Saying yes

The Rug: Our Multi-Purpose Room Without Walls My early morning writing routine happens in the wide open, wall free, but rug defined space right outside the rig. The outdoor rug, made of colorful recycled plastic fibers, is a room of our house on wheels, and what’s on it (and what happens on it) tells a story of our life on the road.  This rug looks “wrong sized” when it’s not in front of the rig. We almost returned it because when we first rolled it out, it was in our front lawn at home, and it looked like a small country had invaded our space. Surely, it was much too big for us. Thankfully, we held out, and kept it long enough to try it in front of our rig, and we saw that it fit perfectly. There are dumbells on the rug, as this is where Tucker does his daily 10 p.m. workouts. There’s a kettlebell, as it’s my gym space for my morning kettlebell routine. It’s the collection space for Jesse’s prized bottle caps that haven’t been sorted or traded and for his ever expanding stick coll...

Dusty sandlike dirt has been our companion for two months now, dust inside the rig, dust outside the rig, dust covering the car and the rig, dust and sand blowing when the wind picks up. When we rolled up the rug as we prepared to leave Los Cerritos, pounds of dust fell out and pounds remained in the rug itself, deeply embedded. When we unrolled our rug, as we settled into Los Barriles, dust puffed into the air.  Yesterday, we went to the Santa Rita Hotsprings, about forty five minutes from where we are staying on the Sea of Cortez in Los Barriles. We took a long, adventurous route to get to the hot springs. Thankfully, we were in Matt and Emma’s truck and were able to make it.  We drove through loose sand for part of the ride, and my adrenaline spiked as we could all feel the loose sand grasping and pulling at the tires, trying to claim us with its insidious grip. Matt navigated well up a twisty steep road with, sometimes pausing for goats and cows to make their way ahead of ...

Book cabinet over our head Cooking thanksgiving meal in our one person kitchen  Our four family traveling tribe is in Los Cerritos, a small, but rapidly growing, community about halfway between La Paz and  Cabo. Here, there's a midsize sandy parking lot on the beach for tents and RVs. We've arranged our rigs into a box shape, surrounding a wide open center. We've effectively created a community square, a plaza, a place for shared meals, evening fires, and games. The plaza is also a kid magnet, and as our kids gather to play Janga, or stick fight, or do bead craft, other children poke their head into the square and often join the fun. It can be lonely being a child on the road, and what we're offering - a friendly, warm community - is a compelling siren call.   The rest of today's post will have a different flavor than previous posts, which have frequently been about what we're experiencing, either internally, related to emotional or spiritual work, or externally...

More than anything, I have always craved community. Amidst a community,  I feel most myself. It’s where I find rhythms to sink into. Our kids flourish in community’s light.  We do better as a family. I never thought we’d find a deep or lasting community on the road, but by fate or accident or luck we have. In mid-January we met a group of traveling families in San Felipe, Mexico who have become our tribe.  We move together from one breathtakingly beautiful place to the next.   The kids are magic together.  There are ‘the littles’ ages 5-9 and ‘the teens.’ They call each other ‘siblings’ and ‘cousins’.  Jesse, who once was an introverted loner, now pops out of bed, does his chores and refuses breakfast to find his friends as quickly as possible.  The other day, we took him into town to get ice cream but for the first time in his life he wasn’t interested, he just wanted to get back to playing.   The littles have a robust exchange going: S...

Climbing in Tabor Canyon (near Loreto) Vultures on a fence (in Loreto) As the New Year has unfolded, you’ve probably noticed that we’ve been posting a lot more on the blog than we did in October, November, and December. The simple explanation is that we aren’t struggling like we were in the final months of 2021 and have more time and emotional space to write. We were struggling so much at the end of 2021 that we almost pulled the plug on our “Living on the Road'' experiment. Though I journaled, it felt too vulnerable to blog about what we were experiencing.  During those months, it felt like everything was unraveling. Looking back, I can see that perhaps we had unrealistic expectations of ourselves, our children, and what living on the road truly entailed. There was a mismatch between our expectations and the reality we were experiencing. Yes, there were moments of joy and delight, but we were suffering. Many of the days felt long, arduous, and unending. Though the Olympic Peni...

A view of Conception Bay For the past week, we’ve been travelling down the Baja Peninsula with a few other families that we met in San Felipe. Two days ago, we arrived at Bahia Concepion (Conception Bay) about halfway down the peninsula, and collectively all let out a big exhalation. The highways in Baja are narrow, with nearly non-existent shoulders, and at times it seems as if there is less than a handspan between you and the oncoming eighteen wheeler that is passing. Coming into Mulege and Conception Bay required driving down the “Infernal Grade” or the “Grade from Hell.” It was a harrowing drive - steep, tight curves, sweaty palms kind of stuff. We made it and we plan to stay here for five or six days (or weeks, or months, as we’ve been joking!) I’m relieved. We’ve been moving at a pretty fast pace and my body is ready to settle for a bit.  As I’ve gotten to know our fellow families better, as we’ve taken walks, sat around campfires, and eaten meals together, they’ve been shari...