Jugglezine - Working Hard to Travel Well

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Working Hard to Travel Well
It's no picnic, but life on the road offers an unimaginable feast for the spirit
TEXT BY KATE CONVISSOR ILLUSTRATION BY GREG MORGAN NOVEMBER 2, 2001



Complete this sentence: If I could change anything, I would change. . . (Choose one)
	Jobs (but stay in the same profession)
	Careers
	Where I live
	My marital status
	My lifestyle
	Something about my personality
	Something about my looks
	Nothing! My life is perfect!




Agree? Disagree? Stop sounding off to your computer screen! Instead, share your point of view on this subject with our readers.

On September 19, 2000, I left home. Or rather, home left with me. That's when, after nearly a year of preparation, my husband, two youngest children, dog, and I pulled onto the road in a 30-foot trailer that is now our only home. My husband and I had already closed down our businesses and sold most of our possessions.

We left home because we have become middle-aged, and old enough now to know that time passes quickly. We no longer want to let it pass unexamined. We also left because we wanted to rid ourselves of clutter--of overstuffed closets and over committed lives and of routines that had lost their meaning. We wanted to step outside the blur of passing days in order to choose more deliberately, as my husband said, "what to do with the time we have left."

We left because our youngest children were nearing adolescence. We have already raised older children and are familiar with the peculiar midwifery of birthing baby adults. This time, we wanted to do it differently. These children, we thought, should see that the world is far wider than Nintendo, the Gap, and "hanging out." In fact, we all wanted to see the world, and it sounded like fun to do it together.

So, we've traveled slowly, and that was also our plan. Our ramblings have taken us from Mexico to Canada, from Indiana to California. We've camped in remote places of staggering beauty as well as in rank and dismal places (the Oklahoma City fairgrounds after a major horse show and a week of rain, for example).

Yet, the trip is hardly an extended vacation or a dreamy stroll along the beach. We have worked hard to get here, and the journey continues to demand judgment and our best effort. It is still work, just a far different kind of work.

This is not the work of meetings and deadlines and billable hours. It is not work that adds value in the business sense or contributes to the global economy. I don't worry about eyestrain or repetitive stress injuries or whether my nylons are intact. The work of travel is close to the breath and body heat of life. It is work that feels the bumps in the road and the change of direction in the wind. It is work that demands risk and rewards it well--most of the time. "Few of us," writes Pico Iyer, "ever forget the connection between 'travel' and 'travail.'"

The work is often mundane--the filling of bellies both mechanical and animate, the washing of bodies and clothes, the paying of bills. But now the bank and the grocery store and even the washing machine and the shower change location every few days. Now simple tasks involve disproportionate effort. Finding a telephone might require a two-mile bike ride or a forty-mile drive.

But the work of travel is also more ambiguous and demanding than weary hours, wrong turns, or cold showers. And it is this work that determines the richness of my experience. Done well, this work helps me to overlook the discomfort and difficulties of travel so I will remember how the desert smells in the spring and the way sunset plays over the mountains.

Partly, the work of travel is to have faith--to allow the journey to unfold and to enjoy its synchronicities and surprises. It is to trust that I will negotiate this mountain pass with our four-ton rig as safely as if I were going to the grocery store in my little Toyota. At these times I am keenly aware that we travel very close to fate and grace because the road is long and changeable, and we are small and frail. We never know what will be around the next curve (A logging truck? A herd of goats? A baby elk? We have encountered all of these), or whether the next town will have a bank, a bakery--or a hospital if we need one.

The work of travel is also to be receptive--to keep my mind and heart wide open and try to understand what I see around me. That means I have to lay aside my expectations and prejudices because little happens that I expect or plan. Nothing is familiar on the road, not the people or their accents, not the color of the dirt or the shape of oak leaves or the tilt of the Big Dipper in the sky at night. Such continual change is exhausting just as often as it is exhilarating.

So, the journey has demanded a different kind of work--map reading instead of the proper use of commas; faith instead of street smarts. But it has also returned lavish and unexpected rewards. Three of these are so ordinary that I could easily have cultivated them in everyday life. Yet, they are so fragile that I often crushed them beneath everyday life's obligations and distractions. They are:

Delight. I never knew the world was so beautiful and varied, so eerie and majestic. I didn't know that water could be so many colors or that the night sky could hold so many stars. Adam and Eve may have fallen, but Eden still surrounds us.

