The birdsong here starts at about 5.30am and continues until dusk, only pausing when the kite makes his twice-daily surveillance swing by. I’ve heard a bird singing at 11pm and have no idea what beautiful creation is spinning such liquid gold out into the night sky. The days flow past with the rainfall and I’m happy to just immerse in this riverbank’s none-silence as I patch blankets, or make vegan food. Occasionally, the ego screams about a lack of productivity and with that comes the anxiety, but perhaps its our constant need to devour and produce that’s gotten us into this mess. For all the times I hear people wanting to have conversations about imagining a better future, I’m not sure ‘everybody doing and wanting less’ is high on the agenda. It’s too simple. It removes the potential for people’s egos to shine. Who wants that?
We moved into this van to live a simpler life. Simple doesn’t have to mean miserable, but it does mean completely reconfiguring the landscape of what we think we need. What comes with having less is the realisation that the world will change herself when she’s ready, the only thing any of us can really do is focus on the inner work, on the shadow work, so that we can become aware of the construct, of the stories we tell ourselves that give us a false sense of importance when we are just one motif in the poem of this world.
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