The opposite of a nomad minimalist, my Mother filled the big four bedroom home vacated by her grown kids with all kinds of STUFF. Every room was a depository of old stuff, new stuff, stuff she bought and never looked at again. It was a family joke at Christmas that there was always a bag of stuff somewhere that she forgot to wrap!
And the lifetime of stuff she’d determinedly held on to lost any meaning as she neared the end of her life. As she succumbed to Alzheimer’s disease, the only thing that mattered was love. We weren’t sure she recognized us, but her face still lit up with love when she saw her children.
She was only 76 when she passed, and it woke me up. I’d worked two jobs, raised my daughters, and was relatively stable, but I could see that my life was lacking authentic joy. I knew things had to change, and the first thing to go was a toxic marriage.
Time To Downsize!
After that I started paring down, influenced in no small way by being forced to deal with the mountains of my Mother’s stuff after she died. Little did I know I was preparing for the nomad journey my soul knew was coming!
I just knew back then that I didn’t want my stuff to own me.
As nomads, purging our belongings is a transcendent opportunity to ask ourselves, “Without material possessions, what defines me, and who do I want to be in this world?”
Early in my nomad days, my beautiful cedar post bed and a few things went into storage. Then, after less than a year on the road, I got rid of all of it, my bed and all the decor I’d carefully selected for my cute little apartment.
It felt great, and it felt sad.
I wrote in my journal that I felt Freedom. Sadness. Letting go. Being untethered. Uncertain.
My bed was beautifully rustic, with a lush memory foam mattress. It was the first time I’d owned anything so extravagant, and it cradled me in beauty, nature, and comfort.
Letting go of that bed was an epic milestone.
It reminded me of nature, but now living as a nomad I was immersed in the healing energy of nature every day, my sacred WHY that had pulled me to this life and that now filled me with joy!
There were tears as I finally let go of the last little bits of that life chapter, but they were tears of release.
And the letting go didn’t end! My first van purge happened after only 4 days on the road, and even after that, the van was still so heavy that my 8 cylinder engine strained to get up the mountains of the Adirondacks!
Becoming a nomad requires us to mindfully evaluate what we really need to live.
These thoughtful questions can be helpful:
(I didn’t come up with these questions. If you recognize this please let me know the source!)
Do I Love It?
Do I Need It?
Does It Raise My Energy?
Does It Get Me Closer To A Life I Feel Excited About?
Material things are symbols of what we yearn for, not the real things we crave, like joy and freedom.
My Simple System To Keep Things Minimal
- If I haven’t used an item in a year, I carefully consider whether it’s worth the space, and don’t keep items because “I might need it” someday. If I end up needing something, I trust that I can always buy, borrow or barter what I need, especially when I’m surrounded by my nomad community.
- If I add something to the van, I have to get rid of something. One In, One Out.
- I focus on functionality, instead of quantity. I don’t have cupboard full of coffee mugs, but I’ve learned that one sauce pan and one frying pan is sufficient. I try to avoid duplicates, like multiple pairs of jeans, and most of my clothes fit in a bin under my bed. I do have a serious Hoodie addiction, but even that follows the One In, One Out rule.
It may look like what we give up living as a nomad minimalist is a lot … but what we gain on the road is priceless.
With the freedom to travel I’ve trekked across the continent and dipped my toes in both oceans, experienced the lush forests of the Adirondacks, basked in the warmth of the vast deserts of the Southwest, and fell in love with places I’d only dreamt of.
My consciousness stretches as I gaze into nature’s landscapes, tune into the long cycles of the Earth, commune with life on the planet, and gaze on wondrous black skies swept with stars.
If I get tired of the same scenery or have crappy neighbors, I’m not stuck, I just move on. I’m not shackled by rent, utility bills, or the energy it takes to maintain a home.
And the community of fellow nomads who continually inspire, challenge and delight me, surround me with encouragement and support as I navigate this life.
This is where I THRIVE, where I’m most authentic, most myself.
This is home.
Read More:
There’s also a comprehensive chapter on the nomad purge, with tips to accomplish it, in my book, Wild Women On The Road.