Delight belongs to the special realm of children and the dying, and they are delighted by things I stopped seeing long ago. I have peeped through the door of that kingdom, and it is where I want to live.

Simplicity. Clutter weighs down the spirit. Our journey has compelled us to sweep clean both our cupboards and our psyches. Our axles are lighter for it, and so are our souls. We--all four of us plus the dog--have adapted to 240 square feet of living space. We rarely have electricity and the computer, microwave, television, games and gadgets that go with it. I no longer check my investments (a healthy strategy these days, I gather) or surf the Internet. Cleaning and maintenance is streamlined. Cooking is simpler. It is easier to conserve resources like water and fuel and to mend things rather than throw them out. We spend far less money, and we have a lot more.

Time. I have waited years to have enough time. Enough to linger over coffee in the morning and to watch the eagle in the dead tree across the river until it flies away. Enough time to walk and pray, to think and read and to sit beside the campfire while it burns to embers.

I will, of course, return to deadlines and billable hours and to a house with a telephone and a microwave, and (please, God) hot showers. But it will be a smaller house and a simpler life and perhaps fewer obligations.

I'm not sure how to manage the inevitable pull toward busy-ness, but I have identified a few things I want to keep. I want my work to be meaningful, my time to be spacious, and I do not want to miss the smell of hay fields in the sun.

Kate Convissor expects to continue her life on the road until the spring of 2002.

Reactions to "Working Hard to Travel Well"

Rather exquisite, an article.

"Adam and Exe have fallen, but Eden still surround us"

Have you room, for one more individual? : )

Franz
Student

Hello Kate. It was great getting to know you and your family in Brownsville, Texas. Your story above is so true and I find myself understanding a lot of what you have talked about. Every year I want to do more to recover a more meaningful way of life and enjoyment of what time I have left of this earth.

Take care and I look forward to hearing from you when you are settled in somewhere.

Ken Mendes
Carpenter on the Beach, Just me.

Sounds like a great story, on the surface. But it reminds me of a guy I used to know. I was a single mother struggling to raise 2 kids on about $15,000 a year. I met a businessman who owned a local company with an annual income of millions. Yet he lived very "simply" in an Airstream motor home, didn't report to an office, and bragged that he was "living the good life" yet spending less than $8,000 a year. He never could understand why I wasn't able to make ends meet on $15,000. The answer? The "simplicity" of his lifestyle didn't include buying anything. He already owned everything he needed.

Debbie

I logged on to this site to buy a Eames Aluminum Management Chair and strangely found myself reading this story because I did something similar. However, I was 18 at the time. I purchased a 1982 banana yellow cadillac with like interior with two high school buddies, rebulit the transmission and off we went on a two year soiree of this country. We did what came natural to three bullet proof knuckleheads... drinkin', fightin', and some other stuff. It enriched my life in ways that I now am only starting to understand ( and no worrse for the wear ! ) I am a corporate guy now with responsbility so I applaud Kate and I say do whatever you want because in the end you only have to answer to yourself and God.

jay Roy

~OH DEAR~
astonishing. the wonderful interplay between the initial vile, sky-eyed vacuity and the limping, cliched, sycophantic gushings it has prompted in reply. but the writers cannot be held responsible of course. in order to come out with this kind of tepid drizzle it takes a certain intensity of cultural starvation, obviously separated from anything even vaguely resembling the natural world. the culture these writers inhabit is relied on and perpetuated by themselves, and one to which they are addicted, yet they cling impotently to some impossible ideal of the simplistic, beautiful life they can never know. heartbreaking, unforgivable, unthinkable.

harry
disturbed, concerned

Thanks for the glimpse into the other side of "what is" . The "what could be" too often is left to "the adventurous" or "the wealthy" - really anybody other than us! It's too impossible! We couldn't do that! We couldn't afford to do that!
Any change starts with a change of heart, and that can happen sitting home in your living room. Good luck to you Kate!

Jean Reed Bahle
Teacher, actor

So, . . . .you left home and took your home with you! There is the key. Home is where you are. Wherever you are you must work on whatever you are doing. You need to become aware how each action affects everyone and everything. You must decide what is good and what is evil. Being 'away' from your life you can romanticize the good parts. Visiting the outskirts of others lives you can romanticize their good parts. In the end your 'tirp' is a luxury retreat since you will be 'going' back to your life. We can all do the same contemplation and simplifying without 'leaving' our 'life'.

