No love for the blog, lately. Apologies, my five readers. Life is busy and the blog is the first thing to be tossed on the back burner.

In the ever-rotating cycle of freelance feast and famine, I find myself in the “feast” period for the rest of the year and into January. This is good – I love having new clients and designing and writing new things. I just have a few other life obligations that are making things a little hectic right now.

I got a holiday job at a schmancy kitchen store at the mall to get an excellent discount on lovely things I want for the kitchen that I otherwise couldn’t justify buying. Like the beautiful cobalt blue Le Creuset dutch oven currently sitting on my counter! More will come, and I’m sure that my measly paychecks and then-some will go toward utilizing the discount to its full advantage. I’ve never had a holiday job before, and have never worked retail – it’s actually quite fun, if I’m not feeling distracted by more important work projects and torn in 50 directions in general.

I’ve also found myself working more at the little yoga studio I’ve been involved with since we moved here. I used to just trade a shift a week in exchange for free yoga, but I recently began working Sundays and now will be there even a bit more and doing some work from home, seeing as the “manager” decided she’d stop showing up and then empty the bank account, and the owner needs, well – some people who won’t do that. Sad thing, realizing a person you thought was nice and normal turns out to be a stealing liar. Not to mention the fact that it pretty much goes against the entire foundation of yoga. You’re supposed to strive to live in loving kindness for others. “Lie” and “embezzle” aren’t really a part of loving kindness, last I checked. At any rate – that’s what karma is for, and I’m happy to help during the transition, though it’s a terribly inconvenient time.

So I’m designing a catalog and writing and designing a whole complicated suite of products for a photographer friend of mine who’s launched a very cool photography project exploring the movement and physics of the bicycle. (I’ll post photos so you know what I’m talking about – it’s very cool stuff). We need press releases, brochures, postcards, flyers, price sheets, everything! Gah! I’m also at work on a big writing project on winter hiking and preparation, and soon Jarrad and I will be writing a three-part series on wilderness medicine.

And mom’s coming to visit. And the house is a mess. And I have loads of paperwork to do for taxes. And we need to pick a new insurance plan. And Jarrad’s back to work tomorrow until god-knows-when. And, well, I’m tired. My plans of having lots of free time while mom is here are slowly fading. But it’s a good tired, I suppose. I feel productive and busy and successful, which is the balance positive for feeling tired, stressed and pulled in 40 directions. All is well, and part of the freelance fun is raking in the $ while you can, so slim times don’t affect you so much. To rake I go. More soon.

Woke up at 2:30 a.m. and couldn’t get back to sleep. Not sure why, but this happens occasionally, so I get out of bed and try and make some use of the time, rather than lying there listening to Jarrad breathe. Darkness is always a friendly writing companion.

With computers failing and Jarrad’s medical license being temporarily pulled due to some stupid clerical error at his lovely alma mater, we’ve had better weeks. Far better. All is well now; he’s officially a doctor again, after a 48-hour hiatus. My computer is finally back to normal. And I’ve been reminded yet again of what a great decision it was to leave “regular” employment, take the leap and work for myself.

So, back to a regular rhythm this week, I hope.

There are times, like this past week, dealing with all my computer issues, that I realize how much of my life is orchestrated through the computer and internet and I just want a break or, better, want to take complete leave of my electronic existence. Stop blogging. Cancel my Facebook account. Revert to the phone and in-person contact rather than email, email email email. I think it’s normal to feel this way now and then, given the amount of time I spent in front of the glowing box. This will shift once I start graduate school. I’ll keep the freelance work I enjoy and bow out of the contracts that aren’t serving me anymore, and focus on school once again. A big shift, after six years of doing the opposite.

I’m going to begin working at the yoga studio a bit each week, instead of just doing a trade agreement for free yoga, and I’m excited to spend a little more time in such a serene and positive environment. I’ve made good friends there, for whom I’m thankful. This week has been a good reminder of a lot of things related to friendship, too — a few that are phasing out, or aren’t really two-way streets anymore, which is saddening; and a few that are relationships I value above nearly all else.

Okay – off to work on an essay or two. Cheers to an early Tuesday.

Tuesday afternoon, a peacefully sleeping post-call Jarrad is awoken by a woman resembling his wife. The bitch version of his wife.

