Three years ago almost to the day, I wrote about living small, and I still live small. I leave a small footprint on the earth — driving as little as possible, walking wherever I can; buying little, recycling what I can; getting rid of what possessions I can, scaling back on what I can’t. I am also a small thinker. Though I like to think I think big thoughts, I actually get bogged down in minutiae and over thinking. When I listen to music (which is almost never), I keep the sound turned way down. I would like to write expansively, but I write small, dredging each word and each idea out of the depths of my mind. As you can see, I’m not one of those people who take a mile when given an inch. In fact, when given an inch, I generally only take a centimeter.
Back then, I was still at my father’s house. (I just realized — if he were alive, he’d be 101 today!!) I was living in two small rooms even though the whole 3,500 square foot house was at my disposal. In fact, keeping to my habit of living small, I hadn’t even removed the curtain on the glass doors that separated my rooms from the rest of the house.
When my sister-in-law came to help ready the house for sale, she commented on how full of contradictions I was, talking about living out in the open on some sort of epic adventure, but living behind a curtain in that house.
I conceded she had a point and took down the curtain. It wasn’t exactly living large, but it was a start. Or so I thought.
Fast forward to today. I am again talking about some sort of epic adventure while living small in a curtained-off room. (Not literally curtained off — this time the room is separated from the rest of the house by solid doors.)
It’s not as if I haven’t done anything in these intervening years — I did go on one near-epic road trip in my restored VW Beetle and I . . . Pausing here to think. Was that it? Just that one adventure?
Sheesh. I do live small.
I need more adventures!
In late April, I will be heading out for a five-week road trip to Oregon and Washington. It was going to be six weeks to two months, but I told my dance teacher I would try to get back at the end of May to do another performance at the local college with my dance class. I’m sure it won’t surprise you to know I am ambivalent about it. I don’t like having to cut my trip short, don’t like having to travel on Memorial Day weekend, don’t like the idea of going back to the scene of my fall (the last time I did a performance at the college, I destroyed my arm). But . . . I love my belly dance costume, love the dance, and considering the state of my finances and the need to make a change one day soon, it might be the last time I ever get on stage.
So around and around I go.
Yep. Living small. Overthinking.
People have asked me what I expect from a wilderness trek of some kind, and maybe that’s the answer — to live large. Live large in the world. Live large in my own mind. Of course, then I’d have to ask my minutiae-oriented self what I mean by living large, and as with so much else in my life, I haven’t a clue.
Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Unfinished, Madame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.