Belongings and belonging
I’ve just had a chat over a cuppa with my current landlady at the kitchen table in this old rectory where I’m staying (in the very same room I inhabited for five years from 2003). Moving here back then marked the start of what became a thriving photography career. This time, over 20 years later, it marked the end of that photography business. Along with the marriage, the sense of home: the animals, the garden.
She asked me how I’m going to ‘manage’ with finding a place to live long-term, how did I find the guts to leave the life I had with my husband, leap into the unknown, and it turned out to be the beginning of a long meandering mardle. They were very good questions, ones that I’ve pondered on, worried, panicked and frightened myself half to death with by overthinking my ‘homeless’ predicament since ‘22... The past few years have made me re-question what a sense of belonging truly is. I’m realising more and more that it’s an internal state of stability that’s important, not one that’s tied to external circumstances, belongings or others. On Vipassana retreat not so long ago, I learned that there’s a name for this state - it’s called ‘equanimity’.
I realised in the transition to an alternative living style just how much stuff I’d accumulated. I didn’t find it all that difficult to resign to the bonfire a lifetime of personal photographs and business paperwork. I’m quite practiced in the art of ending chapters and beginning anew. I miss the odd article of clothing, kitchen implements. But I don’t miss the burden of the weight of those belongings. It seems to me that the more space I have, the more I fill it. Moving into a van meant dramatic downsizing. It's turned out to be quite cleansing. I’m going to do more of it.
I wasn’t equanamous with living in the van. Van Dass has served his purpose. I laid the floor, carpeted the walls, painted the cupboards, waxed the Victorian wardrobe, used my sewing skills to make all the upholstery, curtains and window covers. Duncan did the rest, the ‘man’ bits involving tech and maths and woodworking skills. He even made my compost toilet! So Van Dass enabled me to move back into myself, to discover my weaknesses and strengths. It took a long time, and what felt like a lifetime of tears. I was in a mental state of inequanimity. If there is such a word.
The thing is, for me at least, when you realise you’re not living in your Truth, in an unhappy, confused state, you have to move on, move out, aspire to live closer to one’s own true nature. For the sake of oneself and for all of those in one’s life. No matter the consequences. It’s about personal integrity, clarifying morals and standing up; being sovereign.
I’m not particularly clear on what I want. In terms of the material world, I know I want some form of stability. I’ve always dreamed of living sustainably in a natural build, being self-sufficient, practicing permaculture. But quite how I’ll get there from here I don’t yet know. I’m watching this space.
I’m planning on putting Van Dass up for sale in the spring. He has years of adventures to enjoy with someone else now. We’re done. The perfect new owner is waiting in the wings!
