I'm No Thoreau
but I choose to live deliberately
From Memorial Day to mid-November here in southern Rhode Island, I manage a robust hosting season on Airbnb. I am one of those old-fashioned hosts who still believe in the platform's original mission to share our rooms, homes, communities, and economies with like-minded travelers from all over the world. In order to be on hand to welcome, recommend, and be of service to my guests, I move myself and my beloved Carla from our four-room cottage into my 20' x 20' unfinished garage and studio (think shabby chic) across the lawn. My garage boasts no kitchen, no running water; I do, however, have an air fryer, microwave, mini refrigerator, outside shower, and a gym membership.
My life in the garage is simple, uncomplicated, and uniquely me. I choose to remain out there long after my last summer guest has returned home. Why, you ask? The answer hit me while I made the six-step journey from the corner where my iMac is located, over to the twin bed where I sleep like a baby. Henry David Thoreau came to mind, along with his 10' x 15' one-room cabin on Walden Pond in Concord, Massachusetts and the two years he lived there with only a desk, three chairs, a fireplace and a bed. I'm no Thoreau, but I share his desire to live deliberately, with nothing but the essentials on hand. I've come to understand that my fascination, my love affair with this simple life is rooted in the quiet inspiration and divine mind that I partner with. With no encumbrances, no distractions, I am free to create to my heart's content.
In the fall of 1996, I was a Fellow in Residence at The Virginia Center for the Creative Arts in Sweet Briar, Virginia. I was granted a one-room studio with a desk, a chair and a bed. I spent two glorious weeks finishing my short story collection: Underbelly. Twenty years later, in the fall of 2016, after a two-month whirlwind cross-country book tour to promote Linger Longer: Lessons from a Contemplative Life, I spent a month in a three-room cabin on a horse farm in rural Elgin, Arizona, a few miles from the Mexican border. It's there I discovered that less is more: less baggage, less stress, less attachment, more freedom, more connection, more memories. When I returned to Rhode Island that year, I sold my 2000-square-foot designer condo in downtown East Greenwich and embarked on a minimalistic lifestyle, the same one I enjoy today.
As November’s confetti-colored leaves blow down here in the northeastern United States, I must leave my one-room sanctuary and move back into my cottage, and while geographically not much will change, spiritually my center will shift as I lay down new tracks for self-discovery and creative expression.
Tell me where, when, and how you connect with divine mind?
For more information on Thoreau, the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, and/or Sweet Caroline's Vintage Cottage, check out:
I feel like you breathe so easily. I am so caught up and becoming more so caught up at a time of my life when I should be less and less encumbered. I read your posts and long for the ease of which you live your life and then I go back to mine - where I now, at age 70, work full-time ands can hardly pay my bills or buy food. And all I care about is looking the part as I write less and less and my soul is siphoned. Thank you for this post -it filled my tank in a way that nothing in my day does.
Beautiful ... living deliberately simple is a gift to self and to our own creativity. Loved having this reminder as we head into a season almost deliberately anti-simple.