i am seeking this simple being; this art of contentment... last week, we heard from Flower Patch Farmgirl... this week, i've asked Juliana Crespo of Shakti Mama, who recently sold her life possessions to move into an RV with her hubby and daughter, to talk about what it means to live with nothing... her thoughts make my spirit water. I remember when I was a little girl, only four or five years old, my grandma and I would travel to Campos, a small farming village, every couple of months or so, mostly when my grandma tired of the city. We’d travel there from Rio de Janeiro, a city in Brazil where a strange man once tried to lure me away from my grandma by offering me a Guarana, a popular Brazilian pop soda. We’d been at the park, and my grandma had looked away for one second, only to look back and see this strange man talking to me. She approached the man and said, in her brusque voice, “No, she would not like a Guarana.” Then she led me away.
For this reason, my relatives were always very careful to keep me nearby, and I do not remember ever playing out in the streets. We went to parks for that. So, I was always very excited by the prospect of going to Campos, where I could run through the corn stalks that looked like arms reaching up in hallelujah, and I could climb into the abandoned and dilapidated homes to look at the sky from those muddy floors. I could say hello to the horses who had become my friends (as flea-infested as they were!), and play barefoot in the streets with my friends.
At my great-aunt’s house, where there was no electricity, no running water, and no television, I experienced a metamorphosis. I was imaginative, carefree, and tranquil in a way I do not think I ever was in the city. It was there that I was always able to return to me, there, where animals and rivers and earth were all very real. There was always something very magical about this, and so I hold this memory to me as one might hold their small child to them.
Perhaps it is for this reason that when I think back to my early childhood, I do not think of the city as much as I think of the farm, of the kitchen with its stone floors, of the water well just yards from the house, of the baby chickens I loved to mother, of the dusty red roads, of the garden growing wild ferns and wildflowers, and of the cool breeze that made its way into the bedroom where my grandma and I slept in the mornings and evenings.
I think of this now as I think about how my family is poor. My family of four – Jeremy, my daughter Luna, and our old pup, Freddy – have recently moved into our RV. It is a space less than one hundred square feet. But, we did not do this not because we didn’t have a choice. Our original plan was to move to a piece of property we bought in North Carolina and build a yurt on it. Someday, we will do this.
For now, we want another sort of spiritual adventure. We are in love with the idea of traveling and understanding a country that is so often misunderstood. We are in love with living simply, and it is in this way, I believe, that we are becoming open to the more meaningful things in life. We have purged ourselves of so much – clothes, all our furniture, dishes, pots and pans, books, movies, kitchen appliances, art work, rugs, most everything – so that we have room in our hearts for a spiritual growth that begins with really seeing and understanding our country and its people. We want to experience the world not as a place of consumerism and greed, but as a place abundant with love and joy, as a place experiencing a spiritual transformation, as a place rich with culture and tradition and history.
I want to see the world as I saw it as a child in Campos, and perhaps this is very innocent of me, but I think there is something to be said for innocence in an adult who has experienced hardship. There was magic in the world when I was a child, a spiritual sort of magic, in the love I felt all around me, and I see this same magic emerging now, from places where I least expect it sometimes, from encounters with strangers who offer a smile or a helping hand, from the return to community all over the country, from this new emerging passion for simple lifestyles where less is more.
I feel this subtle shift in the air – or perhaps this perception is a reflection of the direction I’m moving towards in my own life – and I go after it, eagerly. I want to embrace whatever it is that my family is meant to do, and though I am scared sometimes, my conviction that this is our path – our journey – helps me see beyond the fear.
We will travel without plans, without timelines. We do not have jobs lined up. We do not have family or friends in many of the states we plan on visiting. We do not have money saved up. I realize that some might call this reckless or irresponsible. I understand that reasoning. But here’s the thing. My faith in God, in this spirit that prevails over all of us, is so strong, so undeniable, that I believe – I absolutely believe – that we will find whatever it is we need wherever we go. We live as traveling peasants, and we love this life. We love it because it is authentic to us. It is true to what is in our hearts at the moment. I do not think there is much more in life that is more precious or profound than that.
And, so, we embrace our upcoming journey. We embrace our poorness. We embrace our two plates, and our two cups, and our living room space that is also our bedroom and our office and our dining room space. All that we have is all we need in order to experience happiness, family, compassion, spirituality, love, and openness to our spirits’ journeys.
