Archive for voluntary simplicity

Final Dispatches from Tasmania

March 15, 2010 · Filed under The Big Lap, Uncategorized, voluntary simplicity

Waiting for the barge to take us across Pieman River at Corinna

After leaving St Marys (broken-hearted) we did a token tour through the north & west of the state, incorporating Tamar Valley, LaTrobe, Penguin, Burnie, Waratah, Corinna, Zeehan, Strahan, Cradle Mountain, Sheffield, and culminating in hours at a park in Devonport waiting for the boat to the mainland.

We’re back in the tent, which produces mixed feelings in me.  I love the liberation of the tent.  It truly is simple living, and it’s amazing how relaxed I can feel in this mental space (particularly when I didn’t experience life in St Marys as particularly stressful!)  Equally though, the tenting challenges of the essentials of life…. going to the toilet, being clean, producing healthful meals…. when you are used to taking these things for granted can be, well, *challenging*.  Luckily the weather held for us, so we didn’t have to achieve these in freezing rain.

We lost our shower tent in Victoria.  Not sure what to do about this.  Without a shower tent I am reluctant to free camp, as no sooner do you set up, than another group arrives and then you have to march off miles away in order to go to the toilet (if the terrain allows any privacy) and wait for darkness – and the cold – before washing.   But to buy another one is sort of expensive….. and are we really going to use this a lot once we’re home?  But without a shower tent you either have to be *far* from the beaten track or pay for the privilege of participating in caravan park culture.

I have to say it was a rude shock to be suddenly reintroduced to caravan park culture.  It’s hard to discuss it without sounding like an incurable snob.  (See www.stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2009/08/14/128-camping/ for evidence that I am not completely oblivous to the ridiculous nature of our quest.)   At one stage we had a list going: “Things Overheard at the Caravan Park”.  I’ll have to see if I can find this.

Anyway, now that we’ve hit the mainland I feel this overwhelming urge to bolt for home.  Crazy, for many reasons, the main one being that our “home” isn’t actually available, and the earlier we get to Perth, the more weeks we’ll be squatting in my brother’s spare room.

Lake Plimsoll

Comments (3) »

Renunciation

February 23, 2010 · Filed under feminism, parenting, society, spirituality, voluntary simplicity

I recently had the privilege of reviewing an academic paper.  The main premise was that the healthy authentic self is an ethical self.  I won’t repeat the whole argument here, but one sideline discussion was the idea that “decluttering” (physical and mental) is a core mechanism for revealing truth… as evidenced by many modalities – voluntary simplicity, meditation, renunciation.

There was a nice irony as I workshopped a paper on this particular topic, and (of course) starting thinking….. why I am I doing this for someone else?….. I could be writing my *own* academic papers!  And proceeded to waste a lot of time researching post graduate programmes… being concurrently aware that I almost certainly *can’t* squeeze this commitment into family life.   My time may come.  It’s just not now.

It made me think about renunciation.

I was incredibly fortunate, that early in my mothering journey I came across the wisdom of “mothering as surrender”.  And this has sustained me through labor pains, years of breastfeeding and comforting children through the night, years of choosing not to go out at night… or even during the day, in order to “be there”.  The shock of my love for them revealed my parenting truth.  My needs were secondary to their needs.  

 The other part of surrender is relinquishing external measures of success.  No more job title, no more company car, no more letters after your name, no more “achievements”.   (I think this is why I bloom like a flower when anyone says my kids are lovely/well behaved/cute….. whatever….. even though I know it is ephemeral and chances are in the next moment they will be feral monsters and I am also, apparantly, responsible for that too.)

All of this I have done willingly, and I have gained more that I could ever have imagined.  Really, exactly as the reading of any scriptures would suggest.   But.  But.  Sometimes I flail like a fish on the end of a hook.  I am not enlightened yet.

