Victoria posted all of our earthly possessions on Facebook last night in one long list. Within an hour she had about 15 responses in email and another 5 or so on Facebook. The moment I heard that news, our adventure got real real. Its not the jettisoning of the stuff, that’s just a practicality, and its not the immediacy of it (that’s a necessity). What struck me is just how crazy, risky, and exciting this all is.
In a few days all of the possessions that we have collected over the years—the ones that make shoreside life more comfortable, like music, movies, games, etc—will begin to flood out of our lives. Our bet is that our lightweight 3.0 version will be be more rewarding than the sum of those possessions, but what if…
What if the boat falls off the truck on the way home? We would have no stuff and no boat. I can’t dwell on this. Life is full of risk, and this life we are choosing is more full of risk than many. I have a hunch that its just that risk that will help to expose the beautiful, urgent, and sacred in our lives.
What if the kids hate it? Well I guess that’s always been a concern. All evidence points to the contrary, and honestly, they dislike a lot about their shore-bound life as well. I suspect we’ll all have some adjusting to do, but that’s the nature of life—change happens, then we adapt. Our challenge will be to provide the kids the tools they need to manage that change gracefully.
That’s enough of that. Anyone who attempts to live a life even remotely interesting must at some point face their fears and choose to forge over them. This is our moment. It will not be our last (or our first), but I suspect practice will make our next encounter with progress a little less frightening.
Victoria said to me last night “I feel like I’m standing at the edge of the cliff… you are the cliff jumper.” “This time”, I replied “You might need to jump first.”