“I need your computer!”

Him, sleepily: “…what..?”

“I need your computer! Mine is showing that stupid file folder and question mark!”

I failed to verbalize that I required the use of his fully-functioning laptop to look up some help commands or some sort of remedy, a mysterious combination of command+alt/option+fn+the letter C held down, perhaps, to make the annoying (and foreboding) blinking question mark on my screen disappear and my regular desktop reappear.

Little did I know that it was too late. Far too late. The Great Mac Crash of 2009 had struck, and left the hard drive in my beautiful 24-inch iMac a smoldering piece of blank nothingness. Charred toast. Obliterated. Gone.

Bastard! This and many other random curses flew from me, seemingly without control. There’s a sailor in me, my friends, a drunken, angry and vulgar one with a cursing vocabulary the likes of which you cannot dream, and said sailor only surfaces when confronted with astounding computer issues that simply just aren’t supposed to happen to people like me.

But they do, they do, my new friend Jim at the Apple Store confirmed. Did you back up? he asks, and I say yeah, of course I backed up — the part I left out was that it’s all thanks to the husband; he’s in charge of technology. The $500 Time Capsule is too expensive, I said, ignoring the fact that what is stored on my computer is worth far more than $500, preferring to wing it, hope for the best and slide by on the very shaky “it hasn’t ever happened! And it’s a Mac!” reasoning. But Jarrad prevailed, we got the Time Capsule, and guess who’s sheepishly singing its praises now? That’d be me, me! The woman with the fried hard drive and several thousand dollars worth of freelance projects in various stages of progress stored on the small warm box on the corner of my desk that, until now, I’d regarded as only yet another warm surface on which our felines prefer to slumber.

So I’m without my computer for possibly seven days. Working from home, doing what I do and managing the immense internet addiction I have means that seven days could just as well equal eternity. My kind husband, understanding my responsibilities and addictions, has left me his laptop. I can’t do any design work, since it doesn’t have the software I need. But I can, thankGOD, access email. And let’s not forget Facebook

Okay, okay, enough of the whining about writing. It’s going much better and I’m committed to riding the creative wave as it ebbs and flows throughout the rest of my life, so I’ll cease with the complaining for a while

Let us instead discuss food adventures of late! Or rather, I’ll just share the yummy, successful ones:

First: puff pastry with wilted spring greens, tomatoes and asiago cheese in heavy cream. Ooh, yum! An adaptation of a recipe from “How to Eat Supper” by the ladies of NPR’s Splendid Table. A must-have for any cook, aspiring, skilled or otherwise. It’s beautifully written. I know it looks like just another pizza, but trust me, my friends, it is SO MUCH MORE.

And then there’s beef daube provencal, adapted from a recipe in the front of last month’s Cooking Light – superb with some parmesan drop biscuits. Oh, comfort food. We’ll be seeing a lot of you here in the gray, gray Buckeye State, I think.

And for baking: zucchini bread with lemon and coconut. Very tasty, not too heavy on the sugar, moist due to everyone’s favorite summer squash. I shared some with the neighbors and enjoyed the rest each breakfast (until it was gone, which was just two or three breakfasts later).

And then, following a weekend visit to the pumpkin patch, I came home and made some pumpkin cookies with maple icing to enjoy with some hot cider. Also excellent, also eaten for breakfast, also gone two or three breakfasts later.

This week is likely slim on cooking, since Doctor Comic is in Colorado and I depart on Thursday. It’s his sister’s wedding, and, being the creative and unique individuals they are, they’ve opted for a Halloween costume wedding. I’m going as Julia Child, of course. ZOMBIE Julia Child, that is!

It has been a difficult few weeks.

The weather here in our fair city has been less than stellar, and stacks of gray clouds, steady rain and temps in the 40s don’t really prompt me to achieve great things – or even simple, basic ones like updating the blog. It’s weather perfect for holing up on the couch with some tea and a book, and cooking comfort food, and baking.

Baking and tea or no, this dim weather eventually takes a bit of a toll on me. And of course there’s the greater issue of this being an exceptionally difficult month for Jarrad, on call every other night, meaning I’m alone more than usual (and in general, I am alone a LOT). It’s an up and down kind of deal. Somedays I feel like a rockstar – I get up and run, I go to yoga, I come home and work on a cool freelance project, I cook a good meal, I read things that are worthwhile to me, I get a good night’s rest. Not bad, huh? I’m thankful for those days.

