It's Official

A Favorite Spot on the Rogue River

Cheryl's News

Rich and I received the official nod of approval today. We will be volunteer campground hosts at Natural Bridge Campground during the summer of 2015! 

Moving Out, Moving On

RICH'S NEWS FROM CAMP WEBEBACK: The process of preparing for our next camp-hosting adventure continues.

 
So, now I am in the final stages of getting ready to sell my house. Which involves letting go of 36 years of living here. (Well, it's actually more like 30 years of occupying the space, what with extended stays away.)

 
Leaving brings up a mixed feeling. Primarily it is one of relief at the excising of all of the costs and responsibilities. I have thought of my home as my retirement system, and earlier this year I realized that is just what I am doing – retiring. Except for some short one-day classes now and then, I will be finished with my classes at OSM. That is another 30-year connection I am letting go of.

 
Looking back, home ownership has been a wonderful, stable element in my life that has provided me with many opportunities that I would otherwise have found hard to do. This home has been good to me, and it has been a haven for many ex-residents. But now the house is becoming more and more expensive as it ages. (Actually, it has always required work, just a lot moreso now.)

 
The downside of letting go of the house is the loss of stability from knowing that even if everything falls apart, I have a home. Even if it was only an illusion of stability, it was still a comforting illusion. But now that comforting stability of owning a house will for the time being be replaced by a trailer. Still a home, just more mobile is all.

 
So far, what has eased my mind is that I will be able to establish a home base with Nisa, Julianna and Frazier. A place for the trailer to come to. A traveling mother-in-law (father-in law) (grandpa-in law) cottage.

 
The process of selling the house is, at the moment, quite stressful – figuring out all the things to move or sell or trash or give away. An accumulation of such wondrous things as hundreds of screws, nails, and odds and ends of wires and other stuff I have saved (horded?) over the years. As well as tons of wires, cables, electronic gadgets transformers connecting to ...??? Since you never know when you might need an extra float for the toilet. Right?

Problem is, I forget I have it or can't find it when I need it.

 
The biggest realization I have had is that the attachment to much of the stuff is memories. Every time I look at a certain plate or afghan, I think of my mother or Aunt Norma or ….. But, that memory fades as I let go of those things the memory triggers. Pictures can alleviate that a bit, but I am a kinestetic (hmm, that word is not in my spell check!) person. I need that touch.

Interesting bit of information from my realtor: When getting rid of things, have someone else pick them up, because when we touch it, it increases our likelihood we will not let it go. I understand that feeling.

In the end, it will be sad to let the house go, but a relief and a joy that someone else will create a space here that will sustain them, just as it has me. Though one fear I have is that a developer decides to demolish it. I would hate to see my home replaced by one of the many characterless modern houses being built in this neighborhood. Such things do happen around here a lot. Usually on double lots, but there are no guarantees for my single lot.

 
Still, letting go. I must let go of my attachment to the house and what happens to it. There is the Buddhist realization that the source of human suffering is attachment. I must let go.

When I went to Haiti I knew that part of the reason for my going was to get out of the trance that was my current life. Going there certainly did just that. And this move feels very similar to me. I will be moving into a new way of life, once again leaving the trance of this one.

And then there is age. As I near 70 it becomes abundantly clear I do not have the luxury of time. Like my brother said when my dad – who was 78 at the time – asked him about getting remarried. My brother told me his first thought was: "Don't rush into it." And then he thought, "Hell, he is 78. Why not rush into it?"

 
Yes, so why not rush into it?

Last summer being a camp host took me out of the sedentary life that I had fallen into here in this house. The experience was so good for me in physical, emotional and spiritual ways. From that experience, I can sense that it is time to move on. Perhaps it is not the style of retired life that we all have in our minds when we are younger. But that traditional vision always seemed too not me anyway.

I may not have had the vision of retiring into the life a of a camp host, but looking out upon the path now, as I prepare to embark upon it, it is but another a step along the path of service that has always been imprinted in my bones. 

I look forward to closing this chapter of my life and embracing the next. The road beckons in May.