I want to bow down before the many amazing mothers that I know.  Especially some of the single mothers, who have given up far more than I have – putting up with stigma, living on pensions, doing it alone, with not even a partner to witness and appreciate their struggles.

A recently reported case in the family court.  Mr & Mrs Rose lived in Sydney with their daughter.  Mr Rose found well paid employment in a distant mining town and they relocated.  Within 12 months their marriage broke down and Mrs Rose wanted to return to Sydney with their daughter.  Mr Rose applied to the family court to prevent this.  During the trial:

Judge to Mrs Rose:  “If I order that you can’t take your daughter to Sydney with you, will you stay in this town?”

Mrs Rose:  (baffled by this odd rhetorical question)  “Of course”

Judge to Mr Rose:  “If I order that Mrs Rose can take her daughter to Sydney – will you go to Sydney to be close to your daughter?”

Mr Rose:  “No”

The judge ordered that the mother couldn’t relocate with her daughter and she  now lives in the caravan park with her daughter - all she can afford – waiting for the appeal.

Pause now for a PRIMAL ROAR OF ANGER as we witness yet again how patriarchy takes the precious jewel of motherlove and strings it up to suit itself.  This woman  is prepared to sacrifice almost everything to be with her daughter.  She’s surprised by the very question.  (And apologies to the many men I know who would scorn this man’s idea of being a father.)

So…… renunciation.  Buddha did it.  Jesus did it.  Parents do it.  I am hardly doing it at all, and yet the rewards are boundless.

Comments (4) »

Work, and the next generation

January 15, 2010 · Filed under homeschooling, parenting, society, voluntary simplicity

I’ve been doing a bit of reading about “work” recently – coincidental snippets that pushed me to ponder (again) the meaning of work.  Stuff about the industrial revolution,  the rise of the protestant work ethic,  religious fears about “idle hands”, government employment policies, etc.

Anyway, I should warn you that when I was last studying management techniques more than six years ago, there was lots of discussion around how the best way to motivate workers was by ensuring that their identity was built around their job title and performance at work. (You *are* your job.)  So they’re probably putting drugs in the kettle by now.

My grandparents were all working class.  My parents seem to have been “aspirational” types, and did the hard yards of pulling our family into the middle class – they both achieved a “first” for their family by going to university.   After a stint as a SAHM, my mum returned to work with a vengence, and both my parents worked full time into their 60s.   They both had this *strong* work ethic….  it seems to have been the unquestioned assumption that drove their lives.  You just had a job and you worked at it.   In response to retirement my dad drank a lot more, and my mum pretty much kept working full time - as a volunteer.

I remember when P dropped down to a four day week.  Virtually every Friday, Dad would say “Is P on holiday?”  And I would say, no, he doesn’t work Fridays, he only works Monday to Thursday, and Dad would *marvel* at this wonderful, outlandish idea.  He would shake his head:  “I never thought of it!” 

P and I have managed to sustain the status quo I guess.  We’re “middle class”.  I went to university.   P & I both worked full time for around 16 & 12 years respectively.  We took on a mortgage in order to achieve the requisite “home ownership”.  I’ve since retired under the guise of “motherhood” and P’s dropped his work hours.   My children have been witness to a *lot* of conversations around “How can we organise ourselves so we don’t have to go to (f–king) work??”

Put it this way – P & I have not achieved any “upward social mobility”.   But we haven’t “lost” ground either….. mainly due to luck, and the workings of entrenched privilege, I guess.    We’re just not aspirational, in the same way that I think my parents were.  The luxury of the middle class childhood meant, I guess,  that we didn’t really need to be.    As we’ve got older the focus of our attention has been around how to maintain some  of these middle class luxuries that we value – eg travel –  for the least possible effort.   We have thrown *off* the yoke of the (paid) work ethic.

