I’ve always been sort of fascinated by this idea of a super simple, monastic lifestyle, probably because I take pleasure in the feeling that I am living truthfully and wholesomely. I crave simplicity because I feel like all of the unnecessary bits that come between living off the grid and living in a house with a “home entertainment system” are artificial and contrived. The realization that I am living comfortably, well insulated from the outside world, actually makes me anxious because I fear that I have lost some innate human or animal capability to fend for myself in a more natural setting.
Maybe this is why I like to do yard work without gloves, why I value getting scratched and dusty, why I sometimes crave dirt, or why when I go to the ocean I feel an inexplicable need for the water and the rocks and the currents to overtake me until I am one of them. I feel the need to feel more, to shield myself from nothing, to let the wildness I have been resisting take me over. I crave roughness among rounded edges; I crave freedom of spirit and body. I need to understand myself as a woman of the world and as a woman of the Earth, one living creature among many.