And then there are others – the ones where I sleep late, maybe go to yoga but don’t run because the weather’s shit, spend too much time surfing the web and not enough time working, don’t get out of the house, decide to bake something delicious and therefore fattening, sit up too late reading or writing, getting frustrated when what I’m writing is pure shit on the page, and going to bed, fretting.

Ah, a life of extremes.

Most days are somewhere in between those two scenarios. Most days I get exercise, eat decently, do some work, perhaps do some writing, and read. Notice that “quality time with my husband” or “fun with friends” isn’t really listed as a regular part of my day or week. Because neither of them are, and that’s the way it is. I think that’s what’s wearing on me, and also ultimately what caused a recent meltdown I had about graduate school. I’m a little lonely and a bit confused about the future, feel a little lost, a bit too full of hard questions, so I get a little weird and unmotivated and perhaps weepy or pissed off. Depending on the day. Welcome to the writing life.

I’m supposed to be allowed to begin taking courses as a non-degree student in the spring, and then transfer the courses into the program once I’m accepted (yes, I know, I’m going on the assumption that I will in fact be accepted. Look at me and my high thinking of myself!) But I tire of jumping through higher ed hoops and not getting answers, and I’m uncertain as to whether I can make it happen.

Which isn’t the end of the world; I can wait until the normal start date and still finish the program in a timely manner. All well and good. But…I’d like to get started. I’d like to stop treading water in this area of the pool and just get on with the relay, okay?

But every time I get a step closer to school, I freak. A litany of questions floods my brain and keep me from sleeping or from being any use to myself or anyone else, and cause my poor, loving husband to have to deal with my manner of handling it, which is to first shut myself in my office and hammer out my frustration on the computer, and then to be coaxed out by said loving husband to actually talk about what the problems are, and to feel guilty for burdening him with crap like this when really, who’s the one working the 30-hour shifts? Not me, people. Not me.

So this school stuff, it all boils down to fear, of course. Fear that I suck; that I’m a lousy writer, that I’m about to enter into the most colossal waste of time the writing world has ever seen. That my fellow writers will all be better than me. That I won’t have enough interesting things to say. That I won’t be a success – which is something I’m not even sure how to measure.

Yes, this, my friends, is the joy of a writing life. Sheer, pure joy. Glory! Self-doubt, second-guessing, near constant self-criticism, fear, worry. Waging your existence on something creative, on something that ebbs and flows and often makes little sense and is impossible to understand, on something the success of which you can’t ever really determine, and on something that most days makes you feel like you’re wandering along a dark hallway, stumbling into random rooms, not finding what you need anywhere and never being able to locate a light switch – it’s hard. Okay? It’s really fucking hard. It’s eternally solitary, often confusing, always a stress. I’m forever at work at something intangible, immeasurable, vague. It’s exhausting.

I know that it’s a lot of good things, too, a writing life. Sure, I know. But today, on day number god-knows-what of rainy weather, my yoga glow having worn off and being in no mood for putting forth the effort to assemble any thoughts whatsoever on a page, I’m not really feeling the good. I’m feeling the questions, the worry, and the intense urge to pick up a book by a far more accomplished writer than I’ll ever be, and read it. On the couch.

Six a.m. on a Sunday, with rain offering up the perfect excuse and setting to hunker down with writing and books. Rain is always a reason to head to the couch, and there is nothing that makes more sense to me than a combination of language and tea when it’s gray out. Green tea with coconut and ginger in the morning; mint in the evening. If it rained more often, I’d get so much more writing done. Perhaps a move to the Pacific Northwest is in order. When I’m ready to write a book.

I’m at work on an essay called Fixing David. No, it’s not about a project boyfriend; it’s about my guitar (though I have had a few project boyfriends which might make funny essays, rain puts me in a more contemplative mood). So that’s what the “Daily Writing” energy has been going toward these past days. Yesterday, I took my old 1970s vintage Gibson blue ridge to a luthier I’d ferreted out in Kent, Ohio, just down the road from Akron. His musty, cramped shop, cluttered with guitars, amps, violins and every other manner of musical accoutrement, felt so familiar to me. The news was unfortunate, though – nearly $700 to fix my little lute, the one I’ve drug around with me for more than 12 years now. It needs some serious help to make it playable, and I’m in need of some serious funds to make it happen. I’m hopeful that, of the three editors of local newspapers to whom I sent a snarky cover letter and some clips, one will bite, and give me some work.

