Essentially, I own nothing.
The moment when, after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,
knowing at last how you got there,
and say, I own this,
is the same moment when the trees unloose
their soft arms from around you,
the birds take back their language,
the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can't breathe.
No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a visitor, time after time
climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way round.
~ Margaret Atwood ~
(morning in the burned house)
I sold Kurma Avatara (Turtle Goddess) yesterday, completing the final step in being able to book my flight for Ecuador in latter September. It was a stressful and bittersweet experience. Thankfully, it seems that the buyers have a true appreciation for the uniqueness of this little camper and will hopefully enjoy many adventures in her, just as I have.
I began shopping for tickets today.
Looking toward the driver's cab, the couch on the left makes out into a twin bed. Two swivel chairs on the right are between the table. Traveling alone, I used the top bunk for storage.
Looking toward the rear window, the refrigerator is on the left and the stove and sink are at the back. The door to the bathrom is on the right opposite the door to enter the camper. I will miss my little home on wheels (like the turtle, who carries her home on her back)!
Interesting about me and possessions. I love Margaret Atwood's poem, because it is essentially about stewardship, and as an expression of my philosophy of stewardship, I have always shared the material possessions entrusted to me.
I continue to revel in the joy of deep friendship and my California family's generosity in supporting me through this part of the journey. I will next post photos of some of the latest of these lovely and love-filled encounters.