Once Upon A Time …
“I hate this diary! It feels so childish. I am 15 now and I feel like shit. School sucks and at home we have no money. It is not like we are pathetic or something, but we are not doing any fun stuff anymore. I even have to try and prevent mum or dad needing to take me to the cinema, for the gasoline is too expensive. Better get a lift with others. The paper is gone, magazines are gone and we probably cannot afford to go on a holiday. I just need to get out of this goddamn city, with its goddamn school and its goddamn children. I want OUT!”
I read the words again. And a third time. As I was clearing out the cupboards, I had stumbled upon a stack of old diaries. This was the final page of the final diary and reading it broke my heart. This young woman felt so trapped. Trapped in her family, the school system, the city. Come to think of it, had I not later felt trapped in my body and job, too? And even now, 15 years later, did I not feel trapped in the money-driven economy and a mortgage that now forced me to sell my house?
I put the diary aside and thought about the coffee I had 4 months ago with a new friend of mine. We both participated in an online training and figured it would be nice to meet each other in real life, too. I remember telling her I was scared. My house was being sold because I had not been able to pay the mortgage for over a year. And it was not as if it looked like things were going to change very soon.
I had only a few months left to figure out where to go, and that freaked me out. Because how was I going to dig up a monthly rent, if I was not even able to dig up a monthly mortgage?
I also remember sharing with her that I kept seeing photo’s, articles, videos and the like from people living on the road. Most of them had a campervan that they were travelling the world with.
Those stories spoke to me, but my mind was not able to see how I could get myself a campervan if I was not even able to pay rent. And how would I sort it out with my post? The registration of my business? The availability of internet and wifi? Oh god no, there were way too many obstacles to make that dream come through on such a short notice.
I smiled as I sipped my tea and stared out of the window. I had always loved the view from my apartment during summer. The big luscious green trees covered the buildings on the other side of the railway track and muted the trains passing by. I watched how the dancing leaves shattered pieces of sunlight everywhere. It was truly magical to see. But was life not always? Who would have thought I would be sitting here today on the verge of the biggest adventure of my life? I would have never dreamed of this to happen when I had that coffee 4 months ago.
But it did. And it had become so clear, too. So beautifully clear, that I was absolutely certain about this. Did I think I was crazy? Yes. Did others think I was crazy? Probably. But all doubts had disappeared when I when a friend and I were taking a walk in the forest and she had asked me
What do you need?”
“What do you mean, what do I need? I need a place to live, that is what I need. So I need clients to make money so that I can rent a house.”
Again, she asked me “What do you need?”
I stopped, looked at her and sighed “I need a break.”
We had sat down on one of the benches in the park. And I had realised I indeed just needed a break. A moment to breath. A safe space to unwind for a second. So I took it right then and there. I closed my eyes and breathed. Deeply. Worry had come up and I had let it be. Tears had welled up and I had let them come. And slowly but surely I had sunken into the stillness I so knew to love. We sat. In silence. For god knows how long.
But in that silence, I had a vision. Of a house out in the fields. A house where I felt safe, warm, supported and loved. And I had known, instantly, that I had to leave behind what was, in order to find what is. Meaning that I had to pack my back and find this place. For I had known it was out there. I had known it was waiting for me to arrive.
I finished my tea, looked at the stack of old diaries and wondered if I would ever need them for a book or something. I intuitively took a photo of the page I just read, noted the original date and threw the stack away. No more old stuff. Time for a new beginning. In about 2 weeks times I would officially be a nomad. Travelling the world as a modern gipsy. Not with a campervan just yet, but with rock-solid faith that this way was the way forward for me.”