, I need not live a struggle. I can find that connection no matter where I am outside of myself. But I am not of this, for whatever reason there must be a struggle, a hardship, a trudge – there must be something that challenges me, that makes me work towards everyday luxuries let alone have the fancy ones at my fingertips. On the way there is when I seem to find my soul, my passion for life, my spiritual connection to myself and the world around me.
I think of luxury, huge closets and triple gold Daytons, all the perfectly matching clothes. I think of a mini mansion and fresh cut green grass every week. I think of fancy hotel rooms and the VIP section at a swanky restaurant and Lakers games and how that draws on my desire for importance, wet’s the appetite of my ego. But this is not me, I know not how to live in that world, I’ve enough trouble living in the one I have now. I’ve a savings account and I feel I’ve too much and should give more to people that have less.
This has been my life’s quandary, dipping in and out of all the places I am not supposed to be and dreaming of the places I miss. This moment will pass and another will arise, maybe I will get to living out of my van or in a yurt one day soon or maybe I am just supposed to be here, practicing spirituality and constantly changing outfits, learning how to be here, practicing spirituality and not constantly change outfits. Either way when I settle back into now and let go of the neurosis, the obsessions, the desires and attachments, I find my equanimity. In these moments, what I wear, where I live and what I do outside of self has no bearing on my happiness and contentment is abound.
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