I’m even considering temping – mostly for the fact that my need for musical outlets and expression is intense, and I’m impatient. I want a classical guitar, and I’ve found one I love but for which we also lack the money. And I’d like to fix the one I have, too. Altogether, I need about $1,300. An upcoming freelance project could cover it all in one shot – but that money is allocated elsewhere.

While situations like this are disappointing, I still firmly believe I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing here — building a freelance base, pursuing graduate school, writing. In talks Jarrad and I have been having recently, we’re realizing that this move is a first step of many toward living a life less ordinary, and we have some plans. Some big ones.

Now is the time for him to be becoming a doctor (as he puts it right now, he’s just a medical student with a degree). And now is the time for me to pursue my advanced degree as well. It’s the perfect arrangement, the right time – because what we hope will come next isn’t the usual “let’s settle down somewhere, buy a big house and fill it with crap, and get a timeshare in Aruba.”

I’ve been reading a lot about minimalism, or living simply, or living with intention – whatever term you’d like to assign – and feeling very inspired by stories of people who’ve made a conscious effort to create for themselves the lifestyle that is most important to them, outside of what society, family and social norms advise. People who choose to work less and live cheap, people who choose to rank their priorities such that stuff falls at the bottom of the list and experiences rate high. The art of nonconformity, if you will. Check out this guy’s site, for instance. Cool life, huh? Very. Inspiring!

We’re content here in Ohio, and we have to be here for three years. It’s a good amount of time for Jarrad to become the best new doctor he can be, and for me to complete my MFA. But in thinking of What Comes Next, we think about spending two years working – perhaps near/on Indian Reservations in Montana and New Mexico or Arizona – and then having an adventure. A big one. A honeymoon to beat all honeymoons.

A year-long trip around the world.

I found some delicious books at the library and spent the late afternoon and evening browsing them on the couch, with my tea and the kittens (Raj is a cuddling, purring lap beast – here with me now, in fact. Sumi, not so much, unless she feels like it. She’d rather meow around the living room for no good reason). There are so many details to figure out  - but we have plenty of time to plan and save, and we can pull it off. Jarrad’s caught the bug in full force as well, and has discovered numerous cool travel blogs and resources.

We’ve got a purpose here, for the next two and a half years. We’re content. But it’s fabulous to dream of what comes next, when we have the resources to make big dreams happen. This, for me and I think for Jarrad, too, is more important than anything. I’d rather save for a year around the world than a house downpayment. I’d rather save for the experiences and stories and memories than four walls, lawn care and “equity.” I’d much rather have this experience than have children. Who knows how much our goals will change in the coming years, but right now, both of us are pretty dedicated and excited about the thought of taking off with our backpacks in 2015. A long time away, no doubt. This is the first time I’ve ever had even a tentative plan that far out.

I like it.

It’s sad when your husband has a day off and you spend much of it feeling weird, because you’re so unaccustomed to having him around. Like he’s an interruption into the daily life you’ve carved out for yourself, while he’s been living at the hospital.

Ah, residency.

Each month, the Doc is on a new rotation. So each month is very different. Because the first month was orientation and the second he was in the ER, they didn’t suck at all. He actually was home far more than we thought. We felt quite spoiled. But now, oh now – some major sucking is happening. ICU month, my friends, couldn’t be anything other than one big suck-fest. Obviously, since it puts me in such a lame mood that I can’t even conjure a better adjective than “suck-fest.” Jeez.

So the first three weeks of ICU month, he was working days. Except his day started at 3:30 a.m. Obviously, that left zero quality time in the morning. And when he arrived home around 6:30, we ate and then perhaps took a walk around the neighborhood, and then he needed to get to bed. Many a lonely night ensued.

Amid all this bitching, I do understand that he has it much, much harder than I do. I’m not trying to make light of his hellish schedule by whining about how little time we have together. I’m aware that I have a completely flexible schedule and can do whatever I want, so really what’s the big deal, right?

