I appreciate the house in which I call home, but it anchors me to suburbia, and it’s suffocating me, holding me hostage, tethering me to the general population of a society that’s stretched like a steel spring. When a coiled spring is drawn out to its maximum tension, it snaps, and I have no desire to be standing in its vicinity exposed to flying, recoiling shards of spring steel. I endure life in my home, but I am not living a life free from the shackles of domestication. If my finances permitted me to purchase an RV or travel the world, perhaps I’d welcome returning home after each ‘vacation.’ However, going on vacation doesn’t appeal to me because the finiteness of the experience imposes time constraints, generates stress, and reminds me of the temporariness of vacationing and that I have to return home to take care of the business of living among the general population. I consider vacationing and having to head back home a negative feedback loop; it appeases the masses, but it does nothing for me.
My retirement permits me to endure the circumstances of my current living situation, not to experience freedom as I envision. I don’t want to be that old man sitting on a park bench wondering WTF, this is not living. I explored rejoining the workforce, working for ‘the man’ to supplement my retirement income so that I can go on vacation, return home, go back to work, repeat. No, that feedback loop will suck the life out of me. I spent 30 years doing that shit, and I ain’t gonna do it no more.
Pondering various scenarios, I’ve discerned the liquidation of house and 90% of possessions a feasible and prudent course of action to implement a new lifestyle of adventure and freedom, but not that of a nomad. I don’t need to perform any activity that doesn’t contribute to my future. Running off to join a caravan of nomads entices the wondering soul in me, and I’ve justified to myself why it makes sense, but the rationalist perched on my right shoulder proposes I examine in depth the alternatives that reveal themselves when I consider making a stand in suburbia. My circumstances can’t be that dire that I feel compelled to sell, pack, and bug out.
The truth I’ve learned is that the sweat, blood, and tears I invest in making repairs to my house and spirit encourage me to remain for act number two. The hero faces off with his nemesis, defeats him, and emerges in the finale a champion, damaged but not broken, standing before the gates of discipline as they open to freedom. That ending resonates in my heart, and it humbles me.