So the point of this post is…..  what will my kids make of all this??   They’ve been raised in a household that doesn’t value paid work – other than as a necessary evil – certainly not as a life path.  While P *used* to go to work (Mon – Thurs), he hasn’t gone to work at all this year.  I don’t go to work.  We openly plot ways in which we can reduce paid work.  We talk about others “working too much”…. I mean, the list goes on!  

Of the many reasons that we homeschool, one is that school is too restrictive and burdensome….  too much like work!    How could we send our kids into an institution five days a week, when we find that idea too burdensome ourselves?  Let alone “homework”….  it took me years to rid myself of the need to “bring work home”….. I certainly don’t want my kids to form *that* bad habit!

So, I wonder, what will the kids do?  I don’t *think* we’re one of those “jobless families” contributing to intergenerational disadvantage and welfare dependency…. but if we moved country we would definitely be jobless (we like to call it retired).  Will they resent every hour at paid work because we reinforced it was such purgatory?  Will they choose poverty over work?  Will they rebel and work like demons until they drop dead?  Stay turned to find out, I guess.

Comments (1) »

Village Snippets

January 3, 2010 · Filed under community, voluntary simplicity

Ronnie Rat races to the finish line

New Year’s Day was a big day in the village….  at the local track.  We wandered over to see my pick, Ronnie Rat, blitz the field.  Things to like about village events include the fact that the whole community is represented, young, old, in-between….. as events are limited so we all go to what *is* on offer.  Also, the admirable life balance demonstrated by local business owners, who shut up shop in order to attend, and/or recover from their attendance.

On Thursday I found a fruit and veg truck parked in front of my house….. nominally delivering to the bakery, but also selling to the public.  The boys and I bought up big.  I didn’t have enough money in my wallet, so the kids then went back by themselves to pay the balance and get the change….  they were filled with the importance and success of this mission.  Yum yum, we then gorged ourselves on perfect fruit.  This is now my regular Thursday event.

Diagonally opposite us is an outfit called “Cranks and Tinkerers”.  This has become somewhat of a mecca for P, where he can chat to fellow…..  cranks and tinkerers I guess….. and pore over their obscure collections. 

Basically, our life is the opposite of the old saying “if you want something done, ask a busy person.”  If you want something done, don’t ask us, because we’re struggling to fit in anything much.  I needed to go to the post office, probably a round 400m trip from my front door.  It took me at least 10 days to get there.

Comments (2) »

Shelter

January 1, 2010 · Filed under voluntary simplicity

I think I may have invested more time than the average animal in sourcing and securing shelter.   I am embarrassed to admit how much time I have spent considering housing.  A lot.  A lot of time thinking about where to live, and how to afford it, and then a lot more time thinking about how to change the house I’ve bought (to better reflect my “style”).  Marital conversations centred on “what we could do to the house” and more often than not a lot of P’s time, in trying to manifest the dream.  And then a lot of time spent working to pay for it all.

So, I am experiencing renting as a kind of liberation.  It’s so relaxing *not* to own the house you live in.  Not only do you not have to do anything vis-a-vis the improvement and maintenance of the house, but all the headspace that could potentially be sidetracked into “home improvement” is freed up for other activities.  For example, this house doesn’t have a bath.  If it was my house I’d like to have a bath, so even if money for a bath was light years away, I would spend time trying to work out how I could reconfigure the bathroom to include a bath, and then realise that the bathroom was really in the “wrong spot”, so….. etc etc.   Because I’m renting, I don’t even have to spend time thinking where to hang my calendar.  I can’t put a hook in the wall, so I just bung it on an existing hook.  Done!  

The other part of the liberation of renting, is you completely avoid the trap of seeing where you live as some type of expression of identity….. and therefore no investment in “homewares” is required.

We are lucky as we already have a house, so unlike many renters I know, I don’t have to spend time thinking “how can I buy a house?”  I don’t have to spend *any* time thinking about housing!!  It’s only now that I’m *not* thinking about it, that I realise how much time has been devoted to it in the past.  (Aside here to note that I can’t emphasise enough how lucky this really is….  fifty percent of voluntary simplicity is the ‘voluntary’….. you have to perceive that you have a real choice.)