Bullocks. It is a big deal. It’s a big deal because it sucks, and this has been an exceedingly lonely month. Him exhausted and me lonely isn’t a fun combo. And it’s about to get more fun – because he works nights this week! Yay, nights! I’ll go about my regular day while he sleeps upstairs, and then he’ll rise at about 3:30 p.m. and head off to the ICU until, oh, 7 a.m. or so. Superfun!

Yes, I go do stuff. I go to yoga almost every day. I write at coffeeshops, I see the occasional friend, I go to the library. I run or run/walk every day. I cook, I read. All fun stuff. And yeah, I work most days of the week, too. Except sometimes I just want to see my husband, you know? When he’s coherent, not exhausted and hasn’t just had two people die on him in the last 14 hours.

Okay…end rant. I know I have much for which to be thankful, and I am. Daily. I’m not bitter about residency in general, and overall we’re really lucky. It’s just this month that’s been hard. And next month will be too (three cheers for orthopedics) but after that…hopefully…we can have a little normalcy.

The first writing prompt I opened to today, in my Writer’s Block book of prompts, was a spark word – a word that’s supposed to conjure a memory or image, and you simply take it from there.

This morning’s word: cheating.

Only one person comes to mind, and he is a waste of space on the planet and certainly a waste of my writing energy. He was a bastard who had another girlfriend the whole time we dated, who was a pathological liar and who has a black, dead soul. The end.

Okay, moving on! Let’s pick another prompt. Here we go:

“Describe the most meaningful, important gift you’ve ever received. What does it say about your relationship to the giver?”

* * *

Five a.m. on a Sunday. I finish packing in the mist, steady, my constant company these past six months. Always, the rain. She’s silent in camp; we have neighbors, and it’s too early to talk anyway. I said my goodbyes all week long, hosting campfires at our site, playing guitar, trying to memorize the glowing orange faces around me in the circle — strong friends here, and people I may never see again. Now, with damp ashes in the fire ring, a lingering scent of smoky earth in my clothes and guitar case and a wet pack full of the last six months of life here, it’s time to go.

We drive in silence. The town sleeps, its usually hectic boardwalks and souvenir shops empty and at peace. It’s a rare image, one that I love to hang onto still, rather than recalling the chaos and noise of throngs of tourists, invading from the colossal white sailing troughs that come to our port each week. This is Alaska, land of wide open spaces, grand frontiers, grizzlies, the Chilkoot Trail, and cruise ships. A host of beauty met with one grand ruin.

She’s staying longer than I am. It’s the first time we’ll have been apart in six months, and I’ve completely ignored what it will be like to board the ferry and sail away without her. No, we’re not lovers, though that’s what plenty of people probably think, especially with my terrible boy haircut and ugly clothes, and the fact that we’re sharing a tent site, one car. No, we’re just friends. “Just.” We’re friends in the way that two kindred souls are friends; deeper and more real. Honest. I trust her with my secrets and stories, and my music; she trust me with hers. This six months, life-changing for both of us, couldn’t have happened without each other.

She parks her beat-up gray Subaru at the end of the pier. I step out into the mist and silence, see the ferry that will take me to Juneau hidden in early morning fog. I have my ticket, the few possessions I’ve bothered to care enough about to take home stashed in a backpack. I have my guitar. Time to go.

“I’m going to cry,” she says, and I say “me too,” but we only cry a bit, and after one strong hug, she places a small piece of paper in my hand. We smile and say we’ll talk soon, and I turn and walk to the boat. From the deck I watch her drive away and I sink completely into the feeling of aloneness. Not sad; just empty, and by myself.

The piece of paper is a poem. It’s a command, really – or a recommendation for what should happen next. “Bobbi be bold” it begins, and goes on to tell me that from here on out, from this point and time in Alaska, I should grow old with the land, the memories of it, inside me. I should maintain this feeling of freedom, should do what I want, as I wish, and, rather than being led by life, I should make it happen.

I did, and I do.

It was the best gift.

I woke up this morning to autumn. Oh, I know it technically arrived a week or two ago — but this morning it felt like it. Stepping outside to roll the trash to the curb (a chore we neglected last night) enveloped me in crisp air, in the feeling of a season’s turn and the encounter of yet another new Ohio experience. Autumn has always been my favorite, and I’m ready for jeans again, for brisk mornings that require my running tights and gloves, for visible breath and freshness and piles of leaves becoming brittle. I wonder what my favorite running trail will look like, what shape the world here takes as it’s going to sleep. Everything is new this year, each thing we encounter about our new home having no accompanying assumptions or opinions.

