The Wild Beckons

I’ve been waking up at between 1am sometimes 3am to be greeted by the silhouette of a little skinny fox eating the nuts left out for the birds. On other nights we’d see a portly badger moving around our front garden, sometimes knocking over the bird table to get at the seed.

Tonight as I said good night to my little girl, I went into the kitchen and chopped up some apple and carrots, placed it on a little plate and left it on the front lawn. Carefully positioned to catch the street lights.

As I walk back into the house, a fleeting thought what it must be like to live like this, to be free?

I later fire up the Kindle and continue with my sample chapter.

Over the passed week my wife and I realise that we have both had the same aspiration. What would it be like to sell the house and travel the world, in a van.

How to cope with the children? Lack of space and downsizing? Leaving everything behind? How would we survive? There are countless doubts and logistical problems to overcome but I am comforted by a thought that continually reverberates through my mind these days “You have everything you need. You’ve ALWAYS had everything you need”.

I’ve just finished the sample chapter,  How To Live In a Van and Travel by Mike Hudson.  The prospect brings a surge of excitement. Let’s see what tomorrow brings.

I will keep you posted.

Photo by Juan from Pexels

fearful man hiding his face on the phone

The Inauthentic Life

It was payday and he had to get to a machine before it was all gone.

This late evening, he returned home in desperate need for food, sanctuary and comfort. Struck with immediate fear and dread, he spotted the pile of letters on his front door mat. The vision of the radiant magnolia had been replaced by city traffic.

Slapping down his keys, he raced back and grabbed them off the floor. The man opened each letter carefully, with a tinge of foolish hope for good news. But why would there be?

The bank statement was lurking in the pile. He would get to it eventually. Scanning through the transactions, he immediately broke a sweat at the sight.

He was picturing them now, all sat in an office laughing, congratulating and toasting the amounts being creamed off people’s accounts. He recalled a conversation to live within his means, he recalled the lines of glass bottles chinking down at the checkout conveyor and how everyone stopped at that precise moment to judge.

The little red warning signals sent by the universe had been routinely ignored.

After the first page, the entire statement was a list of unpaid accounts and a sizeable fine for the privilege. “This is not happening”, he thought. It was payday, and now there was nothing left.

It felt like the beginning of the end and he had become blind to any notion of escape. He would forever be in debt. An unpaid parking penalty had escalated into a monstrous fine, the loan repayments, the credit cards had completely taken over his conscious mind. But at least he still had a job, and soon no means purchasing fuel.

The reality gripped like a constricting snake. He had to fight back. He needed to sink his teeth deep into its flesh for it to loosen its grip. Where was the courage? He went on in a daze for a while, continuing to buy food, drink and smoke until he handed over his last coin.

There was a moment of clarity. The wisdom from his brother rang clear and true. It was time to tear down the facade and face the things he feared the most.

The First Signs of Hope

He twirled around his laptop, then flipped it open. Taking a seat at his accustomed position, the fading golden shimmer reflected off of the white table top. He noticed the colour for a few seconds, and found a fleeting moment of comfort before coming back to his screen.

The clean desktop was waiting, the evening was waiting. He took a few large gulps from the wide, heavy tumbler and slammed it down onto the table. The smell burned his nostrils and his insides, his mind melted away and the shivers in his back returned.

He tuned into the the million voices around the world, all converging in this one place. The site was lit up with the lonely, the desperate and the proud.

Conversation after conversation, fail, after fail. Send message, fail. Send message. No response. Re-compose, send message. Hit. One traveller on the other side stopped for minute to listen to the desperate, waiting to be rescued, but decided to ignore the curiosity and block out the cries.

The music became louder, and the drink became stronger, each one imbued with more pain and suffering than the last. At the dying light, he lamented at the thought of the life lost. What had he become, where was this night going? When did this end?

He slammed down the lid down in anger. A fresh bottle, replaced the last and the cigarette ash spread itself across the table. His eyes were heavy, but the pain was numbed and returning in greater measure.

Drink more and it will dissipate forever. There is a cure. This is the cure. This was not him. He was better than this. He could be better, in a different world, in a different life. If only they gave him a chance. One by one the channels of communications, the blinking lights stopped and the noise of the crowd died down. It was quiet again.

He hardly had time to draw the curtains, and the early morning light began to break into and across room. He looked back to the sitting area part of the room, it had been left undisturbed all night. His head was heavy, and his sofa beckoned.

The light hit the top of the tree outside the sash window. It was catching fire. The fire moved down to illuminate it’s sublime form. Holding up his head, he peered through his bleary eyes at it’s resplendence. The deepest green against white and golden blossom. He felt like something in him had changed. The fear, anger and darkness had gone.

He started up the computer again.

The splendour, the majesty and the love he felt emanating from this natural wonder would always be there whenever he glanced out his window.

Years later he would reflect. There were signs and messages of light throughout his life but that night “It felt like, it felt like…”, his wife finished his sentence for him. ‘Hope’.