Anita McHugh
Senior Project Manager, American Office

I loved it, just makes me want to get to that point a lot sooner!

Paula Kennedy

Very true and i admire your guts to do it.

Jessica Nakawombe

To "B" from Kate Convissor (me): Rich? Good Lord, no! I am a freelance writer and my husband is a carpenter. We buy our own health insurance (such as it is). We have no retirement plan. But one important thing thing I've learned from this adventure is that life holds far fewer limitations than I used to believe. Are you destined to plod along forever? Oh, I hope not. There are too many wonders to experience, and money has nothing to do with it.

Kate Convissor
writer, none

You are a tremendous writer! Thank you for sharing a part of your life. I'm having lunch at my corporate desk dreaming now. I'm a single mom and I'm now inspired to plan a road trip with my two children very soon. May God bless you and provide you with favor, blessings and safe travels.

Tanya Pass
Sales & Marketing Executive, DiscoverTec, Inc.

I have just revisited this website after several months and am unfamiliar with the entirety of Ms. Convissor's story, with the exception of what I have read here.

I have a certain amount of admiration for someone who can dump one life in favor of creating a new existence. My reservations to Ms. Convissor's decision relates to her children. As the father of one child who hopes to soon be a father of another, I know that my decisions regarding my life drastically changed when my son was born. My wife and I are no longer able to pick up and travel without first considering the consequences of a baby sitter, let alone the education of two adolescents.

Ms. Convissor may think that she is expanding her young children's horizons by towing them around the country. But how do they feel? They have no permanent friends to play with and no formal education to develop such friends, participate in sports or expand their studies. They will have no high school diploma. Following the trend of home-schooling, they might have the education they need to pass a GED exam and possibly an SAT. That remains to be seen.

Wouldn't it have been a more prudent decision for Ms. Convissor and her husband to wait until these children were in college, then begin their new age of self-discovery? Was it so important that this journey start now, rather than a few years?

Joe Schwartz
Designer

Thank you, Kate! I found you through your "life leaves you a scar" story in Salon, and followed the links of your articles backward till I found this site. And it's perfect for me at this moment, as I am reading a book called "Synchronicity" (by Deike Begg) and have determined to put the power of conscious intention into changing the direction of my life. I am not one for the open road (got that out of my system in my 20s) but a real change is required nonetheless -- a change that requires facing the fear of a different, simpler, less cluttered lifestyle. I'm preparing for a major shift, and after reading this, I'm inspired to perform a symbolic act: I'm going straight to my dusty, clutter cupboard to get rid of all those shoes I never wear!

Sharon
writer

Thanks for sharing your journey, Kate. This essay feels like a call to action for me, and I think for others, too, going by the responses you've received. Not that I'm going to pack everything into a trailer and head west, mind you, but I do feel a strong desire to be mindful of where I'm at and where I'm going. Thanks for your clarity.

Laura Bennett-Kimble
Freelance writer

How fortunate to be in a position enabling this kind of luxury. To have a business and possessions to sell. To be able to treat the countryside as a playground, like children camping out in the back garden as a controlled adventure. How much less inspiring, romantic and dreamy is the smell of hay fields in the sun when that smell translates first and foremost into long hours of backbreaking work for little or no reward, striving to make a farm a financial viability, while spoilt city dwellers drive by in the 30 foot luxury trailer that is now (sob, sniff) their "only home". My heart breaks for the brain- stifling saccharin-sweet apple-pie middle-class sentimentality of it all. "I no longer check my investments.." "we spend far less money now... and have a lot more" !!!! did the writer actually read this, once written??? Good Grief.

David

Wonderful adventure. Makes me want to pack up the motor home and head out. The memories you are making for your family will live for many years to come. Good Luck to you & yours.

Fran

I have thoroughly enjoyed every one of Kate's articles. My husband and I hope to go on the open road sometime soon (in the next couple of years), and I feel that Kate is teaching me to be open to all kinds of possibilities that I never dreamed of. She also is preparing me for the "life of leisure" that is NOT the "life of leisure" in the traditional sense. I have appreciated her comments about how life on the road has affected her kids, and the changes that have happened to the internal workings of the adults.