So today’s daily writing will be about newness, and how we continue to discover a life here so very different from our time in the nation’s capital. Here’s something new and different: yesterday, sitting at a coffeeshop called Angel Falls and working diligently on a large freelance project, someone came and sat next to me. I was at a large table, and he asked if he could share it. He was in his 50s, very kind, and certainly not hitting on me. We kept to our projects for more than an hour, and then he struck up a friendly chat about hiking and geography, where we’d both lived, adopting a biking lifestyle and how our town is really quiet nice and pretty, contrary to all the assumptions people make. And I thought – never in D.C. After a summer spent here, I’m still happily struck when people are friendly rather than snobbish, welcoming rather than standoffish.

Something else new: working solo. That small interaction, a 20-minute friendly chat and an exchange of emails (he has questions about backpacking and I said I’d happily help) was a very welcome part of my day. Switching from an office full of co-workers (and distractions) has been a significant change, and not an unwelcome one. This feeling of working for myself is still very new, and I still have much learning to do. Now, I have cats and interview notes scattered about my desk (cats claim the sun patches in the morning, of course – it’s quite cute) rather than press releases and editing projects. I have no office email, politics or drama to deal with. I’m generally in pajamas for the first half of my day, and I don’t need to report to my home office at any certain time. And when I get there, I can do whatever I want, too. Having that much freedom really isn’t simple — it requires a hefty load of self-motivation and knowing how to prioritize your day (if you want to actually earn money and feel productive). I’m pretty loose, but not totally loose – I need a plan, priorities for each chunk of time, so that I feel I’ve accomplished something each day. Right now, I’m juggling between various freelance projects, my own writing and plans for graduate school (I think), lots of reading I need to get done in preparation for grad school, studying for a lame test (that part hasn’t consistently fit into my schedule for weeks) and keeping our life here in order, doing all sorts of lovely housewifely things. Strangely, it’s hard working from home when I know I have chores, many chores, awaiting. I shut my office door and try to ignore them. In a previous life, I couldn’t settle down in peace at home until the kitchen was spotless, all other rooms were in order and the laundry was, at the very least, piled in neat piles in the basement. Not so, here. Can’t pull that off every day, and that’s fine.

More new: yoga. Connecting with a small, local studio and working out a trade so that I can take free yoga classes has been a huge gift and something I was surprised to find incredibly life-changing. Yoga’s connection to mind, body and spirit really amazes me, and I find I’m going about daily life in small, new ways and even have new philosophies on life. Striving to live life without ego, living simply and approaching the world with loving kindness in your heart really does wonders mentally, physically and spiritually. Yoga’s like this amazing combination of an incredibly butt-kicking workout, meditation and church (cool church, not boring church). I try to do some every day, because now that I’ve started, I really don’t want to ever revert to a life without it.

Other new: the Doc’s residency is in full swing, and right now, we’re more than halfway through ICU month. In comparison, he really did have it easy the first two months – orientation, emergency room. The ICU schedule has the alarm going off at 3:30 a.m., and he usually returns home around 6 p.m. Sometimes much later. Next month brings more fun, with Q2 call (that means he’ll be hanging out the hospital every other night, rather than going to bed at home). So, we’re learning the new feeling of residency with a schedule more akin to horror stories, but still not so bad. This level of solitude also is new for me; but I’m doing okay, and it’s not like I don’t have plenty of new goals and priorities to keep me busy. (Whether I feel like being busy all the time, or have the energy to be, is a different question).

The sun’s up and it’s about time for a run. Cheers to Friday – which, I’ve discovered, means absolutely nothing when you work from home, for yourself. I’ve got stuff to do. Good thing I love my job.

Today’s daily writing is going to be on thoughts regarding minimalism, which I didn’t really know was a “thing” until I discovered zenhabits.net. It’s a very interesting, informative and inspiring website written by a gentleman in Guam who has overhauled his life in the past four years (quit smoking, took up running, wrote books, pared down his life in a variety of ways, paid off debt, became a vegan, lost weight, completed marathons and triathlons, committed to bike commuting – you get the idea). The premise: stuff, the pursuit of stuff and misconceptions about how much stuff we need distract us from living a full life. Moving toward simpler living in all facets of life frees us to do, be and become what’s most important to us.

