I Once Was a Nomad
That’s Freedom, My Friend
I was a nomad for a few years.
It was like being fifteen again with money in my pocket.
It took me a few tries, however, before I really understood how to travel light. Until then, being a nomad was hard work, more like a job, and required a lot of attention from me.
Once I dumped “the stuff” at the side of the road, I quickly realized that a lot of my troubles in life had been self-imposed.
I’ve since come to believe that if there’s a hard way or an easy way to do something, humans tend to pick the hard way. Yep! And then, of course, complain about it.
Do we like drama?
Maybe. My experiences while living the life of a nomad demonstrated the beauty of simplicity, however.
I lived everywhere but nowhere for four years, enjoying Spain, Ireland, Portugal, Mexico, the isle of Saba, England, Scotland and more for months at a time. During that period of my life, whether I was stateside or passing extended time abroad, I traveled with nothing more than a carryon suitcase and eventually only a backpack.
Why? Because I wanted to feel as free as possible.
This experience taught me a lot about myself and human problems. First, I learned that much of what I thought I needed was an extra not an essential. When you must justify everything that goes into your backpack, it clarifies the difference between the two.
Do I take this item with me or not?
How often do I use it? Is there something else that would serve the purpose? Can I buy it wherever I go if indeed I suddenly find that I need it? Do I want this item so badly that I literally will choose to haul it around with me, weigh down my backpack, or give up something else in its place?
I also found out that choosing to travel light is a perfect allegory for how to get through life with fewer self-inflicted problems.
Humans tend to complicate their own lives. Sometimes it’s because of cultural indoctrination and sometimes it’s a learned habit. There may even be a psychological component.
I’ve never been a fan of flying but when you’re going long distances that’s often the only way and certainly the quickest way. When I arrive at my destination, I’m generally pretty damn tired. My disembarking procedures are far less time consuming and burdensome than what I see others going through, however.
I have no luggage to claim from baggage.
I’m not forced to carry around heavy suitcases. If I need a taxi, no need to open the trunk to install my gear. Nope! I just pull my backpack out from under the seat in front of me, strap it on my back, waltz through customs showing my passport, and then out the door to hail a taxi.
I marvel at those passengers who actually have to push a mountain of luggage around on one of those metal transports.
What makes us choose to be so overburdened? I’m grateful that I’m not a hoarder, burying myself in a pile of junk and unable to move freely in my own home. But frankly, modern life has normalized a measure of hoarding. It’s not uncommon to find people who can’t park their cars in their garages because there’s no room left.
We do these things to ourselves with little to no self-awareness and then complain.
Whether it’s choosing to give birth to more children than we can support, acquiring one too many pets, collecting a mind-numbing amount of personal belongings, spending too much money, eating too much, or getting married too many times. We say we want a simpler life, but we do everything and anything that we can to make that impossible.
Then we bitch, moan, whine, wail, complain and cry about our hard lives.
Sometimes, we even leave behind a mess for others to clean up. Not their choice but, hey, we suffered, and they should, too. Have you ever seen the junk at an estate sale? I’m not talking the valuables of the rich and famous. Nope! I’m talking pure unadulterated, smelly, cheap junk verging on being nothing more than items for the local dump.
I have to wonder why?
In a material world, it’s hard not to fall prey to consumerism, the drive to find the perfect partner (who doesn’t even exist), and an overwhelming cultural expectation that the more we own the happier we should be. We’re told to think BIG and if we don’t think BIG, we’re considered to be failures by our parents, partners, friends, and relatives
But simple is beautiful.
This I’ve come to recognize. And even though I sometimes forget that simple is beautiful, whenever I remember, my life gets easier. How much easier? Well, the four years that I was a nomad was full of adventure and mental stimulation, freedom, and ease. Something that I hadn’t experienced since I was fifteen.
Maybe it all boils down to how we define freedom. I loved feeling like I was fifteen again but with money in my pocket.
Teresa is an author, world traveler, and professional myth buster. You can find her books on Amazon.