Martha Gladieux
homemaker, salesperson, Viking Sewing Center

In some ways, I have made a similar choice as this a couple of years ago and again everytime I look for a new job to stimulate me. I have chosen to remain in the small town I grew up in, not only because my parents are here and I am fast approaching my childbearing years (some of them have past me by already) but also because of the beautiful mountains, woods and ocean beaches that are all around me. The job market in my town is terrible. Highly educated people battle for restaurant & retail jobs with the college students. So we who live here sacrifice a decent income and benefits for peace of mind and the outdoors. I am able to walk my dogs every morning and enjoy some of the beautiful things that Kate is just now taking the time to relax and observe. Every day almost, another graphics professional contacts us and tells us that they "just moved to the area" for the very reasons I won't leave and only 1% of them probably ever find a job in this town. If you really want to quit your high paying city job for a small town, my advice is to investigate the town/area first and realize that you may be forced to choose between struggling happily or having plenty but not enjoying it.

Angela Urso
designer,, Bellingham, WA

It's an important message -- for us to examine our lives and decide, rather than accept by default, how we want to spend them. We need reminding. Thanks, Kate.

Margery Guest
Writer, The Wordsmiths

Kate Convissor's compelling account of going on the road sans clutter inspires just about equal parts of jealously and admiration. The "working hard" part recalled the attitude of most folks about being rich solving all their problems -- the same folks who, hearing what the Convissors had done would tend to say, "Those lucky dogs -- no worries, no reponsibilities." Even this brief account should make it clear to all that facing and solving, or accepting, life's problems is not a function of our circumstances, but of who we are...what we're made of, and what our values are.

BUT PLEASE, DO NOT TRY THIS WITH YOUR FAMILY. Just think what would happen to the economy if we all stopped buying everything but essentials.

Don Wheeler
Person, None for now.

I am a country girl at heart. I lived in the north Georgia mountains for 18 years. Cities and people are busy, hectic and self-absorbed. Give me the freedom to travel our spacious, open mountains any day. Open air and travel give one the freedom to be intraspective and can forever change ones outlook and values. Enjoy the peace of those precious moments.

Caren Robey
Commercial Project Coor, Cort Furniture Rental

This story sound very similar to all my brothers who used to follow the Greatful Dead. People used to call us hippy weirdos when all we were doing is basically what you and your family are doing. Seeing the country,camping, and doing what we enjoy in a simple manner. It wasnt ever easy,but it was an experience never forgotten. Personally I sold out for the corporate job, but for me it was time for a little security and stability.

John Freedman
product and graphic designer, Tommy Hilfiger Retail Inc.

Sounds like what I dream of trying. I am inspired that someone took it on and is accomplishing what is easy to think impossible these days....

donna ehasz
supervisor, fp&d, t.rowe price

I have felt that way in the past, but now must pay the price. This is all very true and I think of this often. It is difficult to keep your mind and spirit free, and it gets harder with every passing day.

LINDA CATALANO

Thank you for a wonderful summary of the joys of life on the road. I am eighteen, and I have taken two cross-country trips so far. I look forward to many more. You could not have said better why I love long drives to unknown places. May you keep traveling, and have a pleasant journey.

Ross Williams
Student, New York University

Yeah, that's neat. It's nice to hear about wealthy folks who can do whatever they want. My wife and I don't plan to ever be able to retire let alone take off at middle age. Why is it always only the well off who are able to "simplify their lives? Is there any real advice for those of us who don't have spectacular incomes or retirement plans? Our lives are already simplified, we don't have any clutter to shed because we can't afford any. Are we destined to plod along forever?

B

Thank you for the reminder. We are so prone to creating "needs" and things we can't live without instead of living. Hot showers are a need, however!

Nancy Maguire

A message to Kate Convissor: You have done what many of us only dream of. Pack-up and go!
Reading about it made me happy and wishing fot it even harder, but also realising to stop wishing for it.

Rik
The Netherlands

Rik

Wow! Beautiful! How inspirational those few words are to those of us who feel it impossible to escape from things we label "everyday necessities". Instead of us owning them, they end up owning us.

Thats settles it! I'm planning a road trip!

Johonna Walker
Design Student







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