I’m loving being so transient.  I’m so glad I don’t have any of my Perth stuff with me.  Our house here was unfurnished.  In the car we had beds (swags), a  fridge, kitchen stuff and a camp table with two camp chairs.  A few sticks of furniture left in the shed have been brought back into the house.  At the local second hand shop I bought a lounge suite for $30 (no that is not a misprint) and a dining table with four chairs for $65.  I discovered “the best op shop in Tasmania” where you pay $2 per plastic bag of stuff!!  From here I got extra sheets and blankets, warm clothes, and treated us to some china plates and cups.  We have time to handwash, and watch the toast brown under the grill.  Home sweet home.

The first test is to see whether I even trust myself to return to a house that “is mine”, and the second will be to see if I can bring this liberation back to that house.  It will only be temporary shelter, even if I stay there until I die.

Leave a comment »

This Camping Life

October 13, 2009 · Filed under voluntary simplicity

Benefits of living in a tent:

1.   No housework

2.  Everything has to go back into it’s place every time you move. 

3.  When you do the grocery shopping, you put everything away into the kitchen in the car in the carpark, and when you get home, there’s no putting away.

4.  You can’t buy or keep any extraneous stuff

5.  There’s no TV

6.  Everyone goes to bed when the sun goes down, and gets up when the sun comes up

7.  Your menstrual cycle aligns with the moon

8.  You rediscover novels (normally I can’t concentrate on them – I’m too busy with my ‘important’ reading.  I knew novels were often better than non-fiction at probing the human condition – I’d just forgotten)

9.  You rediscover music (though unfortunately not everyone wants to listen to blasting 80′s rock as I relive the road trips of my youth)

10.  You live outside engaged with nature

11.  You live outside and engage with other people

Benefits of living in a house:

1.  You have clean feet and you can put them into clean shoes

2.  You can choose privacy when you want it

3.  You can have a garden

4.  You can have an afternoon nap even if it’s boiling hot

5.  You can keep the books you love and have them on a shelf

Can these two worlds be combined?  I suspect not.

Comments (1) »

Dispatches from Timber Creek

September 27, 2009 · Filed under environment, health, spirituality, The Big Lap, voluntary simplicity

Palm Springs, Duncan Rd

Palm Springs, Duncan Rd

Returned to Kununurra via the Duncan Road that runs along the other side of the Bungles.  Caught up again with friends who live there (Yay friends!  It’s so good to see familiar faces.)

Lunch at Timber Creek, and we finally met up with the ‘camel man’ we had been hearing about on and off since Karijini.  He is travelling around Australia with two camels, towing a buggy made from an old car.   A true incarnation of the simple life.   It was a privilege to meet him. 

Aged 62, originally from Germany, he has been touring Australia for seven years.  He started on a bike, and then moved to camels for lifestyle reasons.   He travels around 20km a day.  10km first thing in the morning, and then rests in the shade.  Sets off again at 3pm for another 10km.  His only expense is food, and decent walking shoes.  He advised that he is on the pension, but generally saves about half of it.  He said when he does spend more than half the pension, it’s on things that harm his health – eg smokes, junk food – so it’s best not to.  He definitely has a clear philosophy on the value of the simple life for both him and the environment, and has set out to achieve this.

Part of me felt I couldn’t cope with that lifestyle… but the other, larger part, felt envy.  Trying to unpick what it was he was doing that appealed to me, I came to the conclusion that he had done a pretty good job of creating a monastic life.  The self-discipline, the daily rhythm, the lack of belongings, but mainly all that uninterrupted *time* for contemplation.  (The joy of being alone!)  Plus a real connection with nature, through being outdoors and care of the camels.

I never occurred to me when I was younger, but now I can really see the appeal of becoming a nun.  I think it would be easier for me than being a parent.  I would have issues with the hierarchy….. but this would just be another avenue through which I would interrogate my control issues.

