Hey y'all! This is my 50th Substack post! Anyone up for a bit of a celebration?
On June 18th, I celebrated my tenth anniversary of nomadic living with a nice travel center bath. While that may sound gross to some, the workers clean between every visitor. Betcha you don't disinfect your home shower/tub after every use. If you do, I applaud you. And I say thank you to the worker who had to wash our muddy towels and that tub. Constant camping comes with a few drawbacks like spending a lot of time in nature and, well, being “camp clean”. A deep, endless bath is the only thing missing in life while on the road. We also had two day, three meal burritos as big as our heads at a local food truck. Scrumptious, and we didn't have to make them!
As I still fervently working on my memoir of a decade of travel, I hage landed upon a few truths about nomadic life. Allow me to unfurl a few things that I have learned:
Every ounce counts. Carrying the baggage of other lifetimes steals the joy and promise of this one precious moment. Emotional crap dissolves when you see your part in your lessons and realize that each of us is a spiritual being having a human experience. We are here to learn and grow and you (and they) couldn't possibly get every bit of it right. It was what it was, and it is what it is, and we are what we are.
People head to the way-back seat and leap out the hatch when you can't spend hours on the phone rehashing the tragic and disappointing bits of their lives that they aren't willing to work towards changing (if they can be changed). When you put in the effort and find the courage to live your dream, some will applaud you and some will despise you for having the courage to push past your own personal obstacles when they aren't able to. The ones who suddenly razz you from the bleachers will come as a shock, but the true-blue friends who understand give and take will step forward and fill in the gaps.
Fear has no place in the shotgun seat. No matter where you find yourself, you can live in fear or in faith. Each of us is divinely led and protected if we choose to acknowledge the blessing and walk in that truth.
Things happen for you, not to you. Victimhood will send you skidding back to the sticks-and-bricks life in a flash and cost you the respect of your would-be supporters. Give it your very best shot and do the work, and providence will provide everything you still need. Be a good friend and walk through the world in service to others and you will never do without. Gratitude makes a hearty feast out of crumbs.
Leave your expectations at the curb. There will be wondrous days and horrific days on the road. Linger awhile on memories of the wondrous. Applaud yourself for making it through the horrific.
Resourcefulness expands as one overcomes the impossible. When you arrive on someone's doorstep, meet them where they are today instead of wanting them to be that same person you knew at some other time in your life. You might walk in on the real messiness of their existence instead of what they would like you to see. They may see an unfavorable side of you on a rotten day. Scroll back to that "we are all human" part but nurture and insist upon your own peace of mind above all else. That and a tank of gas will keep you cruising on down that road.
Don't cry over the detours. Some of the most magical stuff happens when things don't go as planned. Constantly zipping around the country like a comet causes you to miss sights only seen on backroads while in slow-mosey mode. Some "go times" needed to be "rest and recuperate times" instead, but that's not a bad thing. Pedal, then coast, that's how you enjoy life the most. If you aren't having fun, be willing to change direction.
I have learned that I am happiest out in nature and that this life has healed my mind, body, and spirit. While I endeavor to share the origin of my nomadic leanings through more detailed backstories in my memoir, I assure you, I have much more to say on this subject. For now, I leave you with one parting thought.
If you don't head toward your dreams, they will dissolve like cotton candy in the rain. Take one step this summer, and if you step just right, you might knock it right outta the park. I did. Enjoy these vintage Desert Rose pics and let me know YOUR plans!
Down the road we go,
Brenda Cordray
The Desert Rose