I haven’t written a blog post in quite some time. Why? I’m not really sure. The easiest explanation is that I’m lazy and I could just leave it at that. However, deep down in my slothful and sluggish heart I know that’s not true.
I just haven’t really known what to say.
My head has been swirling with ideas for blog posts, haikus, and unfamiliar feelings of something, well, unfamiliar. I’ve heard about it, some of my best friends talk about it and they say it’s important. I’ve never had these feelings until now and while peculiar they’re also special feelings.
This is starting to sound like a cringeworthy 1970’s “Your Changing Body” video you might have seen in 7th grade.
So what is it? It’s living in the moment.
I’m an obsessive worrier. I overplan. Worst case scenario is my middle name. I lose sleep over things that might happen and never do. I lose sleep over things that have happened that I cannot change. Just like whistling and eating horse meat, this idea of living in the moment is truly something I thought I could never, ever do.
Yet here I am, with these strange peaceful feelings washing over me, albeit gently. I’ve definitely not reached the tsunami level of inner peace yet.
So how has that impacted the way I feel about writing? It’s strange because the whole purpose of this blog is to share our experiences with family, friends, and readers. But since my last blog post, which was before Christmas, I haven’t written a thing.
But I’ve wanted to.
I wanted to tell you how painful it was to leave Mexico early because of the civil unrest that went down just after the new year.
I wanted to tell you about how crossing the border into Guatemala felt like being kicked out of my family’s home.
I wanted to tell you about how shitty our first night in Guatemala was and how incredible the following three weeks at Lake Atitlan were.
I wanted to tell you about Antigua, how much fun we had there, and the incredible things we ate. Randy’s Sausage, I’m looking at you.
I wanted to tell you about how we got stuck driving in Guatemala City and almost died multiple times, either from a car crash or from one of us killing the other.
I wanted to tell you about crossing the border into Honduras on a sunny Saturday afternoon and how nice it felt to check off another country as we make our way ever southward.
But the truth here is that I didn’t elaborate on any of those things because I wanted to keep them just between Will and I and the people we’ve shared these experiences with. I wanted to be quiet, thoughtful, and let it all sink in.
And even though I’ve resisted with all my might I wanted to… live in the moment.
Our little blog doesn’t have the readership that might make me want to step back and keep things private. After all, I’ve written a pretty graphic post about how to have sex in a camper. I don’t really care about privacy. I know that there are probably a lot of people who haven’t even noticed the radio silence over here at The Life Nomadic. But by keeping some things to myself I’ve come to understand this trip a little bit better which has also allowed me to get a little bit better at handling it.
I’m still a lazy slob but I’ve been able to pay better attention to what’s happening around me, whether it’s inside the camper or out. And I’ve begun to sweep the floor and shake out the rugs more than once a week.
That’s a huge accomplishment. Huge. Truly spectacular.
No two adventures are exactly alike and I know that ours is vastly different from the trips other overlanders take. Work tends to dominate some of our choices and limits others. I used to feel like that was a hindrance more than anything else; I felt like we weren’t truly embracing the nature of this kind of trip.
But now I know differently. Like it or not, this is what our trip looks like. The location changes every few days or weeks but the fact of the matter is pretty simple.
We live in a camper.
We work in a camper.
We’re driving that camper south and doing the best we can along the way.
And while we have missed out on some opportunities and will continue to miss others that’s just the nature of this adventure. It’s ours and, like it or not, we’ll continue to do these things as best we can.
As far as me? This newfound ability (albeit a fledgling one) called living in the moment has given me something pretty special and that something is more moments, little treasures like the one I had last night.
A field full of dancing fireflies, their booties lit up like a gaudy Christmas tree in a frantic, horny display of luminescence.
Come on, I may have found some peace but I haven’t lost the middle school snark. I just wouldn’t be me without it.
It’s funny how there are different tiers of bloggers, and how we choose so share our lives while managing expectations of those with whom we share. As a blogger, I often think, as the song goes, “I’m not here for your entertainment.” I blog because I want to remember, not to entertain.
But then, I get an email from some person I don’t know who is immobile from some illness, or locked in a job they can’t leave, who tells me they are “living the dream” vicariously through my blog.
As a full time RVer, I am certainly not immobile, but instead paralyzed by the fear of crossing a border in my rolling home. I love overland travel, just not from behind the wheel. So I am “living the dream” vicariously through your blog.
Selfishly, I hope you have a few lapses back into the past long enough to share what overlanding life is like. Though I do get it that you’re not here for my entertainment. 😉