I’ve watched countless YouTube channels about life in a van, and read numerous articles. At some point, I will need to pull up roots and get on the road. It is a daunting task for me. I will be downsizing in quite an extreme way. I currently live in a warehouse that is approximately 4,500 square feet. I think I’ll be moving into less than 100 square feet. (Although, I’ve come to realize quite quickly that square feet is not a good measure when moving into a motor home. It is much more accurate to consider CUBIC feet as I won’t just be using floor space, but every available inch!)
I’m in the process of letting go of everything that isn’t a necessity to living in a van, and cleaning up, clearing out and giving away all the stuff I’ve collected over the past 65 years. I started with Marie Kondo’s book, and have been going through my clothes to see which t-shirts and shorts “bring me joy.” I was amazed how many things I own that don’t bring me joy. Some of them probably never did. Some of them did at one time, but don’t any more. That was a good first step, but it is not even close to being adequate when downsizing to about 800 cubic feet. I worked on clearing out file cabinets yesterday. I came across vet records of all the greyhounds I’d adopted over the years, and I sat, and read through them, and grieved once more over losing them. I had an urge to hang onto them, but had to realize that keeping adoption records, and vet records will not bring them back. They live forever in my heart, and I need to let go of rabies tags and old collars. I sorted through t-shirts that were once my favorites and remembered buying this one the first time I went to Key West, and reminisced over that one that reminded me of such happy times in San Francisco. They brought me joy, but they either no longer fit me, or they had stains, or the collars were threadbare. Time to let go. I have a huge warehouse full of such things, so this process is going to take more than a day or two. I started to fold a week’s worth of laundry today, and before putting clothing away, I had to convince myself that I’m only going to be able to take a couple pairs of jeans, a few pairs of long pants, several pairs of short pants, and maybe (at most) a dozen t-shirts. As I picked up each piece of clothing, I thought “Is this really my absolute favorite?” If not, into the bag it went for Goodwill.
I have an auctioneer coming tomorrow to give me some pointers in gathering stuff up and preparing it for auction. I’ve filled two garage-sized rooms with items that I can’t possibly fit in the van. I have power tools, paintings, framed prints, kitchen gadgets, plumbing supplies, shelves, and on and on. I thought it would be hard to say good-bye to them. It wasn’t. I just want them gone. They are what is preventing me from selling this building and moving onto my new life.
In addition to clearing out things that are not absolutely necessary to my comfort on the road, I’ve started “practicing” living small. As I was mixing Cosmo’s breakfast yesterday morning, I turned on the water and ran my finger under it to see if it was hot (to put over his dry dog food). It occurred to me that while I was waiting for hot water, I probably let a gallon of water go down the drain. That will not do in my new life. I plan to be off-grid most of the time. I will have a fresh water capacity of about 29 gallons (or less). I can’t afford to pour a gallon of it down the drain. Likewise, I took a bath this morning, as I often do. I turn the lights down, climb into the steamy water and read a bit and then meditate. When I got out I looked at that tub full of water, still quite warm. I thought of how much battery power it would take to heat that much water in an RV, then laughed realizing that it was a moot point because I’d have no bathtub. A bath will no longer be a daily occurrence, but rather a rare treat when visiting friends who have a soaking tub and are generous enough to allow me to use it.
I’ve just started to become aware of my footprint on this planet. Most of my family and friends would probably tell you I live quite frugally, without many luxuries, but I’m redefining the word “luxury.” Soon “luxury” will be anything that is not a necessity to staying alive. I look at how many dishes I have, most hand thrown by me or friends. I’ll keep several. I look at my pots and pans, and kitchen utensils. Most will be given away. (My kitchen is big enough to hold TWO ENTIRE CLASS B Motor Homes!) Downsizing my t-shirts was just a tad daunting. Downsizing my head and my way of thinking is definitely going to take some doing. I think I’m up for the task.