This isn’t necessarily new news, but the introduction of yoga into my daily life, with the principles of living without ego and with loving kindness in one’s heart, has led me to examine how I live, notice what’s good and what I’d like to change, and to be drawn to and identify with concepts like minimalism. So it’s part of an overall new thought process for me. It makes perfect sense to me on so many levels — personal, social, environmental, spiritual. Also, as the husband and I discuss future plans following our stint in the Buckeye State, we’re realizing that what we might want is different from what most people do. We talk about bouncing around the world a bit, him doing traveling doctor work, me writing. We consider stints in remote Montana, Alaska, the desert Southwest that we both love intensely. We think of a year in Australia. We think of renting not owning, saving not spending, weeding through what we have and keeping only what matters. Simplifying life.

One reason this doesn’t seem like a daunting jump is that we already live fairly simply compared to those around us. There is still much room for change.

Reading ZenHabits has taught me that living simply means far more than just buying less useless crap. Read the “About” section for a list of full details, but the basis areas include:

• Whittling down your stuff, decluttering and avoiding the purchase of unnecessary stuff
• Simplifying your work life, to-do lists, daily tasks, etc., by dropping a commitment or two, revising your budget, reviewing your goals, and setting limits on time-sucks like email and blog reading (oh, that’s gonna be hard for me).
• Eating healthfully, avoiding unhealthy restaurant food
• Being frugal (which seems easy when the goal is to avoid buying useless crap!)
• Waking early to allow for personal time to work on goals (I think this is a main point for the author because he has six children and a wife – quiet time’s a scarce commodity, probably)
• Making a conscious effort to not rush through your day
• Focusing on real goals and life purpose
• Streamlining your daily routines

Not all things will appeal to or be possible for every person; but a lot of it makes sense to me.

So, looking about the house this Sunday morning, taking stock of my own little existence, I find the following:

What’s simple, or getting there:

• We rent one small house. While we did need to purchase some furniture, as we owned nothing except a bed, it’s pretty basic. We love our home, and it’s a comfortable, welcoming spot; but it is certainly not filled with clutter or crap. Just lots and lots of books. No “den” or “family room”; just a living room, a kitchen, one bathroom and three bedrooms – an office for me, one for Jarrad, and a place where we sleep.
• No television. This means no time-sucking distractions; this means no ugly television noise at any point (I hate television noise) and no cable bill. I haven’t owned a TV in years. We never will. I love it.
• My not-cluttered office: one large desk, one large computer (oh, how I love you, iMac). A filing cabinet and a place to store office supplies, and one small bookshelf. Nice light, a guitar in the corner. A good place from which to work.
• Our budget. Okay, I’m anal, but it’s worth it. We have a spreadsheet, automated deposits and deductions, online banking, everything as simple as possible.
• My schedule. I love working for myself – though at times I feel like I have 1,000 things to do between freelancing, my personal writing, errands, cooking, cleaning, etc., I’m learning to juggle, and have a peaceful day each day. Yoga helps with this, mucho.

What’s not-so-simple

• Owning a house in Colorado, dealing with property management companies, money issues, tax issues, etc. I’m grateful that thus far, I’ve had one good renter who always pays on time; but I still pay for a house that I no longer get to enjoy, and I’d rather not do that.
• Student loans. The husband’s medical school loans are somewhat nightmarish to decipher and make decisions about. We’re working on it.
• Tight finances. We simply don’t have a lot; and I’m not talking “money to go buy stuff with” funds, I’m talking for things like plane tickets to see family, etc. Luxuries still, you could argue. But it’d be nice to have on hand.
• Two cars. Our city isn’t bike-friendly, and with husband working very odd hours, sometimes it just didn’t work to share a car. We have one new car, which was necessary at the time, but is what I consider expensive (though in new-car terms, it’s the most affordable, quality car on the planet – a Honda Fit),

So – just a few examples. That’s enough deep thoughts about life and living for today; I’ll leave you with a cool link to ZenHabit’s simple pleasures list – it’s a good one.