Eight years ago we sold our house, gave away our stuff, moved into a robust RV, and aimed ourselves squarely into the unknown.
Why did we do it?
Because normal, responsible adult life was destroying our family.
For years, we all left home every day to do work that was completely unrelated to our relationships with each other. My wife and I to our personal careers, to ‘earn’ our living. Our kids to school, where they were educated by other adults, and other children. Mostly other children, I think.
We’d rush back from our respective rat-races for the sacred family meal. That’s what keeps families together… they say. After our debriefing over take out, we’d retreat to our personal spaces to finish the days work, watch a little Netflix, and rest up to repeat it all again.
We were all as responsible as we could be. And, outside looking in… we were reaping the rewards for it. A custom house, new cars, good grades, and the biggest flat panel tv money could buy.
But underneath it all lurked a critical problem. Every day our separate, responsible lives, pulled us a little farther apart. Based upon our rate of drift, I calculated that in twenty years we would all be so far apart that we would represent little but distant holiday calls, and vague promises of future visits, to each other.
We didn’t become parents to raise strangers. So we did what any good carpenter who discovers a fatal flaw in his design would do… we stripped life back down to bare wood, and started over.
There was only one rule when we pulled out of our driveway and watched every thing we knew dissolve into the horizon behind us: no talk of going back for six months. Going from 4,000 sq feet of living space and all the luxuries of life, to the essentials crammed into a couple hundred square feet is the kind of change that creates big waves. Those need time to settle.
But after only a few weeks away from alarm clocks, and schedules, and the rest of the plate spinning routine that was our former lives… my wife’s hypertension was improved, our children’s creativity was exploding, and I was enjoying the easy sleep of my teen years.
These are changes that pay a compound return. Feeling better individually led to us feeling better collectively. Games and laughter and shared adventure replaced the old daily download of slights and grievances. Time together quickly morphed from duty, to preference.
We never had the six month talk. No one wanted to go back.
Society tells us that children and free time are like gasoline and matches. Accordingly, one big concern was how to keep our kids hands from becoming idle. It turns out that society is wrong. Freed from forced structure, our kids self-organized their days around building tree forts, hammock castles, driftwood tepees, the worlds most dangerous zip lines, and palm frond gear of every kind. Also, fishing, biking, hiking, river drifting, exploring, surfing, diving, caving… Nature provides endless entertainment.
If you’re wondering about school, you’d be amazed at how quickly a person can learn to read and perform basic math, when they’re in an environment that’s conducive to learning. You’d also be interested to see how passionate people can be about learning, when they are free to pursue their curiosity.
It’s true that our kids don’t know calculus. And I doubt they remember what year Columbus sailed the ocean blue. But they can speak two languages, and function in a third. They can also handle currency exchanges, market negotiations, and they’re fluent in the customs of twenty countries.
We often meet families whose experience with responsible adult life is also killing them. They want out. Their first question is always about money. We think money is what’s holding us back. It’s not. The need for security is what holds us back. We’ve been trained to look before we leap. To be sure that it’s going to work out, before we do it.
It’s not possible. Furthermore, in a game where everyone is destined to die, the only thing one can be sure of… is that thing no one wants to be sure of.
The first step is an act of courage. Jumping always precedes learning to fly.
As for money, you’d be surprised at how little it takes to live comfortably, when you define that for yourself. And somehow, what little we need, is always there.
We’ve built barns, harvested lumber, farmed, crewed and repaired sailboats, installed solar panels in remote villages, and worked hostels, hotels, and campgrounds. None of these things were previously on any of our resumes.
But, more important than what we do, is how we do it. Together. Our daily lives, that only a few years ago pushed us apart, now bring us closer together. And this has forged us into a small tribe whose combined strength is far greater than the sum of our individual contributions. It’s a marvelous thing to be a part of.
And although we have less stuff than we have ever had before… our lives now contain all that they were lacking. I know that it’s hard for a society that’s sold on the idea that more is more to imagine… but… we gained it all by giving everything away.