T feeds Snowy an apple

T feeds Snowy an apple

home

home

No caption required

No caption required

Leave a comment »

Dispatches from the Pistol Club

August 13, 2009 · Filed under cooking, The Big Lap, voluntary simplicity

pistol clubBack in Broome, but this time we’re staying at the Pistol Club – one of the overflow camping sites, where “shootin’ comes first” and camping is a lucrative sideline.   The Pistol Club is run by a chap from Yorkshire, with an open neck shirt displaying various rocks and chrystals.  A total legend, he knows everyone’s business, and is equally skilled at yelling at grey nomads as they back up their caravans and shutting down binge-drinking backpackers.  His policy is “no-one gets turned away”, and so far only two groups have had to camp in the actual firing range.  I can report that my kids are able to sleep through close range gun shots.

We’re now in the tent, which I’m  told has moved me along the continuum from softcock to “hardcore”.  We have sold  the camper trailer here in Broome….  which has provided further evidence that my life purpose is actually to “sort stuff out”.  I’d sorted stuff into the car with the remainder to go home in the trailer….. and now I have to sort the remainder, to determine what, if anything, is worth paying freight to post back.  Sigh.  Is my resistance to stuff manifesting in this wierd way that I have to constantly deal with it…. until I am reconciled?

In answer to the query on logistics, I provide the following details:

Fuel:  We have 80l in the tank, and two 20l jerries.   So far, we haven’t *really* needed the jerries, though we have emptied them for better weight distribution.  In this petroleum based society, you can get fuel at places where you can’t get fruit and veg.

Water:  With the trailer, we carried 120l of water (80l tank and 2 x 20l jerries)  We now have 110l (2 x 20l and 7 x 10l containers)  Usually there is water around, even if it’s not potable – so in those locations we use our water for cooking and drinking only.   When there’s no water available, I’m astonished by how frugal with water we can be.  Washing up takes only half  a breakfast bowl of water and if we *do* wash ourselves, we share water and use a flannel.

Food:  This is my on-going concern and I will definitely have to carry less food in our new arrangement.  Generally if I have tinned tomatoes and lentils I have the basis for a variety of meals.  Obviously we don’t carry meat, and this is a big space and cold storage saving.  At the risk of sounding like a pioneer, my main concern is being able to carry enough flour.  I can see why stations sold flour to travellers in days gone by…. once you are making all your own bread-type products, you go through it really quickly. 

These are the main things we’ll be carrying from now on, with everything else up for debate.  On the roofrack we’ll have the tent, two double swags, table and chairs and the extra diesel.  In the back we have the fridge, food, water, air compressor, cooking stuff, clothes bags, and guitar.  Amongst the passengers we have  toy cars, lego, books, paper and pencils, tools, spare shoes, laptop and yoga mat.

It’s a challenge now to see how little we can manage with.  I suggested to P that when we get back we could just live in our own backyard and keep renting out the house.  It would be comparatively salubrious, as we would have access to the shed as well.

cable beach sunset

Comments (5) »

Dispatches from Rocky Pool

July 1, 2009 · Filed under being present, environment, The Big Lap, voluntary simplicity

Rocky Pool WARNING:  gritty details ahead. 
P felt that information about my period was “too much information.”  But I’ve decided that these issues are in fact the essence of the trip.  Is this the difference between travelling and a holiday?  When you have a holiday, you have paid – generally in advance – so that these issues have already been resolved.  Someone else miraculously produces a flushing toilet in a third world country.  When you’re “travelling” this can be the main focus:  Where are we sleeping tonight?  How will we wash?  Will there be a toilet?  So anyway, these issues came to a head at Rocky Pool for me, when a man spotted me doing number 2s in a ditch.  NOT a happy camper.   I then overcame a bout of diarhoea by will-power alone.  That night I was battling the end of my head cold, diarhoea, an incipient cold sore and thrush.  My suburban body was not coping with the rapid deterioration in my living conditions.  I sat outside on an upturned bucket, looking at the stars, and surprisingly, it was all worth it.  I teared up the sky was so beautiful.  What must it have been like to have lived when myth and legend alone explained such a nightly wonder?  Awe-some.
 
As it happened, in my hour of need we met a great older couple, who spend most of the year prospecting and living the simple life.  Their ablution system is worth reporting.  They have a shower tent (an item I previously discounted as unnecessary…. before I realised that free camp sites are actually populated) and in the tent they have a toilet seat and a bucket with a lid.  They wee into the bucket, which is emptied as required, and they poo into plastic bags – which are tied off and disposed of at the next bin – like a doggy bag!  Ingenious!  I must confess some slight concerns about the public health aspect, but desperate times call for desperate measures.  As a shower, they have a Napisan container with holes drilled in the bottom.  You heat up your water, half fill it and hold it over your head.  You then shampoo and soap, and then another half container rinses you off.  Ron even made me one!  (He carries a drill with him, which I thought was amazing until P told me that we also have a drill with us….. oh.)  And I can report from the frontline that this is a very effective shower.  We have added “shower tent” to our list of “things to buy next time we get to a town with shops.”
Rocky Pool
 

Leave a comment »

Back in the virtual world

May 22, 2009 · Filed under homeschooling, The Big Lap, voluntary simplicity

Sorry for my absence dear reader.  Further PC problems came to haunt us.  It’s like technology can recognise a luddite at 100 paces, and enjoys playing with our minds.  Come the rise of the machines, we’ll be the first to die.

Which segues neatly to the topic du jour:  Gadgets, Gizmos and Gazingus Pins.

We leave in 5 days.  Gasp.  After a recent farewell picnic, a friend noted a phenomenon that has become so commonplace that I had stopped noticing.  Namely, that in the context of the trip, everyone has an idea for a “must buy” item.   More often than not, they are gadgets (eg GPS, EPIRB, IPOD).   None of which we own, and most of which we probably couldn’t operate.  My favourite suggestion was from one friend who obviously has a part handle on us.  He queried whether we were deliberately setting ourselves the challenge of going around Australia using only paper maps.  If this was the case, he recommended that we purchase a GPS –  just kept in its box – in case we really needed it.  I was able to stun other friends with the revelation that we had purchased a “CD case” rather than an Ipod.  Truly retro.

I must confess that I did investigate a SAT phone – only to baulk at the price.  This involved one lovely conversation with a Telstra employee – an even greater luddite than us – who advised that there was no such thing.   Another employee recognised a potential cash cow, and recommended that we upgrade our regular mobile phone to a “rural and regional model” on a monthly “plan”.  Further investigation revealed that the plan did not cover the purchase price of the phone – $1100!!!!!!  Come on!  Is *anyone* paying that??

I would like to suggest a modernisation of one of my favourite quotes from E M Forster:  “Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes”.  In the book it was written on a wardrobe, and in a previous life I painted it onto my own wardrobe… a suitable reminder that I could just wear something I already owned.

So I propose:  “Beware of all enterprises that require new gadgets”.   Code:  you don’t need them.

But just in case you think I’ve gone completely monastic, I *have* discovered something new to spend money on.  A whole new world of *audio* has opened up to me.  So far I have bought Barack Obama’s “Dreams of my Father”,  Helen Garner’s “The Spare Room” and “The Greatest Speeches in History”.  Can’t wait!!  For the kids, I also have the complete collection of Frog and Toad, some Roald Dahl and am awaiting delivery of the complete Susan Wise Bauer history of the world for children.  

Apparantly there is a book around called “Homeschooling in the Car”.  I’ve never come across it, but it may be that at the end of the trip I’ll be able to write my own version.

Comments (1) »

« Previous entries